#but then I thought nah lemme share my elaborated thoughts

[fluffypotatey]

Shadowpeach's reaction to believing the other is dating again

ANON I AM SO SORRY T^T i meant to reply to this the moment I read it then got distracted and now it’s almost 1am (edit: it is now 1:30 lmao)

anyway,

you have come to ask me, a girlie who is a sucker for unhealthy shadowpeach and long time lover of the jealousy & possessive tropes, about shadowpeach’s hypothetical reactions of the two monkeys believing the other is back in the dating scene?

well, obviously, they would be completely fine. absolutely no negative reactions or breakdowns or obsessive thoughts hindering their ability to function and be mentally healthy. of course.

jk i lied: THEY WOULD BE SO HORRIBLE LMAO

however, i feel like swk would be more subtle about it. like maybe he hears something out of context said by MK or Mei or Tang or Red Son or Sandy (who might have also jumped to the same conclusion) and is like “oh……” and then is oddly quiet for maybe a month, freaking out MK

also, SWK would have his own internal battle of wanting to see Macky to confirm but also not wanting to see Macackle because the confirmation would break him. but he would make so many excuses to see Macaroon by visiting Pigsy’s noodle shop then chicken out when the time does come (the funny part of me says that Pigsy is the only one aware of SWK’s true intentions and is very annoyed about it)

the anger doesn’t really come until SWK feels fed up with Macaroni’s “mixed signals,” meaning Macky’s very bad attempts at being civil/flirting. because “if Macky thinks he can just use my feelings while being in a relationship he can think again!” (despite Macky never being in a relationship but Wukong never confirmed this so is mad for the sake of this hypothetical SO and himself while struggling with his own very messy feelings. because he likes it when Mac has his attention on him, he likes it when Mac tries to woo him the same way he had tried when they were younger and ignorant, he likes it when Mac cannot help but look at Wukong, he likes it when he makes Mac forget all about that stupid significant other because Wukong and Mac used to be something and could still be that something if Mac just gave Wukong a chance or if they had never ended their old relationship like the way they did. if only, if only, if only, if only, if only—

with Macky, ahahahaaaaaaa hoo boy.

not subtle. very unsubtle. like, yes, even Wukong can see and notice Macky’s very unsubtle and unstable self but unlike everybody else who is aware of the reason, Wukong would just be confused on why Macky is always weirdly snappy and grabby and always feel the need to mention Wukong’s love life????

anyway, Macky would not react well. 1) because it feeds into his angry theory that Wukong found their relationship to be superficial and temporary 2) he has been revived for, uh, *checks watch* not very long, so imagine going through a severe break up and dying them being resurrected and trying to enact revenge on your ex (of whom the feelings are still too raw) but you’ve been out of time for so long that you cannot process shit 3) it is my belief that Macky had nobody else as close to him as Wukong was

so, Macky hearing through the very botched grapevine that Wukong is back in the dating scene? man’s is not handling it well. house/apartment/whatever establishment he was staying in is trashed. he replans his revenge against Wukong. he stalks Wukong obsessively bc he has to see that bastard in the act because maybe then he’ll be free. he would sabotage any and all attempts of demons, humans, whoever that whispers about pursuing Wukong because….reasons

(obviously the reasons are not the fact that Wukong moving on terrifies him, the fact that he can be so easily replaced hurts, the fact that he cannot let go despite everything, the fact that Wukong still smiles the same, that Wukong still laughs the same but it’s so much lighter, that he understood what it was like to be loved and cared about by Wukong. to have all of his attention on Macky, to hold him so gently even though these same hands could break him (and have), to be treasured and desired by someone so powerful. how could Mackarell give up something so precious? he is still selfish and has been deprived for f that love for too long. why on earth would he ever wish for someone else to have a piece of what he once had?)

so yeah i’d say they would be coping sO well :)

[mrsalwayswrite]

These Hands Were Made For You (Bill Guarnere x Reader)

Based on this post by @problematicfavesareproblematic​ because its amazing!

This is my first time writing Wild Bill. Lemme know what y’all think!

Warnings: swearing, sexual tension, palming (is that a warning?)

Words:2600

Tag List: @happyveday​ @sydney-m​ @saritanotserena​

  As soon as you stepped into the barn-converted-to-mess-hall in Albourne, you knew what was coming. 

 "There she is, fuckin' goddess of war herself! Come to see how the toughest, most handsome sonofabitch in the 506 is doin' this morning?" 

 You just chuckled and shook your head at his exaggerated smug look. "Yeah, Bill. Something like that."

 Guarnere winked at you and you could not figure out how it was possible for such a simple action to be so dirty. The way he tilted his head just slightly, the corner of his mouth lifted in a half smirk followed by a quick wink...you could feel heat pooling in your belly and your breath catch. 

 The cocky grin on his face grew as he saw the hint of pink on your cheeks. He knew what that wink did to you and he LOVED using it against you. 

 Bastard. 

 "Something you need, Y/L/N?" Martin asked from the table closest to the door.  

 "Yeah, any of you seen Lip?"

 Luz answered from the table, cigarette dangling from between his lips. "Think he went back to the house to grab something. Why?"

 You waved Luz off as you could see him start to stand, stepping further into the barn. "Just need to ask him something. Winters is in a meeting otherwise I'd ask him."

 "Why don't you take a seat, he should be back soon."

 "Perfect spot saved right here for the Valkyrie of Easy!" Bill announced, patting the open spot on the bench next to him. 

 You rolled your eyes but relented, moving past the other table to drop next to Guarnere. On his other side sat Heffron, still looking a bit wide-eyed and nervous that he somehow won the coveted spot with the Toccoa men. Toye sat across, giving you a brief nod when you sat down. Perconte, Christianson, Skinny, and Grant also took up residence around the table. Perco seemed to have been in the middle of telling some overly, exaggerated story. 

 Most of Easy relaxed in the barn. The Toccoa men were grateful for the break from the front-line and hot food instead of K rations. All the replacements were eager for the next jump, ready to soil their ODs, not truly understanding that war would only take from them, never give. The division between Toccoa men and replacements was painfully obvious. 

 Heffron leaned around Guarnere to meet your eyes. "Hey, sorry again about the fellas yesterday. They've been like that since training."

 "Not your fault, Babe." You shrugged, running a hand through your hair. 

 "What's he talkin' about?" Guarnere narrowed his eyes at you. Even Toye across the table was staring at you in concern. 

 "Nothing, Bill. It's fine."

 "If you're sayin' its fine then it ain't fuckin' fine." He growled. When he realized you were not going to elaborate, he turned on Babe. "What the fuck happened?"

 The redheaded replacement looked like he would rather be anywhere else in the world in that moment than being interrogated by Wild Bill. "Some of the men were...ah, tryin' to...um… proposition her." He finished with a wince. 

 A long beat of silence.

 Then Guarnere exploded. 

 He pounded the table with a tight fist, the table shaking at the impact.  A snarl on his lips, he started to rise from his seat, eyeing the tables further away full of replacements. "Who the fuck was it? Someone from our platoon? Imma fuckin' kill 'em. Who was it?"

 "No," you cut in, grabbing his arm and restraining him, hoping to stop him before he worked himself up into a frenzy, "some replacements from third."

 He growled but let you pull him back down. "Goddamn replacements. They touch you?"

 "No, Bill. I handled it."

 Toye spoke up, eyeing his friend carefully as if to see if he was going to have to prevent a replacement's murder or help hide the body. "What you do?"

 You smirked, squeezing Guarnere's arm for good measure then pulled your hand back into your lap. "Told them if they tried to pull that shit again, I'd rip their cocks off and mail them to their mothers."

 All the men at the table either winced or shifted uncomfortably at the mental image. 

 "Hey, don't you be touchin' no one's cocks." Bill said, fury still on his face but also amusement. 

 You raised an eyebrow, "what would you rather I have done? Swung at them? Give Sink a reason to send me packing?"

 "Nah, you swing at 'em, they might fall in love." He winked at you again, telling you he knew exactly what he was talking about. Underneath the table, hidden from view, his knuckles skimmed the outside of your thigh. You attempted to hide the shiver that caused but knew you failed when Guarnere chuckled quietly.

 "Why would that matter?" Babe asked innocently. 

 "Oh, here we go." Toye sighed. 

 "Shut up Joe, the kid asked alright." Guarnere started his story, pleased to have a new, rapt audience. "So here we are, back in Toccoa, right? Most of us have already arrived and started trainin' with goddamn Sobel. Then one day this beautiful broad shows up and we're told she's joinin' the paratroopers. None of us believe it. Why would a broad be joinin'? Don't make no fuckin' sense. So the next day we're supposed to be startin' to learn self-defense and guess who I get paired up with? Huh? Lovely Y/L/N over here. Right, so I'm fuckin' pissed cause I don't wanna be fightin' no broad but Sobel is watchin' like a hawk. I tell her I'll pretend to swing at her and she should just fall down. Play fightin', ya know? Like when youse a kid. I take a swing at her, thinkin' she knew the plan. She easily dodges my swing and before I can right myself, she lands a punch on me. Knocked me flat on my ass and seein' stars. I look up to see this goddess standin' over me, bloody knuckles and all, and she says 'you better get up and fight me like a man before I knock you on your ass again'."

 "So, what you do?" Heffron asked, surprise clearly written all over his face. 

 Guarnere tapped the table with his finger. "What did I do? Well, I got up and told her that when this war is over, I'm gonna fuckin' marry her, that's what I was gonna do."

 Those who had heard the story before chuckled while Heffron sat there, head tilted and eyes bouncing between you and Guarnere like he was waiting for the punchline still. 

 "Why? No offense, Y/L/N." 

 Guarnere threw his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. "Cause she hits harder than any fella I've ever known, includin' me brother Henry. Boxin' champion that one was. Now if that ain't a reason to marry someone, I don't know what is."

 "And she puts up with your bullshit." Toye deadpanned. 

 You rolled your eyes, sliding out from underneath Guarnere's arm. "That's just words unless there's a ring and I don't plan on marrying for a while yet. Still gotta win a war first." You stood up, smoothing down your ODs. "'Sides, maybe by then I'll find someone who doesn't annoy me so much."

 "Nah, you'd miss my handsome face too much."

 "You keep telling yourself that, Bill."

 "One day you'll come around." He winked, making your insides warm. You would never understand how that was possible. The Philadelphian pointed a finger at you. "You lemme know if any of those replacements bother you again. Can't have those bastards propositionin' my future wife."

 "See you later, boys." You said, not even bothering to answer him. You headed towards the door, intent on finding Lipton; but also to get away from the man who gave you such feels without even saying a word. Then when he did speak, complimenting and claiming you in front of the others…. it was becoming harder and harder to keep your hands and your lips to yourself. 

 ***** 

 You leaned against the doorframe, admiring the man who was too caught up in writing a letter home to have noticed you yet. He twirled the pencil between his fingers as he thought about his words. The chair creaked under him as he shifted, leaning forward against the wooden desk to continue writing. The small bedroom only consisted of the desk, chair and bed. Guarnere's duffle bag was thrown in a corner with things haphazardly pulled out. The NCOs had been billeted in a house together, everyone able to have their own rooms unlike the enlisted men who were forced to share a converted barn.

 When you had first met him, and your first real encounter resulted in you punching him, you had thought he was the most unhelpful, condescending, little shit; and you had no problems telling him that for weeks after. When he had bounced back to his feet and proposed...you had laughed so uncontrollably, it had taken a sharp bark from Lipton to get you to focus again. 

 Over the following weeks, the bastard would openly flirt with you and practically pummel anyone else who tried to. Sometime around Fort Benning, your own feelings toward him started to change. No longer was he a man you loathed. You found yourself happy he was in your platoon, that he hovered around you keeping assholes from other companies away, that you enjoyed his flirting and when you two were alone... you reciprocated. 

 Actually, the first time you flirted back, he almost choked on his tongue he was so surprised. After that, things shifted between you two. 

 He continued openly flirting but understood you could not since you were under far more scrutiny and Sobel was looking for ANY reason to get rid of you. 

 For two years Guarnere had been in your life...and you hoped for the rest of it too. 

 "Enjoyin' the view, sweetheart?"

 You smiled at him as he leaned back in the chair, legs still under the desk. "Should I be?"

 He scoffed. "You know you like what you see...I'll tell you though," his eyes raked over you, "you're a fuckin' goddess with a body to drive a man crazy."

 You laughed, covering your mouth with your hand to minimize the sound, as he winked at you before turning back to his letter. 

 "The other NCOs said you were going out tonight for drinks."

 "Yeah, yeah. Told 'em if I didn't finish this letter for my ma, she'd jump on a boat and come find me. Got three letters from her already. Last one she threatened to come find me. So, I told the fellas I'd meet them there."

 The muffled sounds of the other NCOs drifted up the stairs; they were gathered in the common room getting ready to head out. With that in mind, you moved silently across the room to where he sat at the chair. Coming up behind him, you dragged your hands over his broad shoulders then down his firm chest, stilled his motions. 

 "Y/N…"

 You loved touching him, could not get enough of it when you were able to. What you also loved doing was paying him back for teasing you. 

 One of your hands continued to travel downward until you palmed his cock. He froze, pencil hovering just about his letter. Without a word, you slowly, torturously, stroked him over his trousers. 

 "Fuck, sweetheart." He groaned, tipping his head back slightly. 

 "You said earlier I wasn't supposed to be touching anyone's cocks...does that include yours?"

 Turning his head, he looked at you out of the corner of his eye but before he could speak, you took the tip of his earlobe between your teeth. 

 "Hands on the desk, Sergeant." You growled in his ear. 

 Immediately, his hands slammed on the wooden desk, palms down. The pencil fell to the floor. Letter now forgotten on the desk. 

 "Mmm, yes, sir… you keep them there." You continued slowly stroking his cock over his trousers. "You have no idea how bad I wanted to kiss you earlier when we were at the mess hall." You licked up the curve of his ear, feeling him shudder under your touch. Your hand gave him a gentle squeeze as you continued whispering in his ear. "Think I should punish you for teasing me earlier? That wink you gave me...all the dirty images it put in my head. Want me to tell you about them?"

 "Fuck, sweetheart, yes."

 "I thought about you bending me over one of those tables. Notice how they are at the perfect height? How good you would feel inside me. How deep you would be."

 One of his hands started to move off the table, drifting towards where your hand played with him. 

 You nipped his earlobe sharply, making him hiss. "Hands up, Sergeant, or no reward later."

 "You're gonna kill me, darlin'." His hand slammed back on the desk. 

 You licked a line up his neck before pressing your lips against his ear again. The pace of your hand increased, his chest rising and falling to match. "Remember that time in Mackall where we snuck into the parachute packing building and fucked on the silks. You couldn't wait to get inside of me and almost tore my new ODs. So I made you wait and watch as I started touching myself. After someone came in and we almost got caught."

 His hips were now rutting against your hand, the chair shaking with his movements.  His hands were in white-knuckled fists on the desks, trembling with his desire to get them on you. 

 Unable to help yourself, you grabbed his face with your free hand, turning it to press a bruising, messy kiss to his lips. He greedily took ownership of your mouth and deepened the kiss. He plundered your mouth with his tongue, reminding you how his mouth and skillful tongue alone could drive you wild. 

 Finally you broke away, pressing your forehead against his temple as you attempted to refill your lungs with the oxygen he had stolen. "God, I wish I could kiss you out there. Let everyone know I am yours. Maybe share quarters with you instead of sneaking around like teenagers. Fuck whenever we want."

 "I'd be the luckiest, fuckin' bastard in all of Easy. You're mine. My goddess."

 "There is one thing I need right now. I need the toughest, most handsome sonofabitch above me. I need my man inside me." You squeezed your hand, making him tip his head back and loudly groan. "Now the other NCOs are just downstairs. Think you can keep quiet?"

 He pressed a hard and fast kiss to your lips. "Oh darlin', it ain't me whose gonna have to keep from screamin'."

 "Mmm, think you can help me out?"

 "I'd do anythin' for ya…." He turned in his seat, hands now stroking your waist with a completely wicked and sinful smirk on his face. "Go lock the door."

 You stepped back, admiring the disheveled look on Guarnere, how his eyes blazed with passion and desire. For you. Without tearing your gaze from his, you shut the door and locked it behind you. 

 "Jesus Christ, you're a dream."

 "Only for you. Come on, Sergeant, show me how good you are with your...arsenal."

 Before you could move, he leapt out of his chair, making it clatter on the floor as it tipped over in his enthusiasm. He picked you up easily and tossed you on the bed. You laughed only to be immediately silenced by his mouth slamming against yours, a moan drawn from you as his talented fingers rid you of your clothing with an almost inhuman speed. 

 *****

 Later that night Guarnere was quite late for getting to the pub but he did not mind one bit. Especially since his bed now smelled like you…. And he had been able to remind you how much he loved you. 

 Quite vigorously. 

[kehideni]

Another one of them GW2 fanfictions Caithe x Commander

This is no-lore fun stuff for me to practice romantic scenes and whatnot because my ace ass gets hives just from thinking about writing romantic stories and i really need to start building immunity to it because as much as i like to write sometimes, people for some reason only seem to care if it got shippy stuff in it.

SO!!!

In the spirit of “damn Beasteye Denalien you got it bad, too bad for you your love interest is unavailable to you(atleast he thinks so)” here’s a little puke inducing i-don’t-even-know-what-this-is.

To not step on them lesbian toes, lemme clarify that i actually ship the general Commander character with Caithe not any specific Commander and only write her with my Commander(who happens to be male) because i know my Commander the best. (Also Caithe can be pansexual for all we know, we never got official clarification on her sexuality (i’m guessing precisely so players can play around with her idea more.))

This is... the dreaded Caithe x Commander fic:

OH, RIGHT! If the fic fits your Commander feel free to imagine them here instead of mine.

[Before i start i just want to note to you guys how freakin’ long i was sitting here staring at the screen because i had no opening scene envisioned. Goes to show i’m not a writer just a hobbist.]

 This was bad... really, REALLY bad. Well, to be fair it wasn’t anything serious like another Elder Dragon awakening to destroy Tyria, no. It was more along the lines of “no fahrar ever prepares you for this sort of vulnerability” bad.

 The commander - a big, dark furred, muscular charr - was figuratively cowering because in his paws he was holding an invitation to some sort of human “ball”. “Whatever that entails...”  he thought grimly, his dislike screams from his face. 

 Nah... he is Ash Legion, being well informed of other races’ culture is part of his identity. Ohh, he knew exactly what it is.

 “Wooo, you know you can just decline, right?” the one who delivered him the invitation personally was none other than Logan Thackeray, a friend who he shared battles with countless times.

 “I know i can... doesn’t mean i should.” the charr flipped the invitation over, examining the front page of it. It was well crafted, the letters shone with the light’s reflection. His name shining with big, bold letters, he almost felt like it was a taunt. “I mean the Queen herself invited me and i can already hear my Imperator say: You’re going, and keep our good relation with the humans rolling!”

 Logan laughed up at that “I appreciate the rhyme! Can i put your furry behind on the list then or not?”

 The Commander sighed. “yeah... yeah...” 

“Great! You are supposed to bring a plus one!”

Another great sigh. “Oooof course i’m supposed to... Who are you gonna bring, Logan?”

 The Seraph gave a cruel little grin “I’m affraid no one.” he replied with the cheekiest voice. “I’ll be on guard duty, protecting your lionhide so that you can finally have a break from all the fighting and worrying.”

“WHAT?! I’m a charr!! I don’t need a break from fighting! I’m literally bred to fight!” the Commander grabbed his face in both his paws, this can’t be happening! “This isn’t a ploy to prank me is it? You’d tell me if this was some elaborate prank, right?”

 Logan just laughed more “I would, I would! But it’s not a prank! It’s just one way we humans relax and create bonds.”

The Commander didn’t seem that impressed. “Right...”

“Anyway, it was nice to see you outside of the battlefield for once, Commander! I gotta go and deliver the other invitations too, see you on the battle field of looove!” Logan couldn’t help but laugh even as he was departing.

“Kalla... help me...”

_______________________

“Sorry Commander, you should have known Kas and I are going together.”

_______________________

“Your Imperator forces you to go too, huh? I’ll see you there, Cre said i’m her partner and to suck it up.”

_______________________

“You got an invite too? I’m going with Braham, it’s been so long since we hung out. It’ll be like old times, only this time hopefully no Scarlet...”

“BWAHAHAHAHAH, we will make sure to make fun of you and whoever you bring, boss!”

*bonk* “OUCH alright, ALRIGHT! Watch it, i still have stiches!”

“Serves you right, Braham.”

_______________________

“Yyyyeah, no, sorry... Gorrik and I have better things to do. Research won’t research itself!”

_______________________

With a big heave Denalien sat down on the edge of the scrying pool, Aurene observing him.

“You seem to be in a bad mood.” the ethereal voice of Aurene reached him in his mind.

“Ugh... i’m supposed to invite someone to this human ball where i’m gonna have to do humanly stuff like “smalltalk” and “dance”. I don’t do smalltalk and dance! Most of all, i don’t have anyone i’d WANT to dance with!”

“...That... sounds like a lie...”

That gave the Commander a pause.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well... you know how you can feel whatever i feel, right? It goes both ways and you feel different around different people. Like... for example...”

“NO! No! Don’t say it!”

“You were aware?”

 The Commander pawed at his face in frustration.

“Why don’t you ask her? I’m sure she’d say yes.”

Denalien was starting to growl and the growl slowly built up to a roar.

RRRRAAAAAAAGGGHH “NO!”

When the room quited down from the echo, one could hear that someone was walking up behind the Commander.

“Is this a bad time?” the charr leaped to his feet in fright. Ohh no...

“Caithe! Hi! What brings you here?”

“Hi! Actually you do, Commander. I wanted to ask you something.”

“No, no, nononononononononnononononono no, by Pyre’s bow PLEASE don’t ask what i think you want to ask.”

“You see i got this invitation from Queen Jennah-”

“I did too!” the Commander rudely interrupted her in hopes that maybe she’d forget what she wanted to ask.

 Poor Caithe, just watched in puzzlement but then continued.

 “Uh, i heard you don’t have a partner to go with, and i don’t have anyone either so i thought, as the two champions of Aurene, it’d be fitting to go together?” bless her heart, she looked just as nervous as the Commander.

 Ubeknownst to her, this is the scenario that the Commander wanted to avoid at all costs. But riddle me this: How does one tell the other that they love them wholeheartedly but is unable to imagine them being together and thus going to a ball where they will have to dance would make things awkward for them? You know... without actually saying those words.

 “Caithe, isn’t there someone you’d rather go with?”

 That seemed to hurt her feelings. QUICK! REPHRASE!

 “No! I mean, you might not like going with me, i’m... uhh a bad dancer.” Which was a half-truth, although he is not a great dancer he could dance, but he really needed to give her a reason to reconsider and this was the first thing to pop into his head!

 It seemed to smooth things over quickly though, because she is chuckling now.

 “Is that all? Whoever you’d ask to go with would have to work with your bad dancing too, you know!” her mirth died down a bit. “I can teach you to dance here and now, don’t worry!”

 AAAARRGGGHH

-pft...

-Are you mind-laughing at me, Aurene?!

-yes.

-...She can’t hear this, right?

-Not unless i want her to.

-phew...

-Just accept her invitation already! She’s waiting!

“Alright... fine. We can go together.”

 He got no other reply than a genuine smile, and a hand reaching out for him to take. At first he didn’t understand, but soon he realised that Caithe means to act on her word to teach him how to dance now. With an unseen sigh of defeat he gave his clawed hands to hers, let her do as she pleases. She won.

“We don’t have music here but the important thing is to make your step - which is supposed to mirror the step of your partner - to the rythm of the song.”

Beasteye Denalien: beastmaster, bow-expert, professional spy, the great Commander of the pact, God-killer, Dragonslayer. His greatest fear?

Having to dance with the one he loves.

“You seem to be a natural at this! Why were you so worried?”

Caithe is an legendary spy herself, the Commander knew he can’t lie to her so he opted to tell a truth... a slightly unrelated truth.

“When i was younger i had tried to woo someone with my maaad dancing skills, but she wasn’t into it i guess.” Ok so this was a half truth again, he didn’t try to woo that someone, just simply prove that he can dance. It was a dance battle he lost to a female charr back in the fahrar.

 Caithe laughed at that again- a lot of people were laughing at him today for some reason. “Sorry, it’s just hard to imagine you trying to impress someone with dancing. You don’t seem like the type that has to struggle for attention.”

“I’m really not cut out for courtships, i just don’t understand how to get someone to be interested in me that way.” This was a 100% true. Aurene kept watch of the two, it seems they forgot they were still dancing. She found it adorable, she imagined this must be what a child feels like as they watch their parents interact with each other.

 “There are tricks and tactics for that, similar in principle to traps of combat.” Was she bringing herself closer to the Commander? She was staring intently in his eyes and the poor charr couldn’t remove his from hers.

SPLASH

Neither of them noticed the scrying pool’s edge in time. Aurene was laughing as both surfaced.

They looked at each other, and for the first time that day the Commander was laughing with everyone else around him.

_______________________

"Introducing the two Champions of Aurene: The Commander of the Pact, Beasteye Denalien and the Leader of the Crystal Bloom, Caithe of the firstborn sylvari.”

 “Ugh, in charr society you speak for yourself, introduce yourself. No need for spokespeople.”

 As he walked around arm in arm with Caithe he saw his extended “warband”. Braham and Rox seemed to raid every snack bar as if they were in a race to see which of them could eat their own weight in fingerfood, Kas and Jory were talking about something with Countess Anise, Crecia and Rytlock were near the Queen, probably talking politics, and was that a glimpse of Canach that the charr caught? Huh, who knew...

 Caithe seemed to be looking around as well.

“Looking for someone?”

“No, just assessing the perimeter. A thief can’t be caught unguarded, you know.”

“Hehh, i’m Ash. I know. One should always be aware of their surroundings.”

“And be several steps before any unseen enemies.”

 This must have been one of the reasons the Commander unknowingly fell for her. She was every bit as sneaky and careful as any other Ash charr. Unlike the cold reputation of the Ash Legion the Commander knew he was “soft”, and he came to learn that Caithe too, holds those she loves close to her heart, despite her reputation as a thief. When the Commander realised she was so alike to him back then before Aurene hatched, he knew he was not facing a simple puppy-crush. Eversince then he knew he was in love with her, but...

 He is charr, and she is sylvari. The cultures of which they come from are just too different, and Caithe never showed signs of that sort of interest in him either. Whenever he felt he could get closer to her, his mind bombarded him with doubt. They are different species, he doesn’t have time, she’s not interested, it’s just a matter of time when he falls in battle for the final time, she’s branded which means probably immortal, he’s physically just so much bigger than her- there always was something.

His line of thought got interrupted by the Queen.

“Esteemed guests, people of Divinity’s Reach! The opportunity has come to share a dance with your partner, please enjoy yourselves!”

 A slow melody started to decorate the atmosphere, there was a small tug at his right sleeve.

 “Let me see if you still remember what i taught you.” Caithe offered her hand.

 They weren’t long in the dance when the Commander heard Braham laugh. By the time he looked at the norn, Rox softly slapped his neck though- enough warning to stop laughing. 

He realised more and more people started to look at them. “Why aren’t THEY dancing?”  But rather than joining in the dance, people started to murmur.

Caithe noticed that the Commander was agitated by the onlookers, even the Commander can be shy sometimes.

“Remember how we talked about tricks and tactics?”

The Commander looked at Caithe. “Yeah.”

“Want to know a trick i know, to catch someone’s interest?”

Denalien wasn’t so sure he did, but atleast it takes his mind off of the staring crowd.

“Sure.”

“One of the tricks is prolonged eyecontact. The longer, and steadier you keep eyecontact with your target, the more likely they will eventually feel some sort of bond with you.”

What was that implying... Burn him, he can’t look away from her eyes.

________________

“They are not even dancing now, they are just spinning while hugging!” Braham was still stuffing his face when Rox bumped him to take a look at where she was pointing.

“Real tackful, Braham!” 

[unofferable-fic]

THE ADVENTURES OF STEVE AND TRYING TOO HARD — ONESHOT

Summary: In an ideal universe where Loki and Ellie find themselves living happily in the Avengers Compound, Bucky Barnes presents us with the reasons why a certain super soldier can’t help but be enamoured by the young woman, but also elaborates as to why it is an absolutely terrible idea.

Gif originally found here

————

Set Post Thor Ragnarok (Infinity War never happened because I said so!)

Pairing: Loki x OFC

Warnings: Language, Steve getting mercilessly teased, hopefully excessive humour.

Word Count: 3,253

Playlist: “Still Into You” — Paramore, “Hard Times” — Paramore

————

A/N: Also available on AO3. The idea for this oneshot came about through a conversation I had with a close friend with regards how the other Avengers would get on with Ellie if they were to ever meet within the Unofferable universe. As it was, my friend was convinced that Steve Rogers would have the hots for Ellie, but I suppose we couldn’t really blame him right? This is pure humour, crack, banter between pals, with a little bit of Loki and Ellie thrown in, but hopefully y’all enjoy it either way. For the purpose of this oneshot, let’s just imagine that Ellie has been living on Earth since TDW with no idea that Loki was still alive, alrighty? And THANK YOU FOR 300 FOLLOWERS! You’s are a delight to write for and thanks for sticking with me <3

If there was one thing Bucky couldn’t fault Steve for, it was for trying.

Incessantly.

And if there was one person Steve could not stop trying to get the attention of, it was Ellie.

He saw the way the Super Soldier eyed the young woman when he thought no one was looking. Heck, you would have to be blind not to see it — even then, Bucky questioned whether someone who was visually impaired wouldn’t notice the constant pining. To him, and most of the team, it was as plain as day. This was, however, an awful idea for two reasons:

One, Ellie was still completely infatuated with her former lover, Loki, also known as the God of fucking Mischief, no matter how she might deny it given recent events.

And two, it didn’t seem like Steve was her type. At All.

Bucky couldn’t fault her for that. After all, being attracted to someone of the desirable sex was all down to uncontrollable personal preference. He loved Steve more than anyone, but if she saw his friend as nothing more than just that, he wasn’t going to argue. As long as she wasn’t a bitch about it, he would leave her to whatever men she wanted to actually date. She seemed to enjoy flirting with Bucky more than even attempting to reciprocate Steve’s advances. At least Bucky knew that she was merely joking with him, given the nature of how their friendship had blossomed after he was taken out of cryo. He enjoyed her company immensely, and it was refreshing to be around someone who was aware of his struggles while also avoiding treating him like he was made of glass.

Since Thor and Loki had returned to Earth, after what was apparently the destruction of their home world — planet, realm? I ain’t got no fuckin’ clue —  things in the compound had been tense. Bucky was not surprised when Ellie placed a cracking slap on the very-much-alive-Loki’s cheek. He whistled at the sight, while the god tried his best to smile at her while she verbally destroyed him for faking his death again. Having heard all about their relationship, Bucky understood her anger and frustration. You couldn’t help but sympathise with her when she stormed out of the room to cool off. It was sometime before she was willing to stay in the same room as him, but the insistence of pressing missions and requests for the Avengers’ assistance meant she would have to adjust to the new team member faster than she had hoped. Eventually, they were on — albeit, tense — speaking terms. Now that he saw them together, it was clear that they shared a deep bond spanning years. They were alike in mannerisms and habits, and Bucky usually watched them intently when they were in close quarters; they spent a great deal of time staring at the other when their back was turned. Bucky was getting impatient as to when they would stop being so stubborn and just admit they still loved each other.

Of course, Steve, the punk, saw this as his window of opportunity to declare his feelings for her. The day he approached Bucky for advice in the kitchen nearly left the latter crying in amusement.

“Ya wanna what?” he asked the Captain, wiping the tears from his cheeks as he sat at the counter eating a massive bowl of cereal.

Steve glared at him and pursed his lips together. “Jesus, Buck. There’s no need to be an ass about it.”

“No, no, no, ’m sorry. Just…explain that again.”

With a roll of his eyes, Steve repeated himself. “I want to ask Ellie out to dinner. Or maybe coffee, if she’d prefer that. Like a date.”

“You want to ask Ellie out on a date?”

“Yes.”

Bucky paused, holding back his grin. “Ah, I think ya might be punchin’ above your weight there, Stevie.”

Steve’s face fell immediately. “What do you mean?”

Frowning in his seat, the Winter Soldier let out a sigh and set down his spoon in the bowl. “Judgin’ by her relationship history, she seems to have a kinda…particular taste. And high end taste, at that.”

“You saying I’m not high end?”

“Nah, punk. I’m sayin’ that she was so deeply involved with Loki. Plus, it’s obvious he still loves her and that she loves him, if ya ask me. I mean…he’s basically a god. Maybe you shoulda sat this one out, pal.”

“If they loved each other, would they not just talk it out and get back together?” he asked, apparently not entirely convinced by his reasoning.

“I don’t think their situation is as easily put as that, even though I think they should just bite the bullet and talk about it.”

Steve shrugged, doing nothing to mask his dejected expression at the thought of Ellie not reciprocating his feelings. “Alright, that’s fair to say. But I really like her, Buck. What’s to say that maybe she likes me too? We get on pretty well.”

“I know ya do, but Loki would probably try to kill ya if you went anywhere near her and you know it. He has superpowers and shit. Don’t mess with magic, Steve.”

“Awh, c’mon—”

“D’ya see how he shoots energy from his hands? That’s fuckin’ cool. Ya can’t do that.”

“I know but—”

“He’d end ya in two seconds flat. Give up before you begin, that’s my advice. ’Ve got fifty bucks on Loki anyway; twenty that she’s gonna slap ya ’round like a rag doll.”

“Why would Ellie do—?”

“Ya got no hope, Steve. Punchin’ way above your weight here.”

“Okay, Bucky! I see your point!”

The former assassin did his best to hold back a grin. He loved to tease his best friend when the opportunity arose, so this occasion was no different. “’M not sure ya do. Lemme explain, okay, pal?”

“Oh, this should be good,” Steve said dryly and sat down on a stool next to him. “Well? Out with it.”

“Well, you’re punchin’ above your weight here, number one, ’cause that guy is a literal god or some shit, and, number two, she’s too hot for you anyway. ‘Ve a better chance with a dame like that.”

The Captain’s face was anything but amused, his eyes now narrowed and lips pursed tightly. “Of course, Bucky.”

Bucky shrugged casually and went back to eating his previously abandoned cornflakes. “I ain’t wrong!”

“Something tells me that you’re talking shit, punk,” Steve grunted and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Your advice has been anything but helpful.”

“You came to me for advice,” he replied. “’S not my problem if you think it’s harsh. I’m just tryin’ to look out for ya. I don’t think it would end well.”

“What wouldn’t end well?” an unmistakable voice called from the other side of the room. The super soldiers turned to see Tony strolling towards them.

“Awh, Jesus,” Steve groaned under his breath. “Anyone but him…”

Without hesitation, Bucky explained the situation. “Steve wants to ask Ellie out on a date because he thinks she pretty.”

Steve’s gaze immediately shot to his (now former) best friend. “Bucky?! What the hell—!?”

“Oh,” Tony whistled with a cringe on his face and made his way over to the presses. “Damn, Cap. That’s a terrible idea.”

“Why?” he demanded, distraught. “And why are you making that face?”

“It’s a terrible idea because there is a certain demigod in your way,” he stated simply as he grabbed a mug for some coffee. “Loki would sooner tear you in half then let your big muscly-self get anywhere near his beloved. And I’ll have you know that this is the face I make when I hear a very stupid idea.”

“Have ya forgotten he threw Stark outta window before?”

“You weren’t even there when that happened!”

“That’s irrelevant.”

“Not really!”

“Alright,” Tony cut in, waving his free hand while he poured coffee into his mug with the other. “We’re getting sidetracked.”

Bucky nodded in agreement. “The main point we’re tryin’ to make is that ya definitely shouldn’t be chasin’ after Loki’s girl, even if you guys are close. While what I said about her likin’ me instead of you was meant to kinda annoy ya, I also meant it in terms of her taste in guys.”

As Bucky was expressing his thoughts, Tony stood there umm-hmming along and blowing on his hot beverage. “I’m with Sergeant Plum on this one, Cap. Punching way above your weight. Plus, last time you fought Loki, he slapped you silly until I showed up to save the day.”

Captain America stood there and scoffed aloud with the biggest pout on his face. “I hate all of you.”

“No you don’t; you love us.”

Steve looked positively horrified as Tony made a kissy face at him, and Bucky nearly choked on his cereal as he laughed. “How old are you, Tony?”

The billionaire was quick to gasp in mock hurt. “That is a very impolite question so I will not dignify it with an answer. Also, Barnes is right; he would have a better chance with her. You’re too…blonde, or something. Too morally righteous! You need to break the rules a little! Be spontaneous!”

“Unpredictable!” Bucky added excitedly.

Tony clicked his fingers and continued on. “If you plan to compete with the God of Mischief, obviously! Reindeer Games is always doing spontaneous stuff.”

“He’s probably the most spontaneous guy here.”

“Oh, and dye your hair. Get a beard!” Tony paused thoughtfully, took a quick sip of his coffee, and then explained further. “Basically, become Barnes in terms of looks, and Loki in terms of attitude. Got it? That way you’ll be set!” Steve was about to reply, but was overshadowed by more of his friend’s quick thinking. “Although she still might choose Loki ’cause, you know, history and stuff.” He shrugged. “Can’t compete with that.”

“Tony’s got a point,” Bucky confirmed. “You’re competin’ with someone she basically grew up with…on another planet… While you were frozen in some ice.” He hesitated for a few seconds then nodded his head firmly and met his old friend’s eyes. “Maybe ya should just sit down, Stevie.”

“It’s over, Rogers,” Tony agreed and gave the man a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “You tried but it was never going to work out.”

“What?” Steve exclaimed, looking between the pair completely stunned. “But I didn’t even get to try yet!”

“You tried your best,” Bucky went on, ignoring his outburst. “But she just wasn’t into ya.”

“Just hold on a minute,” he grumbled, using his Captain’s voice to shut them up. “I’m not afraid of Loki, okay? He has no say over who she decides she wants to go on dates with. He doesn’t own her.”

Tony raised a brow and casually leaned against the counter behind him. “Uh, it’s not just Loki you have to worry about.”

“What do you mean?”

“You forgot about the shippers.”

“Awh Jesus, Tony…”

“The who?” Bucky asked, realising that he was missing something important. “I don’t follow.”

“The shippers,” Tony repeated, his face quite relaxed. “It’s a name given to fans who really love two characters together as a couple. They say that they ‘ship them’. And when they have a favourite ship — let’s say Ellie and Loki — they mix their names together to make the ship name. In this case, it’s Lollie, which is sickeningly adorable. Loki plus Ellie makes Lollie. You get it?”

“Kinda,” Bucky replied, scratching his bearded jaw. “And they do this for all different characters?”

“You bet they do! My personal favourite is the ship name for Pepper and I; Pepperony. It’s genius.”

“Oh, that is pretty clever! So, hypothetically, Steve and Ellie would make…Stellie?”

“Eww,” Tony gasped as a shudder ran through him. “It sounds unnatural.”

“Okay,” Steve grabbed their attention, finding it hard to keep himself calm. “You two are getting distracted again. Why should I be worried about the shippers?”

Tony looked at him in mild disbelief. “Are you joking? They would not approve at all! Do you have any idea how loyal the Lollie shippers are?”

“I’m assuming very?”

“Very.”

Steve sighed heavily. “Alright but I don’t exactly care about the opinion of these people. Let them be disappointed. Is the main concern here not Ellie and I being happy?”

“Look, nobody likes disappointing shippers. You could always just veer towards another pairing—”

“I’ve already told you, I’m not gay, Tony.”

“Well I hope you’re happy disappointing all the Stucky and Stony shippers.”

Bucky leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing. Did he just fuckin’ say…

“Did you just smash our names together?” he asked Tony, pointing between himself and Steve. “In one’a those ship name things?”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, some of them are into the idea of you two bumping uglies.”

“Pfft, no way. He’s not my type; way too needy.”

“Did you just call me needy, jerk?”

“I’m just sayin’ what we’re all thinkin’, punk.”

“See?” Tony insisted, waving his free hand between them. “It’s playful banter like that that makes people ship you two beefcakes.”

“Look, Tony,” Steve began slowly, doing his best to regain some amount of control over the conversation. “I see the points you’ve both made, but I think I’m just going to ask Ellie myself and see what she says.”

“Ask Ellie what, Captain?”

All three of the men froze mid-conversation at the sound of another person’s voice joining in. Bucky slowly turned his head to see the God of Mischief himself standing in the  doorway of the kitchen. His face was completely blank, not giving away any ounce of emotion, and all this did was make the Winter Soldier unsure as to whether he had heard much of the conversation.

“Uh,” Steve drawled, looking very much like a cornered animal. Bucky had to hold back a grin at his previous statement of not being afraid of Loki. “I j-just was going to ask Ellie if she wanted to, eh, go for a…run later.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Bucky mumbled under his breath and withheld the urge to facepalm. Steve was always a terrible liar.

Loki, looking completely stone faced, walked slowly into the kitchen and replied. “I see.”

“How are you two doing, actually?” Tony asked, watching as the demigod opened the fridge and pulled out an apple. “You and Ellie? Still having trouble in paradise?”

“There is no trouble, Stark.”

“Uh, not to be the bearer of bad news, but have you forgotten that wicked handprint she left on your chiselled cheek?”

“I think that is of little relevance,” he shrugged and sat at the counter across from Bucky and Steve with his apple and a knife in hand. “Women do that to me frequently.”

“Didn’t ya also get a slap off the Hulk?” Bucky asked as he finished his own food

“Banner hits a little harder than Ellie,” Loki answered, cringing slightly at the memory. “I find that when she hits me it is a lot more…pleasurable.”

Steve’s eyes nearly fell out of his head at that. “What the fu—”

“So you two are…” Tony set down is mug and made a circle with his index finger and thumb before repeatedly putting his other index finger through. “Gettin’ some again?”

Loki stared back, expression unreadable. “I beg your pardon?”

“Never mind. What I mean is, let’s say someone were to — oh, I don’t know — ask her out, let’s say on an intimate get-together. We call that kinda thing a date here on Earth. What would you do if someone asked Ellie out on a date?”

All three men looked at Loki intently, gauging his reaction in a way that Bucky was aware probably made it very obvious that someone did in fact want to ask Ellie out. Alas, they sat expectantly and the Trickster picked up his apple and began slowly carving slices as he spoke. “If someone were to seek out the little one and ask to court her, I can assure you that he would not get within ten feet of her before I were to slit his throat with this knife, Captain.”

As if to drive his point home further, Loki stabbed the knife down through the apple’s core and suddenly levelled his gaze on a very stunned Steve. The silence in the room was deafening for some time.

“It as nice knowing you, Cap,” Tony said in a rush, patted his shoulder, then hurried out of the room as quickly as possible with coffee in hand.

The two super soldiers were staring at the god in disbelief, a sweat very clearly beginning to break out on Steve’s forehead.

“Do you think me an idiot?” Loki hissed, green eyes boring into him.

“Eh…no.”

“I did warn ya,” Bucky mumbled, awkwardly sitting there with his bowl in his grasp.

“Hey, guys.”

The sight of the subject of their conversation walking into the kitchen caused Bucky to let out a relieved sigh. Ellie walked up to the counter and assessed them all. “Jesus, what’s goin’ on in here? You’s look a bit tense.”

“We’re just talkin’ about…women,” Bucky explained while the other two glared at each other. “Ya know how guys get about women! Anyway, what brings ya to this side of the compound?”

Ellie nodded slowly, clearly not convinced in the slightest, but avoided the subject anyway. “I was lookin’ for Loki, actually. Tony said you were in here.”

“Yes, love?” he answered, grinning in delight.

“I was comin’ to get you so we could watch some more Black Mirror. Are you good to go?”

“Of course.” He got to his feet and handed her a slice of apple which she took happily. “Lead the way.”

Before they could get anywhere near the door, Steve bit the bullet and called out. “Hey, uh, Ellie?”

Bucky was quick to intervene with a hushed, “Steve—”

“What’s up?” Ellie asked, standing in front of Loki and unaware of the look of complete distain her former lover (possibly current? Who fuckin’ knows…) was sending the Captain.

“Any chance you might want to, uh, get a cup of coffee together later? I’d love to talk more about that book we were discussing before.”

The young woman showed no obvious signs of surprise, but Bucky knew that she became a master of hiding her emotions because she learned from the best. Even still, it took her a few seconds to answer. “Sorry, Steve. I promised I’d watch telly with Loki tonight. Maybe another time soon though? ”

He smiled slightly and nodded. “Sure, have a good night.”

With that, the pair left the room and left Steve and Bucky sitting at the counter alone once more.

“Sorry, pal,” Bucky said sympathetically after a moment.

His friend met his gaze and answered. “What?”

“I know ya liked her a lot. It’s never nice gettin’ rejected.”

Steve was the picture of confusion. “What are you talking about, Buck? I didn’t get rejected.”

Bucky’s eyes went wide at his statement. “Yes, ya did. Did ya just fail to notice that she said no?”

“Actually, she said ‘another time’. That’s not an outright no. There’s still a chance!”

“Oh my god,” Bucky sighed and held his head in his hands. “You’re really not helpin’ the blonde beefcake stereotype, ya know that?”

Steve let out a chuckle at that and shook his head. “Shut up, jerk.”

“Not a chance, punk.”

Taglist: @jonsaiscomiing @wrappedinlokisarms @unseelie1963 @talinalani @fightmelight @spookass @myinnerkemono @tumbler-bumblr @jclements919 @ao3-hipster-fangirl-trash @proactiveturtles @iamthered @tlbrooks-68

[jacxkelly]

jack/david roommates au, they like each other but they both think the other one is in a relationship

This one was super fun to write too omg I about died. I had fun with toying with David’s perspective! 

The school year would have gone a lot smoother if Jack Kellycould stop being the aggressive, sensitive, artistic, romantic, New York, gradeA walking piece of boyfriend material that he was.

A lot smoother still if David wasn’t thoroughly into someonewho was aggressive, sensitive, artistic, romantic, New York, and grade Awalking boyfriend material.

Probably even smootherif that aggressive, sensitive, artistic, romantic, New York, grade Awalking piece of boyfriend material wasn’t currently someone else’s boyfriend.

David dropped his pen onto his notebook finally, leaning backin his desk chair and rubbing at his face. It was nearly one in the morning,and Jack was still out who knows where with Crutchie. Admittedly, they were apretty cute couple, and the fact that Crutchie was a walking cliché of that guyno one could hate didn’t help anything.

When he had first moved into their shared dorm there hadbeen a week where David thought he had a chance. Jack seemed flirtatious mostdays, talking to each other well into the night. They laughed, had fun. It feltexciting and thrilling and made David panic slightly all at once. That wasuntil David started up his study group and Jack started going out with Crutchieall the time.

So they seemed to dance around each other a little moreawkwardly now. It was beginning to affect David’s focus on his classes and thatcouldn’t happen. Not when there wasn’t a chance of anything happening at all.Maybe it was time for one of them to bring it up, bite the bullet, and addressthe problems at hand. The painful scene of walking to the RA’s door and saying,‘Hey, here’s the thing. I’m pretty attracted to my roommate but he’s in arelationship and I need to remove myself from this situation. Possible theschool, or even the earth entirely if that is an option. What form do I need tosign?’ played out over and over in David’s head.

With a groan, he dropped forward and let his forehead hitthe desk with a ‘thunk’, right at the time that the door opened.

“You’se still up? Woulda thought ya’d be doin’ ‘study group’by now.”

Speak of the devil.

David sat up abruptly, turning around in his chair to stareat his roommate. “…You’re back early.”

“Nah, not really. Crutch’s got a report due, he wanted toget a start on it.” Jack shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it onto his bedcarelessly.

A glance at the clock occurred, as if to prove his point. “Areport to do at one in the morning?”

“Hey, it’s a head start. It’s only due in seven hours.” Jacksnorted, hopping up onto his bed next to pull off his sneakers.

David tried not to focus too much on his hands, or anythingelse that he was doing, or anything else that was the entire being of untouchableJack Kelly in general. If only things were different. Maybe he could have askedhim out a long time ago, when he was certain him and Crutchie weren’t together.Their relationship had happened suddenly, or maybe it had always been there hewasn’t sure.

“So what happened to ‘study group’ tonight anyways?”

Jack’s words snapped him out of his thoughts, clearing histhroat and immediately turning back to his desk. The pen was tucked carefullyinto the mug on his desk, poking t around with the other writing instrumentsinside and listening to it clink against the porcelain. “Got cancelled.”

“Ah…so what’s ‘Study Group’s’ name, anyhow. So I can rag on ‘imfor dissin’ ya on a nice night like tonight.” Jack’s tone was slower thannormal, as if he was actually thinking before he was speaking this time around.

David turned in his chair slowly, staring at his dormmateblankly. “…I’m sorry, what?”

“Study Group. The guy you’se been seein’.” Jack shrugged,making a vague waving gesture with his hands as if that elaborated everything.

The brunette sputtered, blinking rapidly at the accusation. “Theguy I’ve been seeing? Jack—it’s a study group for my Civil Cases course it’snot like I’m going out on a date every Tuesday night, my life isn’t that exciting!”

Jack looked thrown for a loop, and thoroughly confused.Almost as if someone had just presented him with a completely possible theoryfor the universe actually being a hyper realistic piece of computer softwarethat we were all hooked into. “…So you’se tellin’ me you’re single?”

“Uh, yes.” David made a face, scrunching up his nose alittle and furrowing his brows, “Of course I am. I meet with them every Tuesdayat seven and sometimes we stay out late the coffee shop is twenty-four hours—“

“Well, you’se know, ya came back one time with that mark onyer mouth—“

“Jack—I told you, Race flung open the door and hit me in theface it split my lip.”

“Well, you’se never know! Sometimes’ it could mean anythin’—“

“You thought a split lip was a sign that I’m having sex every Tuesday night at seven??”

David sounded scandalized by this point, getting to his feetand marching over to Jack. “You have no right to assume anything about mypersonal life or relationships now when you’re running around like you arewhile you’re in a relationship—“ Hejabbed his finger at Jack’s chest, emphasizing his point.

The shorter boy didn’t make a single move to swat his handaway, he just started up and David and cut him off instead. “Hold on—you’sethink I’m in a relationship?? Withwho??”

“With who—Crutchie. You’re dating Crutchie.”

The room went quiet for a moment, both of them just staringat each other. “…You’se think ‘m datin’ my literal adopted brother.” Jackdeadpanned, then immediately started laughing.

David, however, wasn’t laughing. He was trying to wrap hismind around the last few minutes of conversation. “Your…adopted brother.”

“Yeah–! Oh, this is great—you honestly thought we was datin’??”

“Well you’re out with him all the time! And—I dunno, youmake him laugh, he makes you laugh….”

“People tend to make each other laugh, Davey. It’s a commonfact of human nature and what not. Whatever fancy words you use.” Jack wasgrinning at him now, like someone had handed him all the confidence in theworld.

David fell quiet once again, sorting everything through. “…soif this means…you’re single…”

“….Davey, just cut to the chase and lemme take ya outtomorrow.” Jack’s grin widened impossibly so, reaching out finally and catchingthe other’s hand within his own.

David stared down at their hands, all too calmly curling hisfingers around Jack’s own. “Thank ya god…” He breathed before nodding. “Yeah, I’lllet you take me out tomorrow.”

[yoursatanboyfriend]

The Ninth Paradigm: Chap 2.

Title: The Ninth Paradigm (X) Rating: M Warnings: Heavy themes such as: Non-con/dub-con, PTSD, Manipulation, Child Abuse, Gang Violence, references to depression and self-harm. Summary: There are an infinite amount of numbers between seven and eight, none will ever be 9.

                                           Tattooed Fingers.

“You call it identity theft, I like to call it good ‘ol fashioned possession. Get this, you wake up one day, you’re 30k in debt and there’s a warrant out for your arrest for a crime you ain’t never even heard of. The devil doesn’t need your body, nah-- all he needs is your social security number.”

-The man who calls himself Bill Cipher, 2 years prior.

“Never heard of him.”

“What?”

“I said I never heard of him. Checked the database and everything. No Bill Cipher. Nada.”

Stanford Pines tapped his fingers nervously on his desk while his other hand clutched the phone precariously. On the other end was an old friend of his, Joseph Cummings. His past with Joseph was nothing worthwhile, just old friends who called favours in from one another on occasion. It was a relationship Stanford rather enjoyed; Joseph was the precise distance from Ford that he liked and aimed to cultivate with everyone within his personal life.

“I saw his ID card, Joe.” Ford said, slinking into his chair. “It looked legitimate.”

“Well, fakes improve daily. You try stopping by that guy’s work place? You said it was around the Wellstone area, right? That ain’t too far from where you are.”

“I doubt that’s a good idea. It might be his plan all along, to lure me there.”

“Doubt the guy’s been waiting for days just to jump you, but suit yourself, Ford. Listen, I gotta go. Was great catching up with ya, you lemme know if you need anything else, alright?” Both men said their appropriate goodbyes and hung up.

It had been five days so far, and Bill had not called. Not that a phone call was expected, but rather, it seemed inevitable. He could only assume Bill was watching him now, and had been ever since their meeting, looking to spot any irregularities in Ford’s daily life; anything to imply he’d upset the balance and harmony.

Ford was left to speculate and endure the heavy feeling of someone watching him. Once he’d become aware of his voyeur, wherever Ford went, eyes felt fettered to him. He’d never been the self-conscious type, but now every action seemed to be scrutinized by a panel of judges and immortalized within Bill’s roll of film.

Privacy was no longer a luxury he could enjoy. He hated this, and by extension, hated Bill Cipher.

It was only 2:30pm. He could stop by the area. In broad daylight, it should be fine.

Ford pulled into the drive-way, or rather what was meant to pass for the driveway. Wellstone wasn’t necessarily a bad part of town, but was avoided as though it were. Undesirables frequented the area often, but its reputation had not abated enough to lower property value— not yet, anyway.

He could spot Bill from his car, outside smoking. He wore the same mustard coat Ford had seen him in days prior. Ford took this opportunity to get a good look at Bill Cipher, and began noticing a feeling of nostalgia gnawing at him; he’d seen Bill somewhere before, or rather, someone similar to Bill. (he must’ve spotted Bill when the man trailed him, and his mind was now recollecting those memories) Despite it, to call Bill attractive was perhaps an understatement. The man was striking, in an otherworldly way. The kind of beauty one’s primitive mind registered as only able to be seen but never touched. His height was a surprise too, and Ford thought he could easily be taller than Ford.

Bill spotted him and waved enthusiastically in a way that made it hard to believe he was 31. Ignoring the feeling of dread and reluctance that overcame him, Ford exited his car and approached Bill with a forced half-smile.

“Oh, let me get a look at you.” Bill let out a low whistle as his eyes wandered across Ford shamelessly. “All this way to see me huh? At my work place, no less. So, what happened, kid? Couldn’t wait anymore?”

“I just came to see if this place was real.” Ford said, suddenly having cold feet. This was not a good idea, it was a stupid move—did he even have a plan? He should’ve drove past here, surveyed the area first rather than acting impulsively. Too inquisitive for his own good. He shouldn’t be under-estimating this man simply because his flaky demeanour made him appear harmless.

"I’ll be—"

“Going? Not so fast there.” Bill made a quick grab for Ford’s sleeve and gave an impatient tug towards himself. "My office is empty, come on in.”

Ford looked at the tight grip on his sleeve, and surrendered with a sigh. With how pushy he sensed the other man could be, leaving would now be difficult. Curiosity was a factor in play too, and a little peak couldn’t be all that bad. He was led inside by Bill alike to a child eager to show their parents something. It only made Ford feel again, that he was much too old for Bill. Ford always found himself being more lenient with those far younger than him. Even if he knew Bill’s age, the man still appeared to him as a child. Accepting the role of a pushover was likely to backfire with Bill though, Ford thought. Very soon.

The office was what one would expect of a professional environment; standard desk, 3 chairs and absolutely nothing interesting of note. Cipher Investigations was branded on the glass, a sleek, strong design. To see Cipher next to ‘Investigations’ was an amusing sight, considering it was both Bill's alleged surname and what he sought to solve. The office itself was tidy and clean. Since he’d seen Bill smoking outside, he concluded Bill highly valued a clean environment.

Ford briefly thought it to be the sort of clean you kept when you were hiding something.

“Tell me how I’ve been on your mind lately. Non-stop, I might add.” Bill seated himself behind his desk with Ford following his lead and sitting across from him.

“You’ve been asking about me, asking the big guys.” He continued, crossing his legs.

“How—" Ford began but was once again, interrupted.

“You think I didn’t pay off a couple people up there, make sure not just anybody can get the one up on me?” Bill spun his chair side to side to a rhythm of his own making. “And if anyone tries digging up dirt on me, my little rat rings the alarm and lets me know immediately.” He snapped his fingers for emphasis and drew Ford’s eyes to his fingers. Tattooed fingers. “Got friends in high places huh, Ford?”

“The same could be said for you.” Ford replied, his eyes still on Bill’s darkly tattooed fingers. He’d seen this design somewhere before, but where exactly eluded him. When Ford’s eyes returned to Bill’s face, it now wore an intense look one would wear when scrutinizing another’s actions while expecting a specific outcome. Keeping the mutual eye contact, Bill lowered both his hands into his lap, and they disappeared from Ford’s view. The act was so deliberate, Ford knew Bill had wanted him to see his decorated hands, to glimpse the black—but why?

“Can’t believe you burnt those photos I gave you, by the way. It was pricey to print all of those, you know.”

“So, you’ve still been following me?”

“Nah. I guessed. You’re the type to burn all evidence.”

Ford wasn’t entirely convinced.

“About who hired you…” Ford began, waiting for Bill’s response. Once he got the approval nod to go on, he continued. “It was Fiddleford, wasn’t?”

“Fiddleford…Fiddleford what?”

“Fiddleford McGucket.”

“Yikes, real unfortunate name.”

“Well? It was him, right?”

“I am not at liberty to say.” Bill uncrossed and crossed his legs, legs inverted this time. “But you’ve gotta wonder…what makes you think a bumpkin would be interested in little ol’ Stanford Pines?”

So, it was Fiddleford. The way Bill gave out information was not insidious enough to go unnoticed, but could easily by missed by a simpleton. Bill gave a chin tilt in Ford’s direction, silently urging him to elaborate on the relationship between Fiddleford and himself.

“We had a falling out, him and I. A big one. We both ceased contact with one another, it was a mutual decision. Did he—theoretically, if Fiddleford were to have hired you, would he have told you the reasons? I’ve never been to someone of your trade so I’m afraid I do not know the protocol—or your protocol, for that matter.”

Bill leaned onto his desk, his body weight on his elbows and chin resting on his now folded, gloved hands. “Theoretically…well, it’d probably be some humdrum junk like Heartfelt Redneck Apologies: the greatest hits. Maybe something exciting happened and you’re in danger. But that’s wishful thinking, kid.”

How much had Fiddleford told Bill regarding the circumstances under which they parted? When they separated, both had agreed to go into hiding for a minimum of three months. Three months had ended two weeks ago. And what exactly did Ford know about Bill Cipher? The more Ford considered his own past, the more he began to suspect things were not as they appeared.

Contacting a PI to get a hold of Ford simply to apologize seemed unlikely. He was hired to follow Ford, to observe Ford. If danger was the real reason, and it seemed the likely reason, there was a possible reason why.

Ford could not share that reason with Bill Cipher though.

“Maybe you hired yourself to follow me and you’re pretending it was Fiddleford.” Ford joked, deciding to take a different approach, but Bill didn’t seem impressed.

“Maybe I did. Maybe I saw you one day, and thought ‘here’s a guy I might like’ and then followed you around.” Bill began laughing, and for the first time, Ford thinks being alone with Bill might not be a good idea. “Maybe I—maybe I pretended there was a client to make myself look a little less creepy!”

“Your jokes are hardly amusing.”

“Right back at ya there, buddy.” A brief silence followed as tension had begun to creep into the room; although most of the hostility was without a doubt generated by Ford, Bill was hardly passive himself.

A sudden loud ruffling noise shot through the air as Bill opened a drawer and pulled out several thick folders. Once he’d managed to free them, he dropped them in front of Ford and urged with a hand to look through them.

“That’s everything I have on you. Dental records, doctor records, college junk. Smart is a bit of an understatement for you, isn’t it? I didn’t know IQs went that high. And twelve PhD.s, how did you even manage that? If you weren’t so smart, I’d suspect you fucked your way to these credentials, Stanford.”

Ford’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses; the shift in Bill’s tone and attitude had anger simmering in his belly. Ford’s intellect being the only thing that made him worthwhile was an insidious belief that haunted him for too much of his life. Although he no longer believed his intelligence was his only saving grace, attempts at reminding that he would be nothing without it angered him.

Revealing and emphasizing just how much he knew about Ford was intimidation tactic—another intimidation tactic, to be exact. The heavy flirtatious attitude was one, too. Ford had slowly begun to understand Bill, all that was left was to adjust his attitude in response.

But God, was Ford awful at social situations.

Bill took Ford’s silence as an expression of resentment. “Are you angry? Don’t be, kid. You’re brilliant, ahead of your time, Ford. You’re the type of guy that ends up changing the world.” Bill tapped a hand on a random folder. “This, this is why I like you. Your vast intellect—and the fact you’re just better than everyone else.  But you know how it is, IQ, I can’t fuck your mind. And that desire’s gotta go somewhere, right?”

“I’m to believe your infatuation with me, a man twice, most likely thrice your age, is real and sincere? You take me for a fool.” Ford said, having had enough of this wonderland nonsense. He would contact Fiddleford his own way, to confirm once and for all. Dealing with Bill Cipher was a hassle not worth the effort.

“I’m leaving. I appreciate you seeing me like this. Enjoy the rest of your day.” He stood up hastily, eager to leave as soon as possible. If Bill intercepted him, he knew he’d have trouble leaving.

“Stanford Pines, you really don’t want to leave right now.”

Ford wanted to ignore him, to walk away but besides his own foolish curiosity, there was something unmistakably sinister in Bill’s voice. It happened quickly, and suddenly Bill was between Ford and the door. He approached Ford with hands up and palms open; they lowered and took both of Ford’s own hands, placing them parallel against his sides, just below his armpits. The material of Bill's yellow jacket held a distinctive 'new, just bought and never washed' feeling to Ford's fingers. Once in position, Bill wriggled both himself and Ford’s hands until the fit was snug, then pressed his own palms atop Ford’s hands.

Something hard, very hard, rested at Bill’s side, cradled in the nook at his armpit. It was a gun. Of course Bill had a gun. Didn’t all private investigators have one?

“It’s loaded. Are you scared, Ford?”

Ford didn't respond. A threat? Was Bill threatening him indirectly? Clearly, right? That’s why he’d even let Ford know he had a gun. This was bad.

While Ford considered the situation, Bill wrapped both arms, only at the wrist, around Ford’s neck intimately. “Ask me if I’ve killed a man, Stanford. Go on, ask me.” The voice was low, nearly sensual and very unlike the Bill that Ford had seen until now.

Ford was frozen in place, but found it in him to comply, “H-have you killed a man?”

Bill only laughed.

Bill's hands slithered down onto Ford’s shoulders, and he side stepped, turning while simultaneously moving Ford with him. Now Bill’s lower back was against the desk, with Ford nearly being pulled onto him. It’s uncomfortable, awkward and Ford just wanted to leave.

There was a rush of cold on Ford’s abdomen and he glanced down, only to realize Bill had slipped a hand beneath his shirt—when had Bill removed his gloves? The hand caressed softly, and then suddenly there were nails dragging across his skin, making circles on it. Bill’s other hand held Ford by the shirt, with a grip that implied to move would result in consequences Ford would not like.

“I think we should do something about that anger of yours, Ford. It’ll only accumulate and before you know, you’ll explode. That’s the theory behind human combustion, isn’t it, Mr Smart Guy?“ The hand at Ford’s stomach migrated to his lower back, now clawing at the skin there. "So, are you familiar with the concept of hate fucking?” The last word was punctuated by Bill slipping his hand further up Ford’s bare back, only to drag his nails painfully down again.

Ford does not push Bill away because he begins to understand nothing Bill ever does is unintentional. His skill at wearing and removing his gloves implied dexterity of the hands and Ford thinks if he pushes Bill back far enough, that gun he’d felt would come out quickly and then Ford would have a very hard time saying no.

“Bill, that’s—that’s enough, Bill. I’m not interested.”  A jerk of defiance from Ford only seemed to entertain Bill more; he was clearly one for the chase and Ford could only think of running. Bill removed both hands from Ford, grabbing at Ford’s belt next. The sound of it becoming undone was too loud to Ford’s ear, the silence of the room only exacerbating the jangle. He says no but Bill doesn’t respond. Another no, a firmer no this time while clutching at Bill’s wrists, and he can tell Bill is becoming angry. It’s in his movements that gain a sudden hard edge in their touch, and the coiled tension manifesting in his shoulders.

Ford squirmed beneath Bill’s touch, and was met with a, “Don’t run away.” Ford wants to though, and regrets coming here. Ford has so many regrets, and they just keep piling up on top of each other.

Black tattoos surface on Ford’s mind again, and now he knows, knows where he’s seen those tattoos before—on the man whose deal Fiddleford and he had rejected three months and two weeks prior. He knows why he’s afraid of Bill Cipher– it had been accumulating steadily in the back of his mind as he learned more and more about the man; the parallels were there, he only had to accept them.

No – he’s paranoid, it’s paranoia. Finger tattoos were common, Bill seemed the type to like tattoos. No, he was over-thinking. Knowledge of the gun has made him jumpy—that’s it.

And because Bill was too young to be that man.

But Ford is scared, and he does not want to make an enemy of a man who knows everything about him. A man who owns a gun, and who wanted Ford to know he owns a gun and is most certainly not afraid to use it. A man who, even jokingly, says he sees himself above the law.

Was Ford overthinking all this? Can he instead, just push Bill away? Can he? Can he without repercussions? He doesn’t know anymore, he just keeps saying no, even when Bill’s hand is descending his pants at tortuous pace, going low, past his groin to first caress his inner thigh—why, god knows, Bill just wants him to sweat– he says no no no but Bill ignores him and begins to crouch, to get on his knees, and Ford is still saying no, and then he says,

“Not yet.”

And Bill stops immediately.

“Not yet.” Bill repeated after him, pulling away almost robotically. “Not yet.” Bill repeats once more, gently grabbing Ford’s chin and tilting his face to plant a kiss on his jawline. It was tender, an action Ford would never had guessed capable of the Bill in front of him. “I can work with not yet. I can’t work with no, however, so I don’t want to hear that word from you again, Ford.” It’s in a low voice devoid of the perkiness that Ford had come to associate with Bill.

The hand abandoned Ford’s chin, and slid down, dragging across Ford’s chest and stopping in the middle.

“I’m great at taking orders, if you hadn’t noticed.” The other hand’s fingers flicked at Ford’s chin. “I bet you are too. I bet you’re great at things you haven’t tried yet, Ford.  I bet you’d be great at me.”

Gripping Ford by the curls, Bill pulled him close, and said, “When this happens, and it’s going to happen, it’ll be exactly what you want and how you want it. I’ve seen your future, Stanford Pines, and I’m in it.”

And just like that, it ended. Bill broke into a grin and stepped away from Ford. “Oh boy, that’s enough for today. You might have a heart attack if I keep this up!” Bill returned to his desk, demeanour as if nothing within the past five minutes had transpired.

Stopping was not what Ford had expected of Bill. He’d expected the opposite, a basic denial of his autonomy, a more determined and forceful approach to Ford’s lack of desire but no. Bill had backed off, unaffected.

“Do you enjoy doing that?” Ford’s voice was slightly shaky but better than he expected.

“Yeah.”

“You—you threatened me with a gun!”

“I told you I had a gun. Telling is not the same as threatening, jeez.”

Another silence settled between them, and this time, Bill broke it. “I have a gun, Stanford. And I’m always watching you.”

“After you said you weren’t? Are you insane?! What is wrong with you?!”

“Me being insane is true but completely irrelevant right now.” Bill pointed at Ford. “I’m watching you, and I’m armed. Let’s say your little country fellow was worried about your safety. If he was, he’d ask, let’s say, a guy just like me, to watch you, maybe protect you if anything goes wrong…”

“Bullshit. Protect me? If you wanted me to know you’re armed and going to ‘protect’ me, you wouldn’t be forcing yourself on me while making damn sure I know you’re armed!”

Bill shrugged. “Hey, my methods are obscure and mysterious and I was just fooling around.”

“You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“And here I am, apologizing. Take the apology or don’t, smart guy.”

“I’ve had it with your silly intimidation tactics.”

“Intimidation tactics? Plural huh? Oh, please elaborate. I’m dying to hear this, Stanford!”

“Your—that thing you do, whatever you want to call it, where you throw yourself at me. It’s an intimidation tactic.”

“Go on.”

“I don’t need to elaborate. You know damn well what I mean.”

“You get full marks, smart guy.” Bill gave an exaggerated shrug. “I’ll stop.”

“Why? What’s the point of doing it? Of doing this? To me?”

“Maybe I liked seeing you squirm a little.”

Ford dropped into the seat, and focused on steadying his breathing. He’d reached his limit. He couldn’t stay any longer here. But if Fiddleford had hired Bill to protect Ford, God, did he have lousy taste.

“I’ll call you, for real this time. We have lots to discuss.”

Ford sighed, already feeling defeated. If he did not say yes now, he knew Bill would pursue him. Intuition. “The weekend. I’m free…the weekend, you can call me then.”

“I’m never in town on weekends.”

Ford frowned. Something about this seemed familiar, or rather, it seemed like important information but he did not know why yet.

“…I—just, Thursday. It’s Tuesday now. Thursday.”

“I’ll see.” Bill stood up. “I’ll walk you out.”

Bill walked ahead. Before opening the door, he turned to Ford and asked, “How about a kiss?”

“…No. The very idea of you asking that after what you’ve done, after you’ve insulted me is—"

“Wow not even a kiss huh? You made of ice?”

Without warning, Bill took Ford’s hand, and cradling it as if it had impressive value, placed a warm, slow kiss on the back. The rising heat could not go ignored, while the action itself only caused anxiety within Ford. Once Bill’s lips left the skin, he cradled the hand once more. “See you soon, Sixer.” And let go entirely, quickly moving ahead of Ford and opening the door for him. The act, when performed by Bill, seemed incredibly chauvinist.

“Hold up.” Bill said.

“Do me a favour, just one little favour.” The grip on Ford was firm and strong, a grip that didn’t seem possible judging by Bill’s physique but Ford knows now he is more than meets the eyes. “I know you aren’t big on self-satisfaction but the next time, if or when, you touch yourself, just think of me, alright? Even if it’s a split second before, a second after, or a fraction of a second during, just think of me.” Once Bill had finished speaking, the possessive grip left Ford abruptly and he was pushed out the door.

“See you real soon, Sixer.”

 Bill Cipher liked them smart, and Stanford Pines might just be the kind of smart that solves the mystery behind Bill Cipher.

It’s 12am, and Ford should have been asleep exactly one hour ago.

He doesn’t touch himself, but he does think of Bill Cipher.