#i am growing proud of my screeching over fandom so when I know I loved something and didn't leave a comment I get so fucking confused

[mocacheezy]

Being a frequent ramble-commenter on fics is wild.

Looked up a fic I finished reading a year or two ago, and knew I loved it, and yet I was scrolling comments each chapter and grew increasingly distressed going

"I didn't leave a comment?"

*next chapter*

"What do you MEAN, I didn't leave a comment about this scene?"

*next chapter, absent of comment*

"What, this was gold, how did I not leave a comment here?!?!!!”

*next 10 chapters*

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN I DIDN'T LEAVE A COMMENT YET?!?!!!"

*that one chapter*

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN I DID NOT LEAVE A COMMENT HERE, WHAT THE FUCK, WHAT?!?!!!!!”

*last chapter, where I left an essay long comment about all the stuff I liked, and how I read it all in one sitting and couldn't stop to comment at all*

"Oh thank FUCK here it is, it was just that good of a fic"

*proceeds to put it on my reread list so I can enjoy it all over again*

[dire-kumori]

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

👻 What is your wildest headcanon?

📚 Is there a fanfic or fanfic writer you recommend?

Fanfic Writer Ask Game

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

Hmm... Good question XD. You know I am proud of my stories, but I have a hard time picking out individual lines I like best. But here are a few I like from Ever After (since that's the one I'm actively working on):

"The door slammed with the finality of a coffin lid."

(Maybe it's a touch cheesy, but I'm still happy with it.)

"Fredbear’s accusing black eyes bore into him from across the mattress, seeing straight through the lie he'd never voiced."

(This line didn't quite want to work at first and I was so happy when I finally felt like I got it right.)

“EVAN!” Elizabeth screeched, wiping the sand from her face and hair. “YOU GOOBER!”

(I just really had fun writing Ev and Liz being happy, goofy kids and I can actually hear Elizabeth's little girl scream every time I reread that line.)

“JESUS BLOODY FUCK-!”

(I sent this to my friend with limited context. He told me it made him giggle. It still makes me giggle.)

👻 What is your wildest headcanon?

I dunno if I have any 'wild' headcanons. I mean the FNAF fandom is pretty much held together by the popsicle sticks and glue that are crazy headcanons. Mine seem pretty tame by comparison.

A headcanon I do have that I haven't really done much with is that Mike actually has a different mother than the twins (and yeah, I do headcanon Ev and Liz as twins). In my version of events, Will had a drunken one night stand with Mike's mom when he was either still engaged to or newly married to Evan's and Elizabeth's mom. It did cause some tension, but ultimately Will managed to convince his wife to stay with him. However, she made it 100% clear from the get go that she wasn't interested in raising another woman's child. Will said that he was okay with that, but he had the presumptuous idea that she would change her mind because Michael is his son, his DNA, and she loves him so how could she not love his offspring as well? They fought about this expectation a lot and eventually the tension boiled over. William blamed Michael for the marriage dissolving, but since Michael grew up thinking that Will's wife was his mom, he never realized the true reason. Growing up, Michael assumed she left because of his bad behavior as a kid.

📚 Is there a fanfic or fanfic writer you recommend?

@lonelyfreddles

You know what's funny is when I got that first comment from Kats on my fic, I'd already read and loved By Cain's Own Hand, and I had a mini freak out that Kats liked MY writing. Pretty much everything Kats writes breaks my heart in the best possible way.

@cloudwhisper23

Who's written some incredible fics based off of Kats' Silent Protector AU and my Paradoxical Reaper AU. I really love how they adopted those ideas and made them their own!

@honey-bunnysaurus

Okay, so they aren't fanfics, but Honey has written some REALLY cool ideas for the Lonely Children AU which I love to read over and again! I especially love this short snapshot they've written in their reblog of the Lonely Children thread.

YOU!

I'm still vibrating with excitement over those short WIPs you tagged me in and I'll probably pass out from excitement when you post the final product!

I've had a lot of fun coming over to the FNAF fandom. In a short amount of time I've met a lot of really creative and cool people, including a few I haven't mentioned here.

And now for some non-FNAF fic:

@bakumeowkatsuki

My friend Rosi who I met in another fandom. Even though I'm not so active in the BNHA fandom anymore, I still have a soft spot for the crack ship Rosi and I came up with together and the fics they've written for that fic. Rosi does a lot of short and sweet fics and if you're into Ensemble Stars!, Critical Role, or Persona 4, I'd recommend you find them on AO3 (roserosa).

As for some of my favorite fics (not counting those written by the authors above):

Forever A Lost Boy At Last

at least we're together this time!

Dissatisfaction Brought it Back

Encore!

and

Friends, Family, and Frights!

[amydancepants-peralta]

(maybe this time) I’ve hit a home run ⚾️♥️

(a one-shot inspired by @jamy-peraltiago‘s fandom challenge prompts, written in a flash of inspiration!) (x) 

*

“Okay, so run me through this one more time.”

Squinting against the sun; Jake turns towards his girlfriend of nine months, a frisson of joy running through him as he realises how seriously she’s taking the task in front of her.  “Fry first, then gummy worm.”  He demonstrates with a grin.  “Another fry, then dip the whole thing into the sundae, and enjoy.”

Amy shoots him a dubious look, following the instructions carefully and trying her very best not to cringe as she shoves the unnaturally colourful combination into her mouth.  From his position closely beside her, Jake grins, and vaguely he hears the commentator’s voice crackle through the speakers around them. 

Today he and Amy are attending a Mets v Phillies game at Citi Field - Amy’s first live baseball game ever - and once they’d made it to their seats, Jake had been eager to show her the combination of snacks that he has long since considered tradition.  “Amazing, right?”

Licking her lips, Amy reaches out to rest a hand on his leg, squeezing gently.  “Two things,” she begins, and Jake nods.  “First, I love you.  And second, please don’t ever make me eat that again.”

Incredulous, Jake lifts up the Peralta Combo in veneration.  “French fries, sour worms and ice-cream?  That’s the perfect combination of salty and sour and sweet, Ames!  It’s a culinary delight.  How can you not love it?”

Shaking her head, Amy takes a sip of beer to wash the taste away, and Jake leans in to kiss the remnants of froth from her upper lip.  “There is SO much sugar in that, babe.  If you ate a whole tray of that, I’m certain you would be able to hear colour and smell sound.”

“And who wouldn’t want that?!”  Tilting his head to the side, he grins.  “You know, I bet magenta has a real screech to it.”

“Definitely a high vibrato of some sort,” Amy nods, and he bends down for another kiss.  “But probably not something we’re ever meant to hear, you know?”  She winces, adjusting the tip of her baseball cap and craning her neck upwards.  “I’m sorry, babe.  I know it’s your favourite snack, but I don’t think I could stomach more of that.”

“Ames, it’s totally fine.  More for me, anyways.”  Giving a reassuring smile, he lowers his treats to the empty seat beside him and wraps his free arm around Amy’s shoulders.  “And I love you too, by the way.”

(It’s still a little exciting, finally being able to vocalise those three little words, and the way they both returned the sentiment so eagerly makes it all the better, every single time - rolling eyes from surrounding audiences be damned.)

The Phillies fans in the stadium cheer as Eickhoff's swing hits the ball with a heavy crack, and as Amy leans forward to watch the action Jake sneaks a peek at her expression, desperately curious to see if she was enjoying the game or not.  He’d been oddly anxious about today; worried that she wouldn’t feel the same thrum of anticipation amongst the crowd, or - even worse - that she’d find the whole thing ridiculous.  Baseball was something that had been a part of his life since he was old enough to remember, and while he wanted to share it with Amy, the fear of her not enjoying the game was stronger than he’d anticipated.  

But then he’d been waiting at his apartment earlier today, nervous as all hell, when she’d shown up in a newly purchased Mets jersey and sneakers that matched his own.  Stood in his kitchen with a proud smile, spouting out stats on some of his favourite players as he’d finished getting ready (all of which had clearly been recently researched); and he knows that this probably sounds ridiculously schmaltzy, but he swears he fell even more in love with her right there and then.  

Eickhoff stops his run at second base, eyeing off the Mets’ shortstop Cabrera as he lobs the ball back to the pitcher, and Amy joins in on the applause that litters the crowd.  “Shortstop - that’s what you used to play, right?” 

Jake nods, his eyes suddenly trained on a moment a few rows forward; watching as a young boy no older than six shares a joke with his father, meeting his offered high five with obvious glee.  “When I was in little league, yeah,” he mumbles as the nostalgia washes over him.  

There was a time when that would have been him; wearing his team jersey with pride as he ate too many hotdogs, laughing with Roger, riding high on his shoulders as they waded through the crowd on their way home.  When they were watching baseball, there weren’t screaming matches filtering through closed doors, or strange lingerie stuffed in-between carseats for him to ignore on the way to school.  At the stadium, it was just Jake and his Dad - a place where, for nine blissful innings, the rest of the world seemed to simply fade away.  

It had been mid-season and a month after Jake’s seventh birthday when Roger had walked away from it all, and now - much like the tin of baseball cards that Jake had stashed far to the back of a cupboard - the value of his memories are only sentimental (but priceless all the same).

Amy’s knee nudges against his thigh, and Jake’s met with a pair of beautifully gentle eyes when he turns towards her.  Her voice is soft as she asks him if he’s okay, and he adjusts the back of his own cap, running a hand along the base of his neck.  “Yeah, I’m fine.  Just … thinking.”

She nods, twisting in her seat and resting her elbow along the back of his.  “Did you keep playing after Roger left?”

Nodding, Jake leans back into his seat, fiddling with his hat again as the memory of sitting at Sal’s Pizza for hours after the game, just in case Roger might swing by, surfaces from the corner of his mind.  “Just for the rest of the season.  I guess for a while there, I had sorta convinced myself that he would be coming back any day now.  My plan was to just keep doing everything I normally did, so that when he did come back, it would almost feel like he’d never left.”  Amy’s hand falls onto the nape of his neck, sweeping slowly in soothing strokes, and he sighs, relaxing into her touch.  “But as the months went by, and the phone calls grew fewer, the idea of putting the uniform on again just seemed … I don’t know … wrong.”

Letting out a tiny hum of assent, Amy’s fingers card into the bottom of Jake’s hair.  “You still like watching the game, though?”

He nods again, a smile growing onto his face as he explained his mother’s insistence on taking him to games after Roger left.  “She’d never quite gotten a grip on the right terminology, and always cheered for both teams regardless of who was playing; but her enthusiasm was definitely contagious.”  It had worked incredibly well at reigniting the love Jake once had for the game, and over the years he’d branched out and watched matches with college buddies and friends from the academy alike.  

It was unexpected - but also so completely typical of dating someone like Amy - for today to be the day when all of his childhood memories came out in force.  “Sorry, babe.  I’m really dragging the vibe down here.  Maybe we should - mmmh - ” Jake’s last few words die in his mouth as his girlfriend presses her lips against his, the palm of her hand resting against his cheek in a kiss that he only knows as being quintessentially Amy.  

She smiles when they part, brushing away a stray lock of hair from his fringe.  “You don’t ever need to apologise for talking about your past, Jake.  I want to hear all of it, regardless of where we are.  If it matters to you, it matters to me.”

Mumbling another I love you, Jake draws Amy in for a longer kiss, hand wrapping around her waist and pulling away only when the crowd cheers at Herrera’s fly ball.  It was pretty amazing, how talking about memories with Amy rarely felt painful, and on days like today he has the strongest instinct that it’s largely because with her, he can already see his future taking shape.  

Leaning her body into his, Amy’s arm comes to rest comfortably on top of his upper thigh as she turns her attention back to the game in front of them, and softly she murmurs, “This is way better than watching the game in Manny’s living room.”

The sun feels warm against Jake’s skin as he links their fingers together, planting a kiss to the top of her baseball cap in silent agreement.  It was a beautiful day in a lot of ways - the Met’s current lead of 2-0 a fine example - and getting to spend it with Amy made it all the better.  

It’s at the bottom of the third inning that Amy twists away from Jake, rustling through her backpack before returning to her previous position and holding up a bag of nuts with unconstrained pride.  “I thought we might get snacky.”

“You really are the perfect woman.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls you bring here.”

Wrapping his hand around Amy’s wrist, Jake squeezes gently.  “Apart from my mom, and occasionally Gina, you’re the only girl I’ve brought here, Ames.”  It’s a small distinction, but one he feels is important to make, and the soft smile that Amy gives him in return reaffirms his instinct.  

She kisses his cheek, brushing her lips against his skin as she moves to whisper in his ear.  “Keep talking like that Peralta, and you’re going to see some solid third base action tonight.”  Another kiss, this time to the base of his earlobe.  “Maybe even a home run, once you see what I’ve got on underneath this jersey.”

(It’s an entirely new experience, trying to avoid getting an erection in a stadium while your girlfriend chuckles softly beside you - but one that Jake doesn’t totally hate, if only for the knowledge that the wait is going to be completely worth it.)

He’s fully reclined into his seat, one arm wrapped around Amy’s shoulders when the Kiss Cam pans onto them at the top of the fifth inning, breaking into laughter as he watches Amy’s face quickly turn a delightful shade of pink.  He’s still considering a humble peck to her cheek when she swivels in her seat, coiling her hand around his waist and pulling him in for an almost non-PG13 kiss before another moment can be wasted, and as the crowd cheers and Sixpence None The Richer plays in the background, Jake knows that he is totally, utterly and madly in love with the one and only Amy Santiago.    

There’s an oversized foam finger occupying Jake’s right hand, and his girlfriend’s fingers twisted around his left as they leave the field hours later, riding the high of another Met’s victory as they shuffle towards the exit.  He listens contentedly as Amy chatters excitably about the potential for statistical analysis of the game - something about sabermetrics that only makes him think of Star Wars - and it’s as they head towards the carpark that Jake finds himself completely distracted once more.

He watches as a family in front of them move along the footpath, both parents holding onto one hand each of their child as they swing from their parent’s arms, the overjoyed giggles filtering through the noise of a departing crowd as they bounce on and off the pavement.  

It’s the feeling of Amy’s hand in his, and the still unspoken assurance that both of them are in this for the long haul that allows Jake’s mind to wonder of the possibility of such a moment ever belonging to him.  He can almost see it: a chuckling toddler bounding between his and Amy’s arms, wearing their favourite jersey and singing the team song as they head home, just in time for bath and bed and some well-deserved Mommy and Daddy time (aka, falling asleep on the couch).  It’s a future so simplistic, but for the longest time seemed unthinkable, and Jake breaks out into a wide grin at the sheer notion that something so great as a lifetime with Amy could ever be more than just an unrequited dream.  

Amy’s hand squeezes his as they draw nearer to her car, her face growing curious as she looks up at Jake.  “What’s got you so smiley all of the sudden, Peralta?”

Shrugging nonchalantly, Jake hunches slightly to drop a quick kiss to Amy’s lips.  “I’ve just spent an afternoon in the sunshine with a beautiful woman beside me, watching my favourite team win.  There’s a lot of reasons to smile right there, babe.”

Resting her weight against her passenger door, Amy rests her hands on either side of Jake’s waist and looks up at him with an equally happy grin.  “Thank you for taking me here, Jake.  I loved every second of it.”  Lowering her grip slightly, she digs her fingers into his side in a request for closeness; and Jake bridges the gap for another kiss, letting both of them sink into it as the lack of surrounding strangers lends to a sense of privacy.  

The subtle scent of her perfume lingers over his senses as Jake pulls away, held closely still by Amy’s curled fingers around his belt loops, and he leans his forehead against hers.  “What was that you were saying earlier about hitting some bases tonight?”

He chuckles as she pushes him away with a gentle shove, giving him the Santiago wink (also known as a slow blink).  “How about we head back to my place and I show you what I mean, detective?”

The car fills up with laughter and the easy conversations of two best friends in love as Amy navigates them through the streets of Brooklyn - and as they head closer to home, Jake already knows that whatever the future may hold, with Amy by his side, they were going to knock it right out of the park.  

[that-was-anticlimactic]

it’s three am and I should I be asleep but today is the ten year anniversary of Ninjago and I’m just... so so so happy and full of genuine joy. Ninjago is the reason I joined tumblr (even if I’m more atla now, I will always be Ninjago at my core), Ninjago is the reason I began to write as much as I do now, Ninjago helped me realize third person was my writing strong suite. Ninjago is... so much to me. I was there in 2011 when it started and I remember all of the raw emotions I felt watching the show.

Finding out Lloyd was the green ninja. The ninja getting younger and Lloyd growing older. Crying at the season two finale when Lloyd broke his leg and the rest of his team got hit and turned evil. I remember being devestated when Zane died. And being so happy when he came back. I vividly remember being in the car to Dairy Queen when I was in eighth grade when I first found out Cole became a ghost and I remember watching season five in other languages on YouTube just to see what happened.

I remember sitting on my bed crying over The Last Resort. I remember the fandom screaming when Maya and Ray entered the picture and when Lloyd said “Twins look alike”. I remember everyone guessing who Samurai X would be and who the baby was. I remember episode 92 of Ninjago when Harumi died and I remember saying “the resistance never quits” and feeling such power and confidence in myself. I remember crying when Cole fell— not just because he’s my favorite character, but also because Ninjago handled that scene so well. I remember learning the scene when Lloyd finds out Cole fell in asl and rewatching that scene at least twenty times a day. I remember telling my math teacher that episode 98 of Ninjago would be live-streamed during her class (senior year of high school) and that I had to watch it because I have been so mentally distraught about the fall all week and her kids loved the show too so she let me and I actually cried in class when Lloyd “died”.

I remember learning about Ninjago anime through tumblr. I remember screeching when Cole had the nightmares about falling and when Zane was the Ice Emperor. I remember getting so excited when I found out Scott and FugiDove were voiced by Adrian Petriw and that Cole fell once more. I remember season thirteen coming out and crying again because Cole finally has a season and it was so freaking good. I remember learning that Kirby Morrow died on November 19th, 2020.

I remember a family. I remember a passion. I remember the home I never felt like I had. I remember the true potential episodes. “I know who I am”, “you are the best you”, “I’m proud of who I am and I want you to be proud too”, “I knew when I had to make a choice”. I remember “we are so hooped”.

I remember love and heartbreak, tears and joy. I remember that the best way to defeat your enemy is to make them your friend. I remember bequeath. I remember “this isn’t about numbers, it’s about family!”. I remember Jay essentially telling Cole that his feelings for him are stronger than his feelings for his girlfriend. I remember “Chen can try his best to split up our team, but he’s about to find out what happens when we put ourselves back together”. I remember that as iron sharpens iron, brother sharpens brother. I will always remember the iconic “that was anticlimactic” from Kai.

I remember “save me, Jay Walker. There’s gonna be a wedding and I want you to do something about it”. I remember that if you want soenhnjng bad enough, you find a way to make it happen. I remember Day of the Departed and how kind Cole was to Yang, how he regained his mortality and was left with his scar. I remember Cole’s relationship with Wu, how close of a bond they had. I remember getting literal chills from Britt McKillip singing “spider’s in the house, sleep, sleep. Spider bit the mouse, sleep deep. Don’t wake up or else you’ll find a spider in your mouth”. I remember laughing so hard when Cole was singing as Rock Dangerbuff. I remember Jay going mad in the realm of Oni and Dragon. I remember seeing the bones of the Ultra Dragon. I remember being so excited to see the elemental masters (and Darreth) again. I remember “there’s more to life than surviving!”.

I remember being so happy to learn that s11-13 were going to happen. I remember Vex and Akita, Unagami and Scott, The Skull Sorcerer and Vania (the Geckles and Munce). I remember Lilly. I remember.

I remember Ninjago, a show that means more to me than I can fit into words. I remember a silly television show that changed my entire life. I remember characters who brought me joy when no one else could.

So I thank Cole, Kai, Jay, Zane, Lloyd, Nya, Pixal, Skylor, Garmadon, Wu (sometimes— if he’s not hiding stuff😂), Misako, Darreth, Ronin, Pythor, the other Elemental Masters, Cyrus Borg, Dr. Julien, Lou, Ray and Maya, Ed and Edna (I love them), Morro, Harumi, The Overlord, Mystake, Faith, and so many other characters.

Thank you, Kirby Morrow, Vincent Tong, Brent Miller, Michael Adamthwaite, Kelly Metzger, Jillian Michaels, Sam Vincent, Paul / Michael / Brian Dobson, Mark Oliver, Kathleen Barr, Jennifer Hayward, Heather Doerksen, Alan Marriott, Andrew Francis, Ian James Corlett, Britt McKillip, Scott McNeil, Tabitha St Germain, Lee Tockar, and so so so many others.

To Dan and Kevin Hageman, Tommy Andreasen, The Fold: thank you so much.

[dontshootmespence]

Through It All

Part 30

Summary: Now married, Spencer & Y/N navigate the D/s lifestyle. How will their relationship change?

Words: 1,013

Warnings: BABY TIME! That shit is hard.

A/N: Just fluffy stuffs, my friends.

Morgan Diana Reid and Blake Xing Reid enter the world at 7:37 and 7:41 AM respectively. Morgan is five and a half pounds exactly and 18 inches long. Blake is 18 inches and clocks in at just over five pounds. They’re beautiful. Perfect. They have Ai’s full head of hair and Kyle’s nose and mouth.  

Ai is a champion. She had them both naturally (though you still contend there’s nothing natural about a bowling ball popping out of a vagina). Shortly after they were born, she passed out from exhaustion and slept for nearly 13 hours, which meant you and Spencer were thrown into the fire right from the frying pan. Honestly, it all goes by too fast to truly enjoy, but you know you’ll remember those little moments, just watching as Morgan opens her eyes or Blake moves his fingers.

Before you leave the hospital with them after about five days, you allow Ai time alone with them. It breaks your heart to hear her sobbing on the other side of the door.  “Mommy and Daddy couldn’t give you the life you deserve right now, but we’ll always love you.” When you hear that you stifle a choked sob into Spencer’s chest and subsequently promise Ai and Kyle that they’ll always have a place in your family.

And then the insanity begins.

You thought it was hard with Charlotte.

Now there’s two.

TWO.

And Charlotte.

Sleep is non-existent. Maybe an hour at a time at the most. You cry about as often as Morgan and Blake do, which is a whole hell of a lot. Even Spencer breaks every now and then. But they grow so fast. Almost too fast if you’re being honest. Their cheeks get chubbier. They move more. Limbs flying as fast as a cheetah despite being about 30 times as helpless.

Sex? Even more non-existent than sleep.

It’s harder because everything is doubled, but you also have more of an inkling when things go wrong, when they’re sick, when things need to be done. Instead of wondering what each kind of sound means, you know, and you can react accordingly, so you don’t feel as much of a fish out of water as you did last time.

Right now, your fun entails sitting still on the couch with one of the babies on your chest while Spencer sits beside you with the other. Charlotte is taking one of her now rare naps at Spencer’s side. Both of you have to pee but Charlotte, Morgan and Blake are all content and it feels like you’re playing with fire if you dare to move.

Charlotte is the most amazing big sister. She insists they be included in reading time, so when their crying allows, you bring them into Charlotte’s room for storytime at night. She’s even tried to help you change a diaper but ran away when she realized it was stinky. And man are they stinky. Newborn poop is something else. Otherworldly.

During the first three weeks, you shower about five times in total. Your legs are hair as hell. Shaving takes too much time. And even though your weight is pretty stable, you still feel gross. Hygiene takes time and you don’t have it until about a month after they come home.

You’ve managed to get them on a similar schedule so they wake up and go to sleep within a few minutes of each other. Thank the gods Spencer did some research on how to sync up their schedules before they were born otherwise you’d be fucked.

Once they’re down for the night and Charlotte’s been read to (she’s very obsessed with the one about the two princesses that fall in love right now), you sink into bed beside the man you love. “I think we’ve got about two hours before they wake up again,” you say, mouth stretching out into a yawn. “Talk to me before we fall asleep. I feel like we haven’t spoken in 10 years.”

Chuckling, Spencer rubs his hand up and down your arm. “We haven’t even known each other ten years.”

“Feels like forever.”

“Yea, it does,” He sighs happily. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Anything. Just talk to me. Give me stats.”

He pulls you into his lap and combs his hand through your hair. “Luckily, that’s my specialty. Okay, so listen to this-” Even through he can barely keep his eyes open you can hear the excitement in his voice. “Women with a higher body mass index are more likely to conceive twins. Obviously Ai is one of the exceptions. Anyway, higher body fat levels mean higher levels of estrogen which can cause the ovaries to release more than one egg at a time.

“Is that why it’s so hard for women to lose weight too?” You ask, annoyance tinging your sleep-deprived voice. “Like our bodies are holding on to fat because baby making?”

“Exactly. It’s bullshit, I know.”

He continues on, saying something about twins creating their own language, which you hope happens because that would be fascinating to watch. And then he talks about how twins can actually have different fathers, though it’s rare. You want to keep listening, but you drift off to sleep in his arms, only for you both to be rudely awakened by your screeching twins two hours later.

---

A week passes and Charlotte’s terrible twos get a little worse, but you and Spencer realize quickly that it's because she hasn’t been getting enough attention, so you actively try to remedy that.

While Spencer is taking care of the babies’ feeding, you play with Charlotte. She’s getting into playing pretend now, so she’s using two dolls to reenact her two princesses book. You’re merely an audience member, but Charlotte needs to tell the story. As the days go by, you make sure one of you is taking care of the babies while the other handles Charlotte. Again, it feels like you and Spencer don’t speak for ages.

But you got through it once before, right?

It’ll just take time.

@heycasbutt @ultrarebelheart @katherineisagubler @proud-slytherin-ghost @randomwriter23 @fandom-queen67 @sixx-sic-sixx @xqueenofthecraziesx @aofay02 @groovyreid @criesinreid @jdougl-love @xreider @cringeemospntrashassbutt @prettyboyeffect @prettyboyreid @themanip @spencerreidsthings @augustgraceful @whollytaciturn @prisonreid @factualfic @jasmine-negron @snitchthewitch @ellabobella051419 @crazyforsstuff @kaatelyyynn​ @jane-dough @dreatine @bitter-post-millennial @adlerorzel-blog @hallieedrew @psychedelephantt @krisymccall996 @4ueijos @mclaujac @ray-likes-starwars @nurseemilyblog @slightlyvicked @she4567 @guesswhosback129 @princessdolan @happycreatorfangirl @fallwhisper @nyemadowell @sammy-jo1977 @sin-bin-and-tragedies @imsuperawkward @ahhahahaheehee @crispygiantsaladgarden @reputay-swift @pizzarollsfordayz @andiebeaword @timey-wimey-lovi @garbagecanfics @friedparadisetale @dereksbetaa @idontevenknow2 @holyfishloverfarm @nohemi2500 @typeshitbih @sadgirlhan @kmc217 @bigbuttsowhatuniverse @charmedfandomgal @im--blushing @dangerouspersonllamabagel @fichoe21 @yes-sir-hotchner @thefandomallrounder @mrsenos08 @walkerchick007 @letsdisneythings @winchesterqueenie @specialagentleigh @spn-wheresthepie @haileymew @bitchyoulied @geniusgub @urdicksmol @6lack6erry @slutlanna976 @downondilaudid​ @baileysb1tch @la-vie-en-amour1​ @letsdoit-tomorrow @eideticprettyboydrreid​ @lazynoodledragon​ @shybaby231 @aimzonicles97​ @grace-superpowers​ @softestlavender​ @ssa-dr-ladylock​ @drprettyboy​ @patricks-fabulous-face​ @tearosaria​ @shxdowofdarkness​ @marvels-gurl​ @gublergirls​

[carryonmywaywardwriters]

One Day At A Time - Jensen x Reader

A/N: Part Three! If you’d like to be tagged, please sent an ask or message. As always, feedback is incredible. And, I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Widower!Jensen. Grieving process. Age Gap. Character pregnancy. Unrequited feelings. Online personality problems. Guilt. I believe that is all.

Word Count: Roughly 2,700

“Hi, there,” The woman giggled into the mic as Jensen played up the flirty eyebrow bounce and cheesy smile that would be cast over Tumblr within twenty four hours.

He was finished after that final panel, for the trip. Nothing sounded better than a hot shower and catching some sleep. His mind was still reeling from the news he'd been given that morning, but he couldn't focus on that. So, he buried himself behind that charming persona he'd created.

“Dude, leave her alone...she wants me,” Jared smoothed his thick, long, chestnut locks in a way that caused thirsty cries from all around. He cackled as his friend mock frowned his way; unimpressed at the turn of attention. Earning the familiar high pitched laugh from the crowd in front of them.

It was easy to play into their hands. To take the nerves that came with being shy and put it towards acting like a dork with his best friend. He appreciated the disguise more than he'd ever say. Letting it mask the worry and fear he could feel churning inside of him when it was too quiet for long.

“Actually, my question is for Jensen-”

“Ha!” The mentioned man in question leaned forward at the barked utterance, pretending to gloat. Smugly bouncing his brows at Padalecki.

With a deep, regretful sigh, the taller of the two settled back in his chair; wrapping his arms around the back of it as he sat in reverse, “Okay, I guess.” The over dramatically stated words were coupled with a theatrical sulk that drew forth more giggles.

“I was wondering if Y/N and the kids are enjoying the trip to San Diego,” It was no secret that his family had been flocked around him. Until now, that is. The way he paused at that had every eye present turning towards him.

“Uh, actually...” He forced his lips to stay upright. “They're back home, right now.” Concerned 'awes' filled the air. “No, no. It's okay. They're living it up.” Jared turned his gaze back to the man he'd been brothers with for almost two decades. Not buying into the idea that he was really alright with it. “Last time I checked, they were having some kinda dance party. Again.” The way he clenched his teeth relaxed the fans a bit. An over emphasized grimace always seemed to break the mood. “It was wild. There was pink everywhere and a herd of little girls shouting to music.”

“Odette was leading the charge on the one I got,” The taller man joined in, having received his own recording. “Kicked Zeppelin over to my place for an old fashioned dinosaur night with the boys.” More awes filled the air.

“Y/N sent you something? I thought you two still weren't talking after you tried to drown her?” His brow crooked, finding something he could latch onto. Knowing that his friend had delivered that ammo on purpose. He really did love the moose.

“I can explain!” Jared held up his hand towards the 'ooohs,' and then stopped. “No... no, I can't.” His head dipped in false shame, earning another set of rambunctious chuckles.

“I can.” Jensen easily took over. Turning to better face the crowd now that he'd successfully maneuvered around the original question. “This guy tortures my nanny. She's like the female version of Misha to Jared. It's endless.” The mentioned man's lips screwed up as he nodded proudly, accepting the label that was thrown onto you. “So, we were at a cookout over at his place. I'm flipping burgers and relaxing with a beer. You know...like a normal person.” His words only made his friend shrug. Zero shame in sight. “Next thing I know? She's screeching as he full on tosses her into the pool.”

“She called me old!” The roar that followed was deafening. “See? They get it!” He beamed at the response only serving to make Jensen over-exaggerate the roll of his green eyes. “And, it worked. What did she say after?”

“You're a child.” The admission was straightforward.

“Meaning that I'm young, and that she was wrong.” A round of applause made him get to his feet, and bow as the widower shook his head in mock shame. Cracking his own grin.

The mic was lifted back to Jensen's lips, “Dude...you started a war because she told the truth?” He knew what had been said, but the crowd was eating it up. Keeping him safe for a little while longer.

“That hurts...” A pat to the heart was thrown in. “That hurts me right there.”

“The kids all joined in. It was chaos.” Ackles explained the previous comment to the women, with a few men scattered here and there. “My kids and Y/N versus his herd and him. We needed an ark to get to the tables. They soaked everything.” His hand panned across the people in front of him, emphasizing how far the damage had spread. “Everything. Gen thought they were going to kill each other.” Jared cackled. Remembering the look on his wife's face. “Y'all know how we had to stop pranking each other, right? 'Cause it was so deadly? That's what they should be doing. Instead, she's become this...epic battle partner. I'm thinking they'll start the next apocalypse before this is over.” A proud nod confirmed it. Jared wouldn't give in until the world ended. Or, he had to go back to work. Whichever happened first.

“Do you prank Y/N?” Someone shouted, catching his attention.

“Do I... Do I prank her? Are you kidding? Do I look stupid?” More laughs filled the air as he shuddered something fierce. “Misha? Absolutely. He doesn't fight back.” His fingers tacked off each point. “He doesn't live in my house. Doesn't hang out with my kids. I like not having to worry about her sicking my spawn on me in retaliation. They'd do it in a heart beat, too.” And most importantly, it kept the professional barriers somewhat in place. “Yeah, no, Y/N and I don't....we're not...” Weren't anything other than co-parents, employer and employee, and almost friends in an odd sort of way. How's that for complicated?

“As fun as I am,” Jared finished, saving him, again. Hoping that the fans wouldn't take that last statement as he had started to. He covered his own look of interest before diving back into the panel. “Now, that we went way off topic....who's next?”

–

“How did the 'mom' thing even start?” You asked in confusion, scrolling through your Instagram notifications. Your feet thrown over the back of the couch as you sprawled. Making yourself quite at home in the Ackles house. The selfie you'd posted while cleaning the damage the girls had caused was packed.

Not that you weren't used to it by that stage. The moment Danneel had tagged you in a post, it had been over. You'd been stalked and fawned over by some. When she passed? You'd been flocked for updates about the Ackles family.

It had taken a year for you to gather the courage to begin posting again. Once you did? The fandom clung to you for offering small pieces of what life was like inside the Ackles' household. Needing to have that sense of closeness to the supernatural family, still, even with a member gone.

The simple image of you with Oscar resting his head on your lap as you sorted the makeup away had garnered the usual 'queen', 'mom', and 'I love yous' mixed with the occasional trash talker. Once Jensen had commented saying he wanted his dog back when he got home? It had grown worse. When you told him that he'd have to fight you for the golden doodle? The post had blown up. The fans demanding to know if you and him had something going on.

Apparently his panel had only cemented the idea, somehow. You hadn't watched it. Leaving you to only wonder what he'd said to garner that response. Sure it had simply been taken out of context.

You scrolled on, determined to find some answers. A few flicks of your fingers and fate intervened. The phone slipped to your face. Making you wince all the while. As if life had directly told you that social media was bad for your health.

With a sigh, you tossed your phone to the couch. Trying to not let the extreme Danneel and Jensen fans get under your skin. Too many 'you'll never be her' comments filled your mind. More than enough 'stop trying to take her place' had you questioning where you stood. You were doing everything you could to get what was needed done while not dancing on your deceased friend's toes.

Did the world really not understand? Were you really any better off than they suggested? The small crush said you weren't.

“No idea,” Genevieve stated seriously, walking towards the grey couch you were occupying with a pile of healthy snacks loaded up. Pulling you from the internal struggle. She'd been extra conscious of what she was putting into her body since she'd discovered the newest pregnancy. “I just kinda...roll with it.”

She and the kiddos were bunking with you. Tag teaming was so much simpler when the baby exhaustion hit. And it gave the both of you some grownup time together when the men were away.

“It's so strange,” You picked up one of the grapes with your fingers before plopping it in your mouth. Giving up on trying to understand the fact that you'd become an icon of sorts- and the ramifications- for simply nannying some, albeit great, kids.

At your friend's next words, you choked, “So...what's the deal with you and Jensen?”

“It's the same as its always been,” Came the broken words as you got back a hold of yourself. Brushing it off. “Why?”

“Just curious,” That wasn't it. The cool, actress's poker face she wore said as much. But, you were too sensitive to call her out on it, just then. Luckily, she changed gears. “I can't believe that this is it...The last season is being filmed this year.”

The CW had finally pulled the plug on the Winchesters once it had hit adulthood. The boys had found out in a meeting that morning. They'd known it was coming. Had even agreed to it. And yet? Hearing the finality of it? Was another nail in the coffin.

“Eighteen seasons...It's crazy.” Your hand ran through your hair as you looked at the old episode on screen. Sister Jo stood off against Michael!Dean. The tension in the scene was palpable. It didn't hurt to watch it, anymore. Instead, you focused on the fact that she'd been doing what she loved with the man she'd been head over heels for. “How's Jared holding up?”

“He's zeroed in on the kids. Telling himself that it's going to be good for us in the end.” Her hand rubbed over her still flat stomach. “But, he's definitely feeling it. He's been Sam for so long... Saying goodbye is hard.”

“That it is,” You agreed, frowning at the screen. Wondering how Jensen was taking the day.

He hadn't said a thing to you when he'd checked in. Simply had asked for an update on the household before he crashed. Dean had become his crutch. Without the Winchester in his life, you weren't quite sure what he'd do with himself.

Ackles had a passion for directing and acting. There was no doubt about it. But, Supernatural had become everything when his life had turned upside down. It had given him the consistency he'd needed to get through. And while things had been okay for a time? It would be just another major thing he was losing.

Your socked foot rubbed over the soft fur of Icarus. The cockapoo was up there in age. He'd been diagnosed with congestive heart failure at sixteen years old. The white, fifteen pounds of floof didn't let it deter him, though. A couple of pills a day kept him comfortable and loved for as long as he could be. But, it had gotten under Jensen's skin, too.

It made your stomach churn to think about how fast the negative could pile up on already weakened shoulders. And yet, he wanted you to step back. Having time away from him had cleared your head. Allowed you to see his side of things. Maybe it was time to give him some room to breathe. To let him process everything on his own. After all, you were just the nanny...

–

“Dad!” Three voices shouted in unison when the door opened. Ditching their place at the table as Jensen stumbled in with a wide smile on his face. Each kid got a big hug, and a kiss on the cheek.

When they tried to talk over each other, he slowed them down, gently with a, “One at a time.” And, miraculously? It worked. He was informed of everything he'd already had reported to him. Only this time? In child perspective. Which made it dramatic. Completely over the top. Just the way he liked it.

A nod your way was all you received as you slipped past the scene; lifting his bag for him so that no one tripped over it. Including the bumbling dog that was trying to get a kiss in, himself. Oscar had missed his human while he'd been gone.

The dog had been with Danneel's brother during her last pregnancy. She'd been too sick to handle the energetic buffoon while Jensen had been away, filming the show. Gino had fallen in love with the pup. Keeping him...until he thought Jensen needed him more. Returning him back to the Ackles' home solemnly. Oscar had, once again, latched back onto the head of the house with a fierce loyalty that most wouldn't expect from a fluffed up mixed breed. The affection was mutual. Jensen's hand stilled the squirming beast with a simple pet to the top of his curled head as you left the chaos.

Jensen's room was clean. A feat that wouldn't last long once he started unpacking. Bed made up, clothes lined nice and neat, with just a hint of his cologne still lingering in the air from before he'd left. You dropped the duffle on the mattress and turned away. Only to catch sight of the image beside his pillow. It held the dogs, his wife, and the kids all surrounding him. Everything he loved in one picture. His family.

Slowly, you slid the door shut and returned back to the reunion, “Dinner's ready if you're hungry.” You smiled softly at the way he ensured each kid knew that they were loved before climbing back up to his feet. Lumbering after you to get the food while it was still hot.

“Spaghetti,” The actor rumbled in excitement, sniffing the air as he approached the table. His lips smacked hungrily. He was a sucker for a pasta with a good meat sauce. “The wardrobe ladies are gonna be mad at me, later, but I'm piling it up.” He hadn't exaggerated. The flight had left him hungry. “God, this is good.” Came the Dean-like groan as he chowed down. Forgetting that he didn't have to eat like a man who had lived off of nothing more than pizza and beer.

“Dad!” The tiny, disapproving tone left J.J with ease. “You're not supposed to talk with your mouth full.”

He gulped down the food, and smiled sheepishly, “Sorry, J-bird.”

“It's okay. Just try to remember,” The words were so Danneel that you couldn't help but to smile gently at them. She was going to be trouble as she continued to age. But, you had faith she'd be pretty great in the end. Hell, they all would if the night was any indication.

If he was upset about the show ending, he didn't show it. Even after the kids retired for the night and he helped clean up, he didn't say a word. The only thing you got was a pat on the back and a low “goodnight” that made your skin prickle before you returned your own.

Part Four

ODAAT: @winchester-ofthe-lord​​ @smoothdogsgirl​ @ima-be-a-mongoose​ @briagallen​

Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278​​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​​

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon​​ @supernaturalginger​​ @lilulo-12​​​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​ @malfoysqueen14​​​  @michealneedssomemilk

[onthesandsofdreams]

Prom Night

Fandom: ASOIAF Pairing: SanSan Rating: T Summary:  Truth be told, she had been hopeful that Sandor would ask her to prom. Words: 1728 Notes: For my pal @hisyetisgirl, who always leaves such lovely comments on my fics. Thank you!

Read @ AO3 

Sansa had to swallow down her disappointment.

Prom was coming up and she had not been invited, also, it was themed after one of her favorite stories: Jenny and Duncan. She knew that since her break-up with Joff, she was all but a social pariah, only few of her friends remained, Jeyne, Mya and Myranda had stood by her side when she broke things with Joff. It had hurt when Margaery had began dating him almost immediately and began to ignore her.

Theon and Jon had offered to take her, but she knew that Jeyne liked Theon and Jon liked Daenerys and she could not accept their offers, she thanked them and pushed them to ask the girls they liked. “Don’t worry about me, you both boy should ask them.” She told them.

Truth be told, she had been hopeful that Sandor would ask her to prom.

Sandor Clegane had been a not-so-recent addition to her friends. She had known him, of course, he used to be around Joff a lot, but after Joff began to mistreat her, Sandor had surprised her by taking her side and basically becoming her body guard. At the beginning, Sandor gave the impression that he didn’t like her, he was rough around the edges, brutally honest, with a short temper for idiots (which made her wonder why he was even friends with Joff). That, combined with his height, his scars and body type, screamed ‘Don’t mess with me’, he had intimidated her at first. But once she had gotten to know him, she found him to be good. He was far from perfect, but he was protective without being suffocating, he was brave and strong, he encouraged her to see people for who they were and not for who they pretended to be.

Sandor had also spoken to her about his scars, her heart had broken when she had found the truth. Sandor had smiled at her anger, thanked her for being the only one to validate his pain. From that moment on, they had been nearly inseparable.

Another thing that she liked is, that with her encouragement, Sandor had began to take anger management and therapy. And he had improved by leaps and bounds, he spoke often and highly of a man who went by ‘Elder brother’, who was his therapist. She was proud of him.

And somewhere along the line, she realized she had fallen for him. She realized it when she found herself comparing other boys to him, only to find them lacking. She had dreamt about kissing him, she found herself wanting to hold his hand.

But Sandor had never made a pass to her, and she was much to shy do to so herself. Even with Myranda’s encouragement, she couldn’t do it, her tongue would fail her, she would be a stuttering mess and she just couldn’t ask him.

She sighed, prom was two week away and she had – quite hopeful and foolishly – bought a dress for it. It was ice blue, her mother had said that it brought her coloring well, Arya had approved and Jeyne had squealed, “You’ll be the prettiest!”

But now, she had a dress but no date.

She was sighed tiredly, she had really been looking forward prom and dancing alongside her friends. But it all seemed to say that she would’ve to find something to do as consolation prize. She let herself fall on the bed, groaned out loud and looked around dejectedly, she was about to grab a book to try and distract herself when her phone rang.

She grabbed it and saw that it was Sandor, her heart did a little flip. “Hey, Sandor!” She chirped, no sense in letting him know she was upset. Knowing him, he would ask her out of guilt. She didn’t want that.

“Hey Sansa, I have a question.” Sandor sounded worried.

“Ask away.”

“What color should I get my tux.”

That broke her heart a little, it would seem that Sandor was going to go to prom with someone else. That hurt. “Ah,” she tried to sound nonchalant. “Why?”

“Well, because we should match, shouldn’t we?”

Sansa could almost see him frown, she also did, “I don’t understand, why should we match?”

“We’re going to prom, yes?”

Sansa’s mind came to a screeching halt. “Um,” she was able to get out. “No, we’re not.”

Silence. “Oh. Fuck.” Leave it to Sandor to curse. “Fuck, Little bird… did I not ask you?”

“No?”

“Oh fucking fuck,” Sandor groaned at the phone. “Little bird, I am so sorry! I thought I had! Fuck I’m an idiot.”

Sansa’s heart skipped a beat. He wanted to ask her! She didn’t know what to say to that, she wanted to giggle out of happiness and relief, she wasn’t taking anyone else! “You wanted to ask me?” She managed, her hands got a bit clammy and she did her best to control her voice.

“Yeah,” she could clearly see him scratching the back of his head. “I just didn’t want to put any pressure on you, and well, the test got the best of me and I guess I forgot. But, ah, Sansa… I know we’re two weeks out, but, wanna go to prom with me?”

Sansa felt giddy and happy, “Of course! I’d love to go to prom with you!”

“Oh that’s a relief,” Sandor said. “But wait, can you get a dress so close? I mean, I know I fucked up and I’m giving you very little time, but if you can’t… well, we could go and catch a movie or something.”

Sansa was moved, it was so kind of him. “I have a dress, don’t worry about it. Just get your tux, I think you’d look quite dashing in either gray or blue.”

“Grey or blue? Got it. Well, Sansa, gotta go, need to finish an essay. See you at school, and thanks for putting up with my dumbass.”

Sansa laughed, “Thank you for asking me, see you at school.”

They both hanged and Sansa all but jumped up and down her bed, she was excited and happy. Now she could only hope to find someone to do her hair and make-up, she wanted to be the prettiest Sandor had ever seen her.

***

The next morning, she told her mother about it, fortunately, Catelyn knew a woman who could do both her hair and make-up. “I am glad you’re going,” Catelyn told her smiling. “It was disheartening seeing you be upset for missing prom.”

Sansa hugged her mother. “Well, I’m going and I’m going to have fun!”

“That’s my girl,” Catelyn said and squeezed her tightly.

The days that followed passed in a flurry of activity, schoolwork and her volunteering kept her busy. She had already selected hair and make-up, she had her accessories ready and she was growing ever more excited for prom.

The day of it, she could barely believe that it was finally happening. By the time she was done, she felt like a princess, she had chosen a braided updo that left some thin strands of hair to fall around her hair, her make-up was done in soft shades of pink. Her blue dress fit her perfectly and picked her accessories in silver. She allowed her mother to fuzz over her and take pictures.

When Sandor came to pick her up, he looked quite dashing in a dark blue tux and he had gotten her a corsage. It was a beautiful little thing, white baby roses and baby’s breath, he placed it gently on her hand. “You look beautiful,” he’d told her when they had seen each other.

“And you look quite dashing,” She beamed at him. She relished in the matching smile that Sandor gave her. “I’m excited!”

Her mother had insisted on a couple of photos, neither minded and simply stood still side by side as her mother took them. “Have fun, don’t drink and drive.” That had been her father’s parting words.

Sandor had opened the door of his car for her, only closing it after she had been safely in. He walked to the driver’s seat and climbed on. “Ready?”

“Yes! Let’s go!”

Sandor laughed at her enthusiasm, but started the car and drove them to the hotel were their reception was taking place. Once they were there, he opened her door and offered his arm, she took it smiling and together, they made their way inside.

She gaped at the ballroom, it was all decorated in different shades of green and silver. They found their sitting place and chatted with the people around them, but they only seemed to have eyes for each other.

They chatted while they had their dinner, and once the dance floor was officially opened, Sandor stood and offered his hand and they began to dance.

“I didn’t take you for a dancer,” she admitted.

Sandor shrugged, “I’m not much of it, but that’s the point of today, right, to dance?”

“True.”

And dance they did, only taking breaks when she felt tired or needed punch or a bathroom break. They danced the night away, and just before the night came to a close, the last song was a slow ballad. And they both still dance, her arms around his middle (damn his height!) while they swayed gently to the sound of music.

“Thank you.” She told him.

“What for?”

“For bring me. I wanted to come, but no one asked.”

“That’s because they’re idiots, Little bird. Myself included. I’m just, well, honored that you accepted.”

She looked up, her heart was beating fast and loud. Finding either courage or stupidity, she pushed herself up and gave him a quick kiss at the corner of his mouth, blushing fiercely immediately after. “If you’re an idiot, then, you’re my idiot.”

Sandor looked at her with wide eyes, but then he shook his head, grinned and said, “Yep, I’m your idiot.” And he lowered himself enough to give her a quick kiss to her lips.

She beamed and returned it. “I like you, you know?”

Sandor seemed to catch her meaning, “Well, I like you too.”

Under the soft lights and with gentle music, they both grinned and once more kissed. No matter what happened tomorrow, they would always have this night. But somehow she knew, that something special had been born this night.

[amandaoftherosemire]

Bulletproof -- Part Twelve

Fandom: Marvel/College AU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader, Platonic!Steve Rogers x Reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Gamora, Peter Quill

Author: @amandaoftherosemire​

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 6,383

Format: Series (Complete)

Warnings: Language, angst, fluff

Summary: Bucky goes to Steve for advice. You go out of your way to get Bucky alone.

A/N: Here it is, folks! So many of you have asked for it, and I’ve loved every single scream of agony as y’all did so. But it’s finally here: the chapter where people actually talk to one another!

Banner by @hellzzzbelle

Part Eleven here

Part Twelve

Bucky locked your apartment door behind him on his way back to his own and immediately regretted it. He swore, viciously, under his breath on his way down the hallway to his door, wishing he'd turned around and woken you up to deal with all of this once and for all. He cursed himself for a coward as he unlocked his own door.

He didn't know what to do. He wanted to push, to make you listen to how he felt and tell him how you felt. The only thing stopping him was the knowledge of what you'd done when Thor had confessed to deeper feelings than an FWB should admit. Should he force you to deal with the fact that he was in love with you, he was far from sure you'd respond with anything more than kindness.

Especially now that he'd realized how far he'd truly fallen in your estimation. It wasn't only that you thought him merely promiscuous or unreliable, but you'd come to associate him with the very thing that had been used in an attempt to incapacitate and violate you. You'd left only his name on a bottle of the substance that had almost destroyed you. Whether you'd thought that deeply about it or not, he couldn't stop, and he was making himself sick to his stomach.

Which is why, when he saw the light on in Steve's studio, his first thought was relief that he didn’t have to be alone. He could talk to Steve, tell him what had happened and ask for help. Bucky assured himself that he didn't have to talk about being in love with you to get his best friend's input and advice on how to fix what he’d done. Moving on instinct, he didn't think twice about walking in with only a perfunctory knock.

Steve had deliberately stayed home to finish his big project so he could ask Peggy out for Saturday night guilt-free. Since he knew Bucky would be out until all hours and would most likely collapse straight into bed, if he came home at all, Steve had devoted the entire evening to a final big push. Which meant he had everything out as he put the finishing touches on all four works, and he hadn't bothered to lock the door.

"Steve, do you got a min--" Bucky came to a screeching halt at the sight of his best friend surrounded by sketches, drawings, paintings, all of you and all in varying states of undress.

"Shit." Steve was already turning around, but not in time to avoid Bucky's fist in his face. He twisted in desperation, grabbing Bucky as he went and tumbling to the floor to avoid damaging the canvas he'd been working on at his friend's inopportune entrance.

The two of them rolled over the floor in a tangle of limbs as Steve tried to defend himself without harming his friend or knocking over any of the paintings. By the time they came to a stop with Bucky crouched over Steve, his metal fist in the blond's shirt, his other hand shoving a sketch of you laughing naked in a bed of clover in Steve's face, they'd managed to scatter paper everywhere.

"If the next words out of your mouth aren't 'she knows about this,'" Bucky growled, "I'll do more than bloody your nose."

The sheer insult that took over Steve's face had Bucky's hand loosening before he'd even responded. "Of fucking course she knows!" The shiver of relief that ran down Bucky's spine was in sharp contrast to his breaking heart and pure confusion, especially when Steve dropped his head to the floor with a thud. "But no one else is supposed to. She's gonna be so pissed at me."

Bucky pushed himself backward until he was sitting on the floor, one leg stretched out and the other bent at the knee for him to brace a forearm. He stared as Steve scrambled to his feet to check the canvas he’d been working on with worried eyes.

“Why?” Bucky asked, not sure what to say but desperate for any kind of explanation as to why there were a thousand images of you staring at him. Without context, Steve looked like the unhealthiest of stalkers.

Steve wasn’t paying attention, too worried about his painting to hear the layers to the question. “She nagged me to lock the door and I told her to shut up,” he answered absently. When he was satisfied the mermaid was unharmed, he stepped back and crossed his arms with a sigh. “She's never going to let me hear the end of it.”

Bucky was standing at this point, staring at a completed drawing in pastels of you in a golden gown that barely veiled the glory of your body, your face drawn into proud disdain. He'd seen that look before. Usually when you were about to say something cruel or cutting to him. "She's your model." Bucky was smiling a little when he turned to meet Steve's eyes, and so was shocked to see horror there. The next thing he knew, Steve was bundling him out of the room in no uncertain terms.

"Ah, come on, punk." Once out in the hallway, Bucky tried a cajoling tone and a wide grin. "Let me see the rest."

Steve planted himself in front of the door with a scowl and crossed arms. "No. No one can see them until she does, jerk."

Bucky glared at Steve for a moment, who glared defiantly back. He thought about needling Steve some more, but ultimately conceded, too familiar with his friend's stubbornness. Bucky figured if he couldn't make Steve do anything when he outweighed him by a hundred pounds, how in the world could he manage it now? Instead of pushing it any further, he faked toward the door, then laughingly let Steve push him down the hall.

"So that’s why she’s in our apartment in her robe all the damn time," he said smiling, but with an accusatory finger as he flopped onto the couch, splaying out to get comfortable as he teased his best friend. He was so relieved to finally have an answer to your and Steve's weird behavior, he could almost forget about what you'd said that night.

Steve dropped into the recliner next to the couch and raised a brow at Bucky. He could see the distress under the cheerful teasing and wondered what had finally brought his friend to him, grateful for it even if it meant he’d have to face your wrath for not being more careful. "How do you know that?" Steve accused. "You're supposed to be in class."

Bucky snorted. "And I've never skipped class, ever." He didn't know how to keep going, to ask the questions he needed to ask, to confess the things preying on his mind. He opened his mouth, but nothing sprung immediately to mind.

Taking pity on him, Steve only let him sit there with his mouth open for a couple of seconds before rescuing him. "So," he asked, genuinely curious as to what had sent Bucky bursting into his studio at nearly two AM after a frat party. "What did you need?"

"Shit. Nothing important." Bucky's courage completely failed him, unsure what it meant that you were Steve's model and not sure, now that he was faced with it, how to talk to Steve about what was bothering him without giving away how he felt about you. He threw his arm over his eyes, trying to give off the impression of someone who had nothing more on his mind than a nap after a long night.

Which is why he didn't see the eye roll that would have warned him that Steve was about to lose his patience. "Come on!" Steve cried, exasperated, causing Bucky to sit up and stare at him. "What is going on with you? Why don't you just talk to me about y/n already?"

Bucky could tell by the question and its tone that Steve had already guessed plenty, probably knew way more than he'd given him credit for. Bucky could also tell by the hurt on his face that he genuinely didn't understand why Bucky wouldn't talk to him about it.

He heard himself say, "Y/N got happy drunk and chatty and said a bunch of shit I didn’t want to hear." He sat forward, rubbing his hands over his face as he finally confessed, to a degree, giving Steve the gist of the conversation surrounding your Bottle of Poison without hinting at anything regarding the physical change in your relationship.

"She's not even mad about it anymore," Bucky finished, "but I can't stop beating myself up over it."

"Did she explain the bottle at all?" Steve frowned on the outside, but a part of him relaxed at the first honest answer he'd gotten out of Bucky about how he felt in months. Though he hadn't realized it, a part of him had been growing steadily darker and sadder the longer his friend shut him out.

Bucky took heart at the fact that Steve sounded genuinely surprised. Though your opinion of him may have soured, perhaps Steve hadn't thought so badly of him. "I would have helped you kick the shit out of Brock if I'd known why you were doing it, Steve."

"I was pissed at you," Steve admitted as he sat forward with a shrug and a smile, "and though I'm not pissed anymore, I wouldn't change it." He looked back fondly and wondered what would have happened if he'd zigged instead of zagged. He would always think of the pretty redhead as the one that got away. "Natasha had my back there. I don't know that Nat and I would be the kind of friends we are without that fight."

Bucky tilted his head and wondered at the story in Steve's eyes, but the answer made him feel better. His friend didn't hate him for all of his mistakes. "I was selfish, and I hurt y/n because of it." He reached out and grasped Steve's shoulder, his eyes blazing as he went on. "But I don't think I realized how much I fucked up a lot of other relationships by doing it. I'm sorry."

Steve smiled sweetly, happy to already see the beginning of mended fences. "You're fixing it," he replied, and his face turned teasing with the next words out of his mouth, "and you've been doing a good job, considering how happy she's been lately."

Bucky let go of Steve's shoulder as his cheeks flamed, thinking about the hand he'd had to clap over your mouth to muffle the moans spilling out as he fucked you from behind in a closet during a party. He didn't know if that counted as "fixing it" or a "good job" but he could not and would not deny it seemed to make you happy.

To cover, he went on to explain what had set him off that night, sobering quickly as he thought about the things you’d said. "I carried her home tonight, dropped her off in her bed, and as I'm leaving, I spot the Bottle of Poison." He flopped back in frustration; now that he was talking to Steve, he wasn't able to stop. "I ask her about it, she drops that whole bombshell on me, then rolls over and goes to sleep. What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?"

Steve, by now, was grinning at Bucky in sheer delight, both because he was happy to have his friend opening up to him again and because he'd always known you'd drive Bucky happily mad. "Yep," he replied and leaned back, his hands behind his head, "she's an asshole."

Bucky scowled at the other man without lifting his head from the arm of the couch where he lay sprawled, not entirely certain how to take the fact that Steve sounded like a loving but exasperated brother. "The point is she thinks I’m poison, Steve." Bucky sighed sadly, making Steve’s lips twitch in amusement until he continued. "How do I argue when you were here saving her life while I was off screwing some girl whose name I remember only because I lost y/n over her?"

The grin had faded from Steve's face to be replaced with a soft smile, one rich with compassion. Bucky had made mistakes, but Steve could easily see he felt bad, wanted to learn from them, make up for them. It made it easy to give his friend a hand. "Well," he said thoughtfully, "she never wrote the word Bucky on that bottle, so that's something to think about."

Steve's warmly teasing tone had Bucky's head lifting to see the kindness on his friend's face. Once their eyes met, Steve was going on. "She doesn't think you're poison, Buck. Maybe she did, at one point, but she would never have gotten drunk and let you take care of her if she still didn't trust you."

"Why didn't you guys ever get together?" Bucky couldn't believe he'd finally asked the question he'd had burning in his brain for what felt like forever, but now that it was out, he held his breath waiting for the answer.

'Steve.' He'd finally gotten up the courage to press his lips to yours and he couldn't make himself do anything. Your lips were soft and sweet, but he couldn't kiss you for real, nor could he answer the wry sound of his name coming out of the corner of your mouth. 'Steve, are you gonna kiss me or…?'

'I am kissing you. Shut up.' His gruff retort had you beginning to giggle, forcing Steve to settle his lips more firmly against yours.

'Oh god.' You'd pulled away to snort gleefully up at him. The two of you were sitting on his bed, awkwardly giving making out a try. 'You don't normally kiss like this, do you?'

'No.' Steve sounded insulted, which only had you giggling harder. He shook his head and scowled at you. 'Dammit, will you shut up?' With that, he grabbed your face in his hands and held his mouth to yours, just trying to get you to stop talking or snorting or--

'This isn't kissing, Steve. This is resting your lips against mine. This sucks.'

Steve couldn't take it anymore. He pushed you away from him with a sigh of exasperated frustration. You fell backward, giggling, and Steve wondered why he put up with your ridiculous ass when you wouldn't take anything seriously. 'You are just the worst, you know that, right?' he sneered down at you.

'It's not my fault!' You cried out in mock outrage, still helplessly trying to stifle the giggles, your hand over your heart and your eyes narrowed. 'You're being weird!'

'You're weird!' Steve had cried back. The bickering the two of you had devolved into from there ruined any further experimentation, either that day or any other.

Steve snorted at the memory, then laughed out, his face crinkling sweetly. The awkward frustration, the exasperation with you, the amusement at the ridiculousness of it rang out in that genuine laugh. He didn't even know how to describe it, so he simply said, "It just didn't work out. We were always gonna be better friends than anything more."

"I find that hard to believe." Bucky's eyes were narrowed, but despite his words and expression, he was starting to believe it. Steve's laugh had begun to convince him.

Steve snorted again. "That's because you don't seem to think she's an asshole." He lifted a brow at a scowling Bucky. "She is. But for some reason, you don't notice." The wry tone Steve with which infused the words for some reason had Bucky blushing.

His heart in his throat, he asked the question point blank. "You're seriously telling me you're not in love with her?" Bucky knew Steve's answer could change everything for him, but he couldn't spend another moment not knowing for certain.

Steve's answer had Bucky's heart clenching in despair. "I love her." Steve shone with it, beautiful and pure. "With all my heart. But I'm seriously telling you I'm not in love with her." The expression on Steve's face melted into sly amusement at the misery all over Bucky shifting swiftly to joy. "I doubt you can do the same."

"Steve," Bucky sighed, with a relieved grin, "I'm stupid in love with that girl."

The light streaming through a crack in the blinds directly into your eyes woke you at around 10:30 the next morning. You opened your eyes into that piercing ray of sunshine and felt like you were being stabbed in the brain. You’d done a decent job of staying hydrated the night before, so you’d escaped most of the nausea, but light was your enemy, making your head pound like a drum.

You hissed and slammed your eyes shut in response to the light, rolling over to bury your head under the covers. You vaguely remembered chattering at Bucky about all sorts of embarrassing things, but you also remembered his happy answers. You may have gushed and fawned all over him, but he had been just as sweet and adoring to you.

Something worrisome snickered at the back of your mind, however, reminding you that the conversation hadn’t stopped at sweet nothings. You carefully lifted the blanket to peer at your desk, not entirely certain you hadn’t dreamt the last part but hoping desperately that you had.

Your hopes were dashed as soon as you saw your Bottle of Poison out of its place. You definitely remembered telling Bucky what it was, but you remembered nothing of an explanation as to why it had his name on it. You were terrified that you’d done irreparable damage last night by simply not telling the whole story.

With a groan of frustration and pained disgust, you threw the covers back, grossed out by the smell of smoke and beer that emanated from you and now your sheets thanks to sleeping in the clothes you’d partied in. You made yourself get up and strip the bed; you absolutely had to change the sheets. As soon as that was done, you shimmied out of your dress, letting it fall to the floor with an unexpected thunk.

Realizing you’d slept with your phone in your pocket, you pulled it out and remembered the video Natasha had sent you. Your stomach sinking a little in dread at the admonition to watch to the end and to contact her with any questions, you pressed play.

As soon as you saw the video was recorded in a laundry room, presumably the one in Quill’s frat house, you knew the identity of the man with his mouth on someone other than you. Though it was awkwardly framed, obviously being taken surreptitiously, the video was remarkably clear. In that first second, your heart shattered all over again and you knew you’d gone back on all the promises you’d made yourself.

You’d told yourself you were bulletproof, that you could take Bucky on without fear. You told yourself that you could play with him, enjoy him, and walk away relatively unscathed as long as you remembered that Bucky was for fun, not for keeps. You’d lied to yourself, and because you’d wanted to believe it, you had.

But you’d been vulnerable from the first moment you let yourself care. Bucky was your weakness, always had been. You simply loved him too damn much.

In the next second, you were remembering your promise not to shut him out and your determination, because of that promise, to keep things between you casual and undefined. No matter how it hurt you, no matter what he'd done, you could not walk away. You were seriously considering punching him in the face, however. Or the dick.

The next second, you were seeing Bucky yank the woman away from him and the expression on his face was most definitely not happy or aroused. You knew what Bucky looked like when he was an eager participant; this wasn't it. Then your heart was soaring as you heard muffled words like “no means no” and “not interested.”

By the time the video was over, you were laying on your bare mattress, your phone pressed to your chest as you stared with starry eyes at the ceiling. Then you watched it twice more, obsessed with the phrase “involved with someone.”

Because you'd promised Bucky that you would stay his friend no matter what, you'd refused to put any labels on whatever was happening between you. You were operating from the logic that he couldn't cheat on you if you weren't his girlfriend. Even should the worst happen, you could find it in your heart to forgive him as long as he wasn't technically unfaithful.

Examining how you'd felt in those brief few moments when you'd thought the worst had happened and he'd technically-not-cheated on you, it was crystal clear that you’d broken every promise to yourself,  every rule you'd laid down for dealing with Bucky. You'd known you were going to get hurt, but you'd hoped being logical would prevent the worst of the heartbreak. You knew now you'd been hopelessly naïve, that you could no more prevent Bucky from breaking your heart than you could stop time. At this point, you’d given him all the power; whether you liked it or not he held your heart in his hands.

You didn't know when it had happened, but you'd apparently begun to trust him again, believe in him again. Those brief moments when you'd thought you were witnessing Bucky betray you had been shocking, a complete and utter surprise. That shock told you more than anything else about how much faith you'd already placed in him. You'd questioned whether you could trust Bucky again, but your heart had evidently already made the decision for you.

You also examined how you felt upon watching the rest of the video, the part where he lived up to the trust you'd begun to place in him. Going from shattered to elated so quickly gave you whiplash, but also forced you to confront how deep you'd already fallen, how much power you'd already given him.

Pushing up into a sitting position, you looked at the bottle on your desk and thought about the sinking feeling you felt in your stomach when you thought about what little you'd said in regards to it and how easily Bucky could misconstrue its true meaning. You couldn't help but feel a little touch of panic at what Bucky might be thinking and feeling after the abbreviated conversation you remembered having.

That thought had you taking a deep breath and admitting to yourself that you weren't the only one vulnerable, that he wasn't the only one with the power to cause pain. That dangerous thought led to others until your heart was racing with hope and anticipation. You didn't know what was going to happen next, but you were determined to fix whatever was broken rather than accept that it had to be that way.

You wanted Bucky. It had always been him for you. When you thought it impossible, you’d tried to move on, but a part of you had never been able to stop grieving for what couldn’t be. The bright, gorgeous idea that you’d been wrong, that Bucky wanted to be yours had you leaping to your feet. You may have been pale, naked, and headachy, but you knew what you wanted and were determined to fight for it.

You wanted Bucky, so you were gonna go get him; it was as simple as that.

Now that you had a goal, all you needed was a plan. You smiled, slow and wicked, at the almost empty bottle of Jameson, the first glimmers of an idea forming. Slipping on your robe in case Gamora had company, you grabbed your phone and the sheets to head for the washing machine and the shower. You had a lot of shit to get done if you were going to pull this off, but you needed to text Steve first.

Step One in Operation Poison Control? Get Bucky alone.

Steve had told you he was skipping the party to push on the project. You also knew if he'd gotten everything finished, he planned to try to get a date with Peggy. You had your fingers crossed that he'd managed both when you texted him around noon.

So? Did you finish? Are they done?

Steve felt guilt already crawling up the back of his neck as soon as he saw your name on the text. He wanted to confess immediately, to tell you that he'd fucked up and Bucky had seen some of the drawings. He didn't want to confess over text, however, knowing you'd be less likely to hold a grudge if you could berate him in person and right away.

I did and they are. You wanna come see?

You’d been hoping Steve would say yes for the purposes of furthering your Bucky agenda, which is why you were blindsided by the urge to rush over and look right away. You reined it in, though the anticipation of seeing the finished work was genuinely exciting. You reminded yourself that you had higher priorities at the moment.

YES!!! I really can’t right now, tho. What are you doing tonight, 8ish?

Steve cursed under his breath. He had really been hoping to get you over to look at the finished works that afternoon so he could be done with all the subterfuge once and for all. He wanted to tell Peggy the whole truth about the project, show her what he'd accomplished with your help. He had a feeling about her, knew he had a shot at something spectacular with her.

He also didn't want to leave Bucky alone in the apartment with temptation. He didn't think Bucky would go into the studio now that Steve had explained that you hadn't seen them yet and you had dibs, but he also didn't want to push it. If he could only have shown you before he had to leave, he could have confessed and taken off guilt and worry free.

I’ve got a date with Peggy. I ran into her at the gym this morning and she offered to buy me dinner to celebrate the end of the project. She’s amazing.

You were busy spreading clean sheets over your bed as you set up your evening. When you saw Steve's text confirming he'd be out of the apartment at exactly the time you wanted to be cornering his roommate, you grinned wickedly and began to plot in earnest.

Though nothing in the message mentioned it, Steve had, often enough, that you had an idea of where his head was at. Even if it wasn't, you knew he'd appreciate it, regardless, so you shot a quick text to hopefully make his date a little less stressful. And then another simply to squee over how freaking adorable they were.

I know it's been driving you nuts, so go ahead and tell her the whole thing. But I still get to see them first!!

I love how happy you are! She’s so great! And you guys are so great together! Goddammit! Agdhhdkfkfkjsh!!!

Steve grinned at your response, the relief huge enough to almost drown out the scream of guilt. He knew he should tell you right now that Bucky had seen at least one of the finished paintings and a ton of the sketches, but he was terrified you'd take it back and he really wanted to tell Peggy the whole truth. He vowed to tell you everything and beg for forgiveness. Tomorrow.

THANK YOU!!! Stop congratulating yourself.

No! I rock! I am the Queen of Matchmakers!

Yes, fine. Thank you, your majesty, for introducing us.

By the time you were done with the quick banter, you were sitting at your desk, making a checklist of all the things you needed to get done to make your plan work and also not fail your finals. Anxiety crawled up your neck as the list got longer and longer.

But you also REALLY wanted to see Steve’s paintings.

You’re so totally welcome. How about tomorrow afternoon then? I should be able to take a break.

Steve breathed a sigh of relief. He’d only have to hold on for one more day. He’d talk to Bucky again, get his promise that he’d stay out of the studio. Then, tomorrow he’d show you the paintings, apologize for not locking the door, and everything could hopefully go back to normal.

Sounds good. I’ll text you around two?

Perfect.

Perfect was exactly right. Steve would be gone, and Bucky planned to stay in and study for finals. At least, that was the plan as of last night. You hoped nothing had changed because…

Step Two of Operation Poison Control: Full-on seduction wear. The rest of your checklist complete, and that had been hell to accomplish, you dug into your closet for a dress you’d only bought at Nat’s insistence. She’d been sure she’d be able to talk you into it during the coming summer nights when you went clubbing. A short skater dress with cutouts for cleavage, an abbreviated hemline that stopped just south of your ass and fabric that tightly hugged your torso before flaring out at the hips, it was both incredibly revealing and wonderfully flattering. You couldn’t wait to see Bucky’s face.

You pulled out all the stops with your hair and makeup, going for tousled and sultry with pouty lips and bedroom eyes. When you were done, after a day of laundry, studying, and careful plotting, you stood in your bathroom, looking at your reflection and taking a few deep breaths.

When you stepped out of your bedroom on strappy stilettos, the Bottle of Poison in your hand, Peter Quill was sitting on the couch in your living room next to Gamora. The two of them turned at the sound of your bedroom door, but their expressions could not have been more different. Gamora’s face spread in sly satisfaction; she could see the determination and the optimism all over you.

Peter, on the other hand, gave a full-on jaw-drop before he wolf-whistled. Opening his mouth with a smirk, he said smoothly, “Damn, y/n, you look--"

“Peter, if you hit on my best friend you won’t even make it to that first date. You’re on probation, remember?” Gamora's voice was sharp and unamused, but you could see the twinkle in her eye that told you she was having a perverse kind of fun.

Quill held up a hand, his voice carrying the offense of the maligned innocent, “I was gonna say… that she looks hot but come on!” He was laughing as Gamora stifled a smile and smacked his arm. “Look at how hot she looks! It’s not my fault!”

She rolled her eyes at him before fixing you with a piercing stare. “Are you finally going to listen to me? Actually talk to him?”

You lifted the bottle. “Yes, ma’am.”

Gamora gave you a quick once-over. With a nod, she smirked. “You do look hot. Go get him already.”

As you walked out of your apartment you heard Quill say, “Uh, Gamora? That wasn’t the look of a woman planning to talk.” You were cackling wickedly as you shut the door behind you.

With their stamp of approval, you were certain that you'd accomplished your goal, which was to sex it up enough that there was no way you wouldn’t succeed at…

Step Three in Operation Poison Control: Get through the door.

Bucky sat at his desk with his head in his hands, his eyes on the diagram in front of him, trying to shut out thoughts of you so he could concentrate on memorization. He was almost grateful for the knock on the door because he was failing miserably.

He couldn’t stop thinking about you, had already grabbed his phone to text you a dozen times. Knowing you were just down the hallway was absolute torment, but he didn’t know what he’d say even if he gave in and knocked on your door. Steve had been little help, advising him to tell you he was in love with you, but Bucky couldn't explain to his friend all the reasons that was a minefield.

And the first was staring him in the face when he swung open the door to find you in a dress seemingly designed to give him an instant hard-on. The problem was that he was pretty sure he was addicted to you, and the sight of you standing at his door in straight fuck-me wear with a smile on your face to match did not help his affliction in the slightest.

His voice already aching, he breathed, "Babygirl. Where you going looking like that?" Bucky gave you the lopsided half-smile that always preceded bedroom eyes and a lowered voice. "And can I come, too?"

Careful to keep the bottle behind your back, you stepped close, biting your lip and laughing sultrily. "That depends on if you’re alone. And if I get to come first."

Bucky couldn't have said no even had he wanted to. He'd never been so happy Steve had a date. "I’m all by my lonesome tonight." He stepped back to hold the door open wide in welcome for you. "Why don’t you come inside, and we’ll see what we can do about the rest?"

You let your arm fall to your side as you sauntered by on your way to the kitchen. You tossed over your shoulder as you went, "You take care of the rest and I’ll let you come inside."

Behind you, Bucky was rolling his eyes in appreciation for your ability to turn him on with just your smart mouth when he spotted the bottle in your hand. He thought he recognized it and his stomach sank in dread as he followed. "Whatcha got there?"

You moved to the cupboard where Bucky and Steve kept their glasses, taking down a couple of mismatched shot glasses. "A peace offering," you answered, moving to the counter and setting them down. "I realized this morning that I'd explained some of this," you lifted the bottle and shook the little bit of liquid in the bottom, "but not all of it." You poured what was left into one of the shot glasses, then picked it up to pour half into the other. You offered the empty bottle to Bucky, a soft smile on your face as you explained.

"This is how I did it, how I cut you off for years." Your face was soft and sad and made Bucky's heart clench in misery as he took the bottle from you, though he wasn't sure what you were trying to say. "I convinced myself you were bad for me. That you were poison. I never let myself forget it."

Bucky knew it wasn't enough, but he'd apologize a thousand times if you needed it. “Y/n, I'm sor--”

"But you're not bad for me. You’re not poison." You cut him off, knowing where he was going and not needing or wanting to hear it again. "Bucky, I'm sorry."

Of all the things he expected to hear, that was the very last. "What?!"

"You shouldn't have run from me," you said with a teasing smile, "but I shouldn't have hidden from you." You picked up both glasses, offering one to Bucky. "Forgive me? I'd say let's trade, but you've already apologized, and I've already forgiven you."

Bucky took the glass from you, hoping he understood correctly. "I don't need an apology," he said seriously.

You smiled sweetly. "Need or not, you deserve one. I promise to never cut you off again." You lifted the rim of your glass in offering, to toast on the last of the poison together.

Bucky hoped he understood what you were offering, not only forgiveness, but a clean slate. He clinked his glass to yours and spoke what he hoped was only the first of a thousand promises. "And I promise to never let you go without a fight."

Bucky could see that had been exactly the right thing to say as your face lit up with a smile so sweet and sparkling it took his breath away as surely as the whiskey that burned down his throat. He was pretty sure it was only you making his head spin, however, as you came around the counter to grab his hand and pull him toward the living room as you pulled your phone from the little pocket in your skirt.

"Next order of business," you said with a mischievous smirk as you pushed him into the recliner, "I want to show you a video I received last night, but I didn't see until this morning."

Once he was seated, you slid sideways onto his lap, one arm behind his neck, the other holding the phone up as you showed him the video Natasha had sent you.

Bucky had been grinning at your playful attitude, happy to welcome you into his lap. His metal arm behind your back, his flesh hand had already started to climb up your leg when he realized what he was looking at. Panic setting in immediately, his hand tightened almost painfully on your thigh as he heard himself begin to speak without a clue what he was going to say. "Y/n, I swear--"

"Shh." You cut him off with a finger to his lips, then a kiss to the tip of his nose, effectively silencing him. "Listen." Once the video came to a close, you stuffed the phone back in your pocket and linked your hands behind his neck, turning your body towards his and leaning in.

"So," you smirked into his happy, hopeful face, your lips a breath from his, "you're involved with someone?"

Bucky laughed a little, breathlessly, and wondered who he had to thank for sending you the video. "Involved doesn't begin to describe it."

Your smile sparkled again and made Bucky's heart race. "Really?" Your voice was smug as you snuggled further into Bucky's lap. "Anyone I know?"

Part Thirteen here

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[inviouswriting]

Rules - Mobile version

I am not cutting this for obvious reasons. It needs to be seen.

All places and people have boundaries. I’m no exception. Please read these before asking questions or requests if you have any. 

1. No loli/shota/underaged stuff. It’s illegal and I will call you out for it. I will never write for this. Not. Ever.

2. I write explicit stuff. Goes without saying… I write what I want. I can’t tag it with certain tags otherwise this site flags it. So if the content is specific, it will have smut tagged in the description. 

3. No incest or rape. I find it disgusting. I will not write this whatsoever. I also ask that people making requests not include scenarios where character A finds out about character B’s past. I prefer to write happy and pleasant things.

4. I won’t write domestic abuse. It’s off limits. I rather write positive stuff over negative. So no scenarios of asking “reader/character came from a bad past. How will this character react.” Some doors are best not opened. I will personally if I feel prompted to will write it on my own terms.

Clarifying rules 3 and 4. Basically I won’t write rape, domestic abuse, incest, reader was a victim of cruel things, suicidal thoughts, was a cutter, has scars or self harms. I can handle some serious topics but nothing that will be outright triggering to readers who have gone through these things. There are certain subjects that shouldn’t be touched just for a reading prompt. Out of respect. If I write something involving anything of these. It’s my own accord. I want to touch it and provide something to others who might need to read something positive about something dark they’re going through.

5. Do not steal my works. I do not give out the permission to repost my written work at all. If you see it anywhere let me know. This kind of goes without saying. Please don’t rewrite my stuff to fit your means. I do not take well to my stuff stolen.

6. Death/gore/depressing/graphic content - I am capable of writing it. Just not for this blog. I am no longer accepting requests for this kind of content. I will delete them. I won’t write reactions for “character is killed in front of character. What are their reactions.“  I don’t like writing triggering content for fandoms. 

Angst is okay. There is a difference between tragic and angsty feels stuff. I just don’t like writing death as much as I use to. Unless it is my reaper.

Comfort and dealing with serious subject matter will always be held with respect. But I just don’t feel comfortable writing it for enjoyment. I have an original universe I do write this content for. So if you see one of my “Original Writings” this content is frequent there.

Thank you for understanding.

FAQs.

1. Why can’t I ask for incest and rape. Domestic abuse? 

Getting into the real of it. I survived it. I did not come from a good childhood. It was full of all of this. I’ve been preyed upon by multiple abusers. I do have PTSD from them, so I keep it out of my writing to avoid triggers and I hate focusing on a negative point in my life. I’ve come a long way from where I was from my traumas. To anyone else who has suffered through it. My writing blog will always be a safe haven from it. This is the only place where I will mention it, I ask that no one come into my inbox for details. I already said more than enough  I don’t like letting people know this side, but I feel like this is where I can explain it. It takes a long time to push pass those feelings. I still struggle with them, just some days are better than others.

2. What takes so long for a post sometimes? I have a full time job that takes alot of my time. I leave at 2:30 - 3 am every morning and don’t get home till around 5-7 pm. I’m tired. If I have time to write something I’ll write it. My free time is usually on the weekends. So patience~ Or whenever I have downtime while I work! 

3. Rule 5 explained - “It’s just written words.” Words and time I will never get back. Just like art theft, story theft hurts the people involved who spent hours writing and getting things right.  So I don’t allow people to print my work, or otherwise copy it and post it across mediums for others. ASK ME FIRST! 

4. I don’t do commissions. I free-write. I also write for myself. It takes me a while to get inspired, and this is a hobby. I like to keep my talents and skills as hobbies rather than make a job or chore out of it. I feel like once I do that. It loses its charm. I did do that once for a fandom (not commissions) but I got so swamped that I left that fandom and refuse to touch it. (looking at you Undertale.) I by no means hurt for money, I have a regular paying job that takes care of me. So no one ever has to worry about me asking them for donations or commissions.

5. You posted something and now I can’t find it. I am normally proud of my written works. There is only one fandom where I have trashed every single thing I’ve written for it. If I despise one of my written works. I probably trashed it. Or if I feel controversy hits, I will remove it. I have zero time to be playing high school games of “ooh she said this lets all gang up on her and hate her for this.” If you are that kind of person. Kindly go away. I don’t want those kinds of people in my circle. I will ban people who act like that.

Personal preference in writing - I tend to try and write gender neutral. Unless prompted or I want to write a specific gender. I tend to lean more towards m x f stories. It’s more my element. More of what I am comfortable with. I am not accepting same sex prompts at this time. Not because I am homophobic or against homosexuality. I don’t feel comfortable posting it. 

There is a theme here. My comfort level. When you click on this blog. You are stepping into my world, and what I bring forward. If my comforts are not yours. Then seek elsewhere. I will not sacrifice my comfort level for you. If I take a prompt on, I either like it, or am trying something out. 

I want to express something whilst here. I have learned in total.. 15 characters for ff14. because I like writing for you all. 15 characters that I graciously spend my time thinking of ideas for. I am adding onto this as I learn new faces. I have over 450 posts just for ff14. Characters I wasn’t certain of learning, I learned and write happily for friends and readers.

Everything I write is my own prompting unless I otherwise specify it. I tag and credit prompts and pictures used, characters. You name it. The only thing you will not see on my blog is unsourced artwork. 

So... to kind of go into something. Since December when I first started Trust. And after the loss of my original writing blog. I have written over 455 posts all for FF14. 

It is a pure privilege to be able to read what I bring out. I am excited to write it! But all of that can come to a screeching halt with careless words. I am a human behind this blog. I do have feelings, I do all of this of my own free will. 

And I am grateful to the kind souls I have met through this. 

I’ll touch on more.

I write for - 

FF14

Kamigami no Asobi

Ranma1/2

Sailor Moon

Ragnarok Online

Bleach

Content I write -

Smut

Romance

Fluff

hc’s

oc x canon - (Usually my own, it is hard for me to write others oc’s.)

original works

friendship

gender neutral readers

reader inserts

I tend to favor female x male writing. So you’ll see a lot of this.

What I won’t write! - 

Death - IE - Character reactions to gravely injured s/o, reactions to love interest dying, being hurt, maimed, or anything catastrophically shocking. 

Gore - This is not the blog you will see death and dismemberment and anything or anyone bathing in it. (I only write that for my original story.)

Rape (See rule 3.)

dubious consent (Still rape yo)

Canon x Canon. Sadly someone ruined this for everyone else. I won't write something involving another character. Unless I personally do it. This will be once in a blue moon.

Triggering things - Stalker, Yandere, abusive content, survivors of things, Tragic backgrounds where character has suffered great abuse growing up or the sort. 

Mental health or other dysphoria, real world problems. Unless specifically asked for a honest prompt. And I mean ones that are held in respect and never mocked.

I want to keep my writing blog drama free. 

All of my content is my own. My prompts, if I use a prompt from somewhere I will have it credited with respect and a highlight back to where I got an inspiration from. 

Last but not least. If you HAVE a complaint. Please send it to my main blog @Invidia1988 . Again I want to keep this blog drama free!

[sixstepsaway]

okay okay this is the anon from before about the patronizing fic comments and I need to like write an essay which will be mostly me having very few coherent things to say and just quoting things then screeching about them like a dying whale so YOUR LAN ZHAN IS FUCKING MAGNIFICENT AND I LOVE HIM. god I think I’ve written 70k worth of fic so far for this fandom and NONE of it from Lan Zhan’s POV because it’s fucking HARD and anyone who doesn’t think it is probably isn’t doing it right 1/

and Wei Wuxian assuming Lan Zhan had been married to someone else, you’re like this man is a total and complete dumbass but it’s also like, this is EXACTLY what Wei Wuxian is like god help Lan Zhan. can I also? it totally doesn’t surprise me that he doesn’t remember the chickens (and boy, do I have a dissertation or two about trauma + memory issues) but Lan Zhan is so PATIENT about this I am in awe 2/

“Then you coped with a terrible situation by tricking yourself into thinking it was your choice,” Lan Wangji says. “You did not consent.” can I just scream about this for a year because I literally have said this to a dozen clients in my life but never this SUCCINCTLY like you put into a dozen words something I’ve always needed 50 to say and I am just 3/

“Is my hand not real?” Wei Wuxian spit out his food and I dribbled coffee all over my front (this is 100% your fault btw), and the whole thing with teasing Lan Zhan and accusing him of thinking about rabbits, I died. “No,” Lan Wangji says and meets his eyes. “You fucked me.” and cue me having to stand up and walk circles around my room going oh my god oh my GOD and THEN Lan Zhan makes him soup and I just need a year to cry over here in the corner, it’s fine, I don’t need my heart today 4/

in short this is the greatest thing I've read in a long while and i fucking THANK YOU 5/

(whispers) why are you thanking me when you just wrote the greatest thing i’ve read in a while

Seriously, these messages mean so much to me!! I’m going to break it down a little to reply.

Lan Zhan’s voice: I find him... he’s either easy as hell or the hardest thing in the world. I identify quite a lot with him, so sometimes it’s easy to get in his head, but other times it just passes me by and it’s very difficult to figure out what on earth he could be saying - or thinking. I also find his speaking voice difficult, because he doesn’t use it much, and when he does I’m always worried I’m having him talk too much? But he does talk to Wei Wuxian, so I just let it happen.

Wei Wuxian being a dumbass: yes. When I was watching the show (and this is the premise I’m running on in this fic. I know it’s not canon in the books, but I’m going with Show and my own headcanons), when I reached the cave scene (with the tortoise), I was ABSOLUTELY CONVINCED of two things: 

Lan Wangji knows full well that he is Married To Wei Wuxian and has absolutely no idea how he feels about it besides “well, I’ll be faithful and it’s A Marriage” and doesn’t have a clue what Wei Wuxian feels about him either. 

Wei Wuxian knows well well that he is Head Over Fucking Heels for this man but has no idea they’re married nor that he might feel the same. 

When I reached the present time and the episode where they were hiding behind the hay bale and Wei Wuxian was still completely oblivious about the song, I was sure of three things:

Lan Wangji knows full well that he is Married To Wei Wuxian and is In Love With This Dumb Gremlin, and has no idea how Wei Wuxian feels in return. 

Wei Wuxian knows full well he’s still Head Over Fucking Heels for Lan Wangji but thinks after all this time they’re just Really Good Friends and has no idea they’re married.

They still have not kissed.

Also! It makes sense to me that he wouldn’t remember offering Lan Wangji a piggyback because that was right around the most traumatic time of his life (so far, oh my god, my poor baby) what with the fact he’d not long come out of the dungeon with the dog and would then get dropped off his first cliff and fight a tortoise. I imagine most of that whole time is just a blur. 

The consent line: Okay, so, full disclosure: I have multiple friends who have PTSD, and I (willingly, happily) spend a lot of time soothing them when that PTSD plays up. I also have - without going too far into detail - my own trauma due to long-standing emotional and verbal abuse in a toxic household growing up (and now, too). A lot of the conversation between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian draws from those experiences, and although I’ve never had the exact, “Then you coped with a terrible situation by tricking yourself into thinking it was your choice. You did not consent,” conversation about sexual assault, I’ve definitely had ones that’re pretty damn close (and received similar ones). 

If it helps at all, feel free to use those succinct lines with clients if you want! 

The hand: YEAH I WAS PRETTY PROUD OF THAT ONE. Did you actually walk circles around your room? omg. if you did that’s a huge compliment and i will die happy from it. 

The soup: I HAD NO IDEA WHERE THIS WAS GOING UNTIL I WROTE IT AND I WAS LIKE YES YES YES YES THIS YES idk it just seemed to work, you know?

Thank you so so much for the essay, omg. ♥♥♥

[three-drink-amy]

If After All These Years, You’d Like to Meet

note: I am about to be pretty busy so I wanted to get this chapter out before that happens! I hope you all enjoyed it! Your support on this fic has been so wonderful and so encouraging. This was my first fic for this fandom and it's been an incredible experience. I don't think I'd have written 21 chapters and over 100k words on this story if it hadn't been for the response I've gotten. So truly, thank you! 

That being said, we're in the home stretch on this one. There's one chapter left!

master list - AO3

Chapter Twenty-One

Claire opened the door to see Jamie still sitting on the couch. “Well someone must be enjoying unemployment. I’m fairly certain that’s the same place I left you in this morning,” she teased.

Jamie leaned his head on the back of the couch to meet her for a kiss as she walked by. “Aye, I am in the same place, but I’ll have ye know I did get up and move occasionally. Mainly to piss.”

Claire laughed as she set her stuff down at the kitchen table. “You lazy bum.”

Jamie looked over at her and scoffed. “Hey! This is the first time I’ve gotten to be truly lazy in eight years. I’m milking it! I won’t start the new job for a few weeks.”

Claire threw herself down on the couch next to him, her legs spilling over his lap. “Honestly, I’m just teasing you because I’m a bit jealous.” Jamie grinned, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “I’m surprised you didn’t go for a run.”

“Oh, I did. Light 10k,” he informed her, running his hand along her arm. Claire rolled her eyes at him. “So I was going to call ye at work but then I looked at the clock and figured ye’d be leaving soon. Do you think ye’d be able to take off the weekend of the 12-14th?”

“Of July?”

“Yes, of July,” Jamie clarified.

“I already took it off. Do you think I don’t know what that weekend is?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

He grinned, kissing her on the nose. “Nah, I figured ye would.”

“So what are you thinking? I’m imagining if you asked, you’re thinking something.”

“Well, aye. I thought we’d go to Scotland,” Jamie offered.

Claire watched him for a moment. “Are you sure you wouldn’t just rather stay here?”

Jamie frowned. “What do ye have against Scotland, Sassenach?”

“Well nothing. You know I love it there, but we’ll already be there this weekend. And that’s only two weeks later. It’s just a lot of up and back,” Claire said, standing up to go get some water.

“Perhaps I’m missing something. Why are we going up this weekend? Since when are we going up this weekend?” Jamie asked, staring at her as she returned to the couch.

“Jamie, it’s your niece’s -”

“You can just say our niece,” he interrupted.

Claire grinned at him with a shake of her head. “Fine. Jamie, it’s our niece’s first birthday. Don’t you think we should be there?”

“Ye ken what I jus’ realized?”

Claire rolled her eyes as she sat back down. “What did you just realize?”

“That wee Janet will no’ know ye as anything other but her Auntie Claire,” he informed her with a fond smile on his face.

“That’s sweet,” Claire agreed. “But let’s get back to her birthday. Why do you think we’re not going? Jamie, did you forget about her birthday?”

“No, of course I didna forget. I suppose I forgot to tell ye that Jenny said we shouldn’t come,” Jamie said. “She figured we’d come up for our anniversary and so they planned a birthday for wee Janet that was just the Murray family. No Frasers allowed, apparently.”

Claire frowned at Jamie. “She doesn’t want us there? But we’re family.”

Jamie shrugged. “I dinna ken. Perhaps she’s planning to tell the children there’s to be another one.”

Claire smacked Jamie on the arm. “You’re terrible.”

“What do ye expect of me? Ye’re the one I’ve been making bets with on when it’ll happen!”

“So we’re really not going?” Claire asked. “It’ll be that weekend instead of this weekend?”

Jamie nodded. “Aye, if ye like.”

“I guess that’s better. I don’t want to pack this week anyway,” Claire remarked, relaxing into the couch against Jamie.

“Perfect.”

Jamie pressed play on the show he was watching before Claire walked in. She snuggled in next to him, her arms coming around his waist. He’d breathe easier when all the secrets were out. But for now, he felt guilty lying to her. He also felt guilty for making Jenny lie to her, as Claire would no doubt call to confirm these plans with Jenny. But she’d understand in the end. Big things were coming, she just didn’t know it.

~~~

It was odd to Jamie to be waiting outside his own flat, but he didn’t feel right just letting himself in. John should be there any minute. Checking his watch, he started to get irritated that John was late. He had to get home before Claire did.

A loud set of footsteps signalled John’s arrival. “Sorry I’m late!” John yelled as he ran towards the door. “My therapist would not stop talking today! It was like I did my part and then she needed to do an hour too.” He shook his head in annoyance. “Anyway, sorry.”

“Ye’re fine. I just need to make sure I get home before Claire.” John nodded, opening the door for Jamie. “So how is therapy going? If ye dinna mind me asking.”

“I think it’s going well. Even when I don’t want to talk about dark stuff it’s nice to just talk to someone,” John commented.

Jamie frowned at him. “Ye ken ye have friends to talk to for free about yer daily life.”

John laughed. “Oh I know. But sometimes it just all links back. I’m doing good though. I mean it’s been five months since the attack and three months in therapy. My therapist says I’m making good progress which is always nice to hear.”

Jamie walked back out of his old bedroom and nodded at John. “Aye, that is nice to hear. I’m proud of ye, John. I ken it was hard to take that step.”

“Thank you,” he said, a touched look on his face. “Probably wouldn’t have done so without you and Claire.”

Jamie nodded, choking back some emotion. “We’re always here for ye.”

“That’s why they call you my parents,” John joked. He looked at Jamie’s hand. “Got what you needed?”

Jamie held up the fist clenched around the object he’d come to claim. “Aye, I do. Thank ye for keeping it.”

“Not a problem,” John waved off, walking Jamie toward the door. “Talk soon?”

“We will. I’ll see ye,” Jamie said with a clap on his back before walking out the door.

~~~

Jamie and Claire had arrived at Lallybroch and were putting their bags down in the room they always shared. Jamie threw himself down on the bed with a sigh. “Wow, to think that one year ago today, we were just two fools who thought we’d never work it out.”

Claire laughed as she rifled through her bag. “I think we’ve done a pretty good job,” she mused.

Jamie jumped up off the bed, walking up behind her, and putting his arms around her. “I’d say would have to agree, mo nighean donn,” he whispered in her ear. She turned with a grin, meeting him for a quick kiss. “If it hadna happened here, when do ye think we’d have finally confessed our deep dark secrets to each other?” Jamie wondered aloud.

Claire laughed, her arms holding his. “You know I’ve wondered that before.” She turned around in his arms, her hands clasping at his neck. “I feel like we both just hit a breaking point and couldn’t keep it in any longer.”

Jamie nodded thoughtfully. “I’m fairly certain if it hadn’t happened any sooner than it did, John and likely the rest of our friends, would have locked us in a room until we could figure it out.”

Claire laid her head on his shoulder as she laughed at that mental image. “You know, I could definitely have seen them doing that. God, they were so annoying.”

Jamie kissed her forehead. “I dinna ken about that. They were on to something.”

Claire smiled with a hum. “You might be right.”

They stood there for a long moment in the quiet of their room, holding each other, both mentally reflecting on the past year of their shared life. After a while, Claire pulled back, looking up to meet Jamie’s gaze. “I love you,” she said simply. With a quick kiss, she parted, the need to feel helpful growing too strong.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” Jamie told her as she walked out the door. Once the sound of her footsteps disappeared, he turned to his suitcase and grabbed the one thing he wouldn’t let her see. He hid it in their room before going down to visit with his family.

~~~

They’d spent the rest of Friday and up til the afternoon Saturday just spending time with the kids. Claire had been surprised that Jamie hadn’t asked for any of her time alone. But as she also enjoyed spending time with the children who Jamie already called her nieces and nephews, she didn’t mind. Jenny and Ian had been very busy with projects they wouldn’t let Claire or Jamie anywhere near, so it helped to entertain the kids. Claire tried to think of the silly games she and Jamie had played as a child. There was a definite chance that Jenny would kill them if they taught her children some of their rowdier games.

The evening was rolling in on Saturday and Claire strolled into the kitchen, ready to help Jenny. Her head snapped up at the sound of Claire’s arrival. “What are ye doing here?”

“I came to help with dinner.”

“Do I look like a woman who needs help making dinner? Are ye saying that I’m insufficient on my own?” Jenny seemed heated and Claire had no clue why.

“Look, Jenny, I’m not trying to start anything. I just wanted to be helpful,” she said, her hands raised.

“Well let me tell ye how ye can help,” Jenny offered. Claire nodded for her to continue. “Ye can get the hell out of my kitchen!”

“Jenny, seriously, what’s going on?”

“Claire, I dinna want ye in here. Get out of my kitchen!” she nearly screeched.

Claire was staring at her friend and nearly sister, completely confused. She was about to press the issue when Jamie walked in. “What’s going on?”

“Get her out of here,” Jenny demanded. “I dinna want her in my kitchen.”

Claire looked to Jamie, hoping he’d set his sister straight. His face bore no expression. He simply shrugged and gestured for Claire to follow him. “Why don’t we go for a walk?”

“Jamie, what was that?” she asked as she followed him out of the kitchen. “I’ve never seen Jenny like that.”

“Eh, sometimes she’s jus’ no’ a great hostess. It’ll be fine. We can just go for a walk before dinner,” Jamie suggested again. Claire shrugged and followed him out of the house.

They started walking across the vast Lallybroch lands. Jamie’s hand quickly took hold of Claire’s, lacing their fingers together. The sun was getting lower in the sky, but not low enough to set just yet. Even if Claire was still distracted a bit by Jenny’s outburst, she couldn’t deny that it was a beautiful evening.

Jamie slowed down as they approached a big tree near the back of the house. “Do ye recall this place?” Claire smiled fondly at the memories with a nod. “We’d all dare each other of who could get highest in the tree.”

Claire laughed loudly. “Ian was the winner for the longest time until he fell from a lower branch and then was afraid of heights.”

“How he only managed to break his arm and no’ his neck is still a miracle,” Jamie recalled.

“And then your mother wouldn’t let us anywhere near this tree for months,” Claire added, giving the tree a pat. “Should we climb it now?” Claire asked with a devious grin.

Jamie looked down at Claire’s sandals on her feet and her loose top. “Ye’re hardly in climbing clothes, Sassenach.”

“Spoilsport,” Claire muttered, taking his hand again as he started to walk from the tree.

They kept walking, stopping occasionally as Jamie pointed out spots on the estate from their past. It was a nice little stroll down memory lane. Most of the memories made Claire smile, if not laugh outright. Each time they moved onto a different place, she tucked herself a bit closer into Jamie’s side.

Jamie turned to start going up a steep, uneven hill. He held out a hand to stop Claire, instead having her climb on his back. He carried her up the hill and set her down once they reached whatever destination he was hoping to find. “Do ye remember this place?” Jamie asked.

“I’m not even quite sure where we are,” Claire admitted. Jamie pulled back a curtain of foliage, revealing the cave they’d hidden in as kids. “Oh my god, I’d forgotten about the cave.”

“I thought ye might have,” Jamie said, pulling out his phone to shine a flashlight. Claire took his offered hand and followed him in there. They both ducked down, afraid to hit their heads. Both of them were significantly taller than the last time they’d been in there.

Claire sat down on the floor at the back of the shallow cave. Jamie plopped down next to her. She wrapped her arm through his, leaning her head on his shoulder. “You know the last time I was in here?” Jamie leaned his head against hers. “It was the day after my parents died. Uncle Lamb started talking about how we’d have to go back to England for a bit before we moved on to India. But I didn’t want to go,” Claire recalled. “I ran out of my parents’ house with my backpack and I found myself here.”

“I recall,” Jamie said. “Uncle Lamb came to the house hoping to find ye and my parents had no clue where ye could be. I wouldna tell any of them where I thought ye might be, but I came to find ye here.” A silence hung between them. “Twas when ye told me ye’d be leaving.”

Her hand squeezed around his arm. “I believe I told you that they wanted me to leave, but I’d decided I could just live here and you could bring me food three times a day.”

Jamie laughed at the memory. “That sounds about right. I’d have done so.”

Claire breathed out a laugh, turning her head to plant a kiss on his shoulder. “I know you would have.”

“Twas no’ long after that day that I started begging Uncle Lamb and my parents to let ye stay here,” Jamie remembered.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before they stood and made their way from the cave. Walking back down the rocky hill, they continued on the walk down memory lane.

Jamie had slowed in the middle of a big field, his eyes narrowing. Claire turned around and watched him. He stepped a couple of paces closer to her, looking around critically. She had no idea what he was doing. “Aha!” he said suddenly, gesturing for her to join him. He grabbed her arms and made her stand right in front of him. “Right in this spot, one year ago, tomorrow, was where it all began,” he said with a broad grin on his face.

Claire looked around, trying to see if she recognized their surroundings as well as he did. “How can you even tell? It was so dark that night.”

Jamie shrugged. “I just do.”

Claire rolled her eyes with a shake of her head, an amused smile on her face. “Well, seeing as you didn’t bring a blanket, I’m afraid we won’t be having a repeat of those events. I refuse to have sex straight on the grass.”

Jamie pulled her close, whispering against her lips. “What if I let ye be on top?” His lips met hers for a long, heated kiss. The thought lingered on Claire’s mind as Jamie’s hands roamed across her body, landing firmly on her behind.

“We can’t,” she decided, pulling away from him just a bit. “We’ll miss dinner.”

Jamie shook his head. “I kent ye’d say that.”

“Well your sister is already mad at me for something stupid,” Claire reminded him. “I don’t want to make it worse by missing the dinner she cooked.”

Jamie laughed and took her hand again. “I see yer point.” Together, they started walking back towards the house.

There had been a couple more points Jamie had pointed out from their childhood adventures. It amazed Claire how sharp his memory was for that time so many years ago. She loved listening to the stories he told of them as kids, especially the ones she’d forgotten.

The sun was getting even lower in the sky, ducking behind the tall home, throwing the courtyard by the front door into shadow. Jamie led Claire under the archway and paused in the middle of the courtyard. “I think of all the spots, this is the most important one,” Jamie mused.

“Why’s that?” Claire asked.

“Because I was standing right about…” he backed up a few paces, “here the first time I ever saw you.” Claire smiled, a tilt to her head as she stared at him. “I remember thinking ye looked nervous to be here. My mam told me that ye were going to be my new friend and that we’d get to spend a lot of time together. And even then, even at four years old, I was excited about it. If only I’d known then what awaited us…”

Claire smiled at Jamie. She was about to reply when a sudden burst of light came from above them. Looking up, she saw several strings of lights, hung criss crossed above the courtyard, suddenly lit and twinkling at them. She stared at them with a confused laugh before turning to look at Jamie. But he wasn’t in the same place she’d last seen him.

He was down on one knee.

She laid a hand over her heart as tears formed behind her eyes. He hadn’t even spoken yet and she was already going to cry. She didn’t used to be such an emotional person.

“Claire Beauchamp,” he started, seemingly choked up as well, “ye’ve been one of the most important parts of my life since we were kids. Our mothers may have forced us together at first, but I believe it was fate that brought us back together last year. I canna imagine spending my life wi’ anyone but ye. Ye’re the perfect match for me and I like to think that I’m yers as well.”

Claire wiped away a tear, nodding insistently at him. “You are,” she whispered.

“Each day I wake up and I find I love ye more than I did the day before,” he continued. “Ye’re a rare woman, Claire, and I still canna believe ye’ve chosen to be mine. But I promise ye, I’ll do everything in my power to make ye as happy as possible.” He took a deep breath, holding his left hand up higher, a ring glinting between his fingers. “Will ye marry me?”

She cleared her throat, afraid she’d have no voice. “Of course I will,” she rasped. Jamie jumped up off his knee, closing the distance between them immediately. They met for a passionate, yet messy kiss full of emotion and promise. When they broke apart, Jamie took the time to slide the ring on her finger. “God, I love you,” she whispered, pulling him in for another kiss.

They were interrupted by the sounds of pots and pans banging together accompanied by a cacophony of cheers pouring out of Lallybroch. Claire turned, expecting to see Ian and Jenny. She was shocked to find all of their friends standing behind the Murrays, all cheering for the two of them. Claire looked over at Jamie, completely shocked. “What on earth? How are they all here?”

Jamie grinned. “I’ve been planning this for a bit now,” he admitted.

The two of them walked closer to the group waiting for them on the stairs. It was at that moment that Claire noticed Joe and Gayle among the group. “You two are even here?” she cried.

They bore matching smiles as they nodded. “Jamie asked me back in Boston,” Joe told her. “When he said what he was planning, we couldn’t miss it.”

Claire stared at all of them, truly touched by all the secrets they’d kept and all the planning that had gone into such a special moment. To have all of their friends there made it even better.

“You’re engaged!” Louise cried, wrapping Claire in a hug.

Geillis hugged the both of them, rubbing a hand up and down Claire’s back. “I’m so happy for the both of ye,” she said, also looking over at Jamie.

“Claire, I have to ask,” John started, “did you see it coming?”

Claire separated from Louise and looked at John. “Honestly, not at all.” She grinned, wrapping an arm around Jamie’s waist. “I guess it’s to Jamie’s credit that he’s sappy and sentimental all the time. I wasn’t suspicious by him wanting to take a walk down memory lane.”

Jamie laughed, placing a kiss on her temple.

“Congratulations, ye two,” Jenny cheered as they walked toward the stairs. “There’s a bit more waiting inside, so perhaps we should all go in.” The group turned to go back in the house. Jenny pulled Claire from Jamie’s embrace, giving her a hug of her own. “I’m sorry I yelled at ye earlier. Twas all part of Jamie’s plan to get ye out of the house.”

Claire laughed, hugging Jenny tighter. “I knew something was off with you! Now it all makes sense! If you yelled at me like that in front of Jamie, he’d normally tell you off for it.”

Jenny laughed, wrapping a hand around Claire’s shoulder as they moved into the house. “Aye, usually he would. Except when it’s his idea.”

Jenny led her into the living room where Jamie was grinning broadly at her. She looked past him and noticed the multitude of decorations strung across the room. Her jaw dropped as she took it all in. There were pictures of her and Jamie all hanging in the room. The biggest one was placed on the mantle. It was a blown up version of the picture of their childhood fake wedding. Claire burst out laughing, walking over to look at it closer.

Ian pressed a glass of champagne in her hand. “That’s there to remind ye that this is no’ yer first wedding to Jamie,” he said with a grin.

Claire laughed harder, hugging Ian. She turned and faced the room. “I truly can’t believe this. I can’t believe that you’re all here. I can’t believe you all apparently kept this very large secret from me for a long time.” They all laughed. Jamie walked over and stood next to her. Her next comment was just for him. “And I can’t believe I get to marry my best friend.” He leaned his forehead against hers, sharing a sweet moment.

“I thought you were marrying Jamie,” John interrupted, “not me.”

“I’m sorry, but are ye saying ye think ye’re Claire’s best friend?” Geillis asked. “I’m afraid that post has been filled since her first year of uni.”

“Yeah, by me!” Louise interjected, her hand raised.

“Oh boy,” Claire sighed.

“Picking your maid of honor is going to be really fun,” Hector commented before taking a sip of his champagne. The others laughed.

“Tis a good thing Jamie already kens who his best man is,” Rupert stated, winking at Jamie.

Jamie looked nervously at Claire before he faked a smile for Rupert. “Sure I do,” he lied. Claire didn’t miss Ian’s glare at Rupert.

Jamie leaned in, whispering to Claire. “Perhaps we should elope.”

Claire laughed. “Ooh, or perhaps we should just go with outsiders. Strangers. That would really throw them all off.”

Jamie laughed, holding her closer. “I like the way ye think.”

Thankfully the conversation shifted as everyone started eating and celebrating Jamie and Claire’s engagement. They sat around telling their favorite stories from before and after they’d become a couple. Jenny and Ian had particularly funny stories about them as children. Claire felt so surrounded by love and friendship and was truly amazed by it.

“I just feel the need to state, for the record, that I called this from the first night,” Louise exclaimed for the room. “I called it!”

“No you didn’t,” Claire scoffed. “You just accused me of falling for Jamie.”

“I was there,” Joe said, “and Claire’s right. That was what you said.”

“Okay, then I called that you’d fall for Jamie,” Louise corrected.

“Well then you should have put that on the record a full year ago, Louise,” Willie pointed out. “Tis no good now.”

“Aye, we already all ken that Claire obviously fell for Jamie. Yer news isna groundbreaking,” Angus agreed.

Louise rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

“I think we all saw this coming, Louise,” John stated. “Anyone with eyes, really.”

“Okay, we can stop now,” Jamie said before taking a sip of his champagne.

In true fashion, their friends carried on well past when they should have. But nothing could dampen the pure joy between Jamie and Claire. Even if they’d already known it in their hearts, their futures were now officially with the other. Claire wiggled her ring finger, watching the ring sparkle in the light. She looked up to see that Jamie had caught her doing so, an appreciative smile on his face. “I love you,” she whispered just so he could hear.

Jamie leaned in close enough to kiss her. “I love ye, too,” he whispered against her lips before sealing them.

As their friends started to leave, they left one last surprise for the couple. “Really, this is more a gift for Jenny and Ian,” Rupert explained, “but tis a gift for the both of ye as well.” John handed them a key.

“What’s this?” Jamie asked.

“We got ye a room,” Geillis explained.

“Yeah, there’s this sweet bed and breakfast in the village,” Louise told them. “You’ll be staying there.”

Jamie and Claire exchanged similar touched looks before glancing back to their friends. “That’s so thoughtful. Ye truly didna have to do that.”

“Well, like I said, tis more a gift for Jenny and Ian,” Rupert repeated with a wink.

Claire wrinkled her nose at him. Though she couldn’t deny that in the hours since Jamie’d proposed, she’d silently lamented that they were staying in a house with five children and two other adults.

Their group parted, congratulating them again, promising to celebrate again in London.

It wasn’t too much later, but not soon enough, that Claire and Jamie were walking into the bed and breakfast where their friends had gotten them a room. “It was such a nice thought to have them all there,” Claire mused, noting Jamie’s planning. Jamie looked over at her and grinned as they walked up the stairs. “I can’t believe Joe and Gayle came all the way here for it.”

“Joe said they wouldna miss it. But they also are going to be spending the rest of the week on vacation here in Scotland. It wasna just for the weekend,” Jamie informed her. “I gave them a list of places to see.”

“Oh good,” Claire replied. “Coming all the way here for a weekend would have just been insane.”

“Oh aye,” Jamie murmured, pausing his steps as he found their room. “Are ye ready, Dr. future Mrs. Fraser?”

Claire laughed loudly. “Just going to blend all the titles in there, hmm?”

“Yes, that’s what I was thinking.”

He opened the door, motioning for her to go first. Jamie had barely gotten in the room when Claire met him in a heated embrace, pushing him back against the door, closing it with their bodies. One of her legs was already wrapped around his hip as they kissed sinfully, their hands everywhere on the other. Before they even left the door, both of them started relieving the other of their clothes. Jamie’s kisses, like his hands, were everywhere. Claire moaned under his attentions. They were too far from the bed. She tried to direct them that way. Jamie’s hands slid down her back and under her arse as he bent to pick her up, meeting her for another long kiss.

Claire broke away from him before he could lay her on the bed, looking down at him earnestly. “I am so excited to spend the rest of my life with you,” she breathed. “I love you so much.”

Jamie’s mouth flicked up into a grin as he laid her down on the bed, quickly climbing over her. “I love ye, too, mo nighean donn. So much.” He began kissing his way down her body, stopping in the places he knew she enjoyed. “Ye’re going to be my wife,” he said into her neck. “How did I get so lucky?”

Claire wrapped her arms and legs around him, moving to flip them over on the bed. “We’re both lucky, my dear. Also, I believe you promised earlier that I’d get to be on top,” she reminded him with a sultry grin before she bent down to close the distance between them.

He clutched her closer to him, their hips grinding against each other before she finally reached down and guided him inside her. She cried out, her head bent back. They moved together, rocking, grinding, sliding against the other. Jamie’s hands squeezed her hips so tightly, she was sure she’d have bruises in the morning. She couldn’t find the energy to care about it when he was still thrusting into her madly.

“Sassenach,” he called out, “give me yer mouth.”

She followed his request, laying herself against him, meeting him for a long, languid kiss as they continued to race closer to their climax.

They laid spent next to each other, still basking in the afterglow of their private celebration. Jamie’s arms held her against him, his fingers running up and down her arm.

Claire held her hand up in the air as they both looked at her left hand and it’s new addition. “You know it’s got a good ring to it.”

Jamie kissed the side of her head. “What does?”

Claire looked back at him, an excited smile on her face. “Claire Fraser.”

Next chapter

[disregardcanon]

A decade in fanfiction

The meme template was made by me myself and I! Please, if you’re interested go ahead and do it! I would love to see other people reflecting on their writing right along with me :) 

Where can we read your fic? Please give us a link so that we can check these stories out!

my early fics can be read on my ffn The Ficsmith 

on ao3, my pseuds are sunkelles and fullmetal anime

I also have lots of short things here on tumblr. i would try searching a favorite fandom of yours and au on my blog and something might pop up. 

How many words of fanfiction have you written this decade?

On ao3, I have posted  1,031,824 words. I would bet that I posted 40k on ffn before i started posting concurrently to my ao3, and that i’ve posted maybe 80k of stuff just to tumblr? If I estimate that way and don’t think about unfinished works and wips, I’d say 1,151,824 words thereabouts. 

How many stories have you written?

I’ve posted 338 stories to ao3. I am not going to go do the math to add on my stories from ffn as well. 

Have you written on multiple websites? If so, which website is your favorite and why?

ao3 is my favorite website for fic because it’s just so EASY to search through, post to, and get your stats from. plus it’s very visually appealing. 

Have you used multiple pen names? If so, list them and tell us the story behind the name

on ffn, i used a lot of pen names over the years, but i only remember 3 of them 

1. thee sun. this was my first pen name on the internet and it was because back then, my friends and i had series of nicknames going where we were each a part of the solar system. one of my friends suggested that i should be the sun because i was happy and bouncy and the friend group “orbited” around me. it wasn’t really accurate then or now, but sun ended up sticking. 

2. sunless skies was my emo change to that pseud 

3. the ficsmith is my current name there as i thought the word “wordsmith” was badass and decided that ficsmith sounded very, very cool 

on ao3, my primary pseud has always been “sunkelles”. half of it’s the old nickname and half of it’s another nickname i won’t get into. it’s a very personal handle for me that i love dearly 

my second pseud is fullmetal anime, my anime pseud. fullmetal alchemist was one of my first anime when my old roommate got me onto my weeb phase in my twenties, and i thought that sounded too badass to pass up. 

What is the first story you posted this decade?

I Will Never Leave You Alone: this is a percy jackson fic set after the lost hero. It was my imaging of how the meeting in son of neptune might go if percy didn’t get his memories back. it’s bad, but it was my first attempt at fanfiction. i think that it could have been a lot worse. 

What is the last story that you posted this decade?

Not Willing to Wait for it: this is a tangled the series fic about cassandra. it’s not really my favorite thing i’ve ever written, but it’s not a terrible thing to end the decade on either. 

What is the longest story that you have wrote this decade?  

The Poetry of Time and Space: this is a pipabeth fic with annabeth as the doctor and piper mclean as rose tyler fic that i wrote back in 2013 at the urging of my first internet friend. coming in at 27,842 words, it’s the longest fic i have ever written. 

while i wouldn’t call it some of my best work, i’m still fairly proud of the thing. writing it helped me make a friend (even if we don’t keep in touch anymore), it helped me find some cool poetry, and i did a lot of fun historical research for it! 

i learned a loooottt about the history of spain for this fic and it was really cool. 

What is the shortest?

A Good Listener coming in at 192 words, this pipabeth fic is at the polar opposite end of the spectrum. 2013 was a wild year, my dudes. 

What’s your favorite?

I think that choosing a “favorite” would probably be too hard, but the one that I come back to the most is Over the Shadowy Hills. This fic could have been just good, but my friend was like. girl. you need to sort your shit out. and then i deleted it, worked on it with her help, and fixed it into something that i can still be really proud of. I’m glad that I decided to stick with it and give this fic the time and attention that it needed. 

What story do you feel was your biggest challenge?

I don’t have a fic in particular I would say is my biggest challenge, but one challenge has been the growing pains of becoming a better writer. I’ve moved into a point where I need to tell more thorough, longer stories, but I also don’t have the time needed to do that at the moment and my desire for instant validation is fighting against my desires to not do work and be a better writer. 

I know that right now I’m growing as a writer, but I’m not exactly sure what direction I’m growing in and how to deal with it. 

Which story was your most creative?

All Katz Go to Heaven is certainly an idea that no one but me would have come up with XD the premise is “all of hannibal’s victims from the show hannibal die and are reincarnated in brooklyn 99″ 

Which story do you think demonstrates the greatest growth?

I think that Paint a New Horizon demonstrates a lot of my progress as a writer. 

1. coming in at 23k, it’s one of my longest fics ever 

2. it has some of my best visual descriptions ever, as i decided to write sansa as a painter and it make visual descriptions a FAR bigger part of the story than they normally are when i write 

3. it handles dark subject matter, but i feel like i go into well. i’ve found myself dwelling in this universe a LOT, and i think that i might actually go back and write more of it over this next semester or summer because i just. like being in it. even though it was dark, it was also homey and lively and interesting, you know? 

4. it’s the best romance i’ve written this year, hands down. 

Here, have a snippet 

She dared a glance forward and met Margaery’s eyes- a deep, chocolate brown. They were warm and inviting and Margaery’s little curly bangs framed her face like a heart. Margaery’s head went over the back of the booth and it seemed to almost be floating against the flowery wallpaper. It looked like Margaery was lying out in a field of flowers- the Maiden gazing up at the clouds and trying to make shapes of them.

She could imagine Margaery telling her that this one is a flower, like Tyrell, and this one’s a deer, like Baratheon, and this one’s a dick, like Joffrey. She giggled nervously again and felt her cheeks flush. She’d never felt this giddy and unsteady in her whole life.

“Are you alright, Sansa?” Margaery asked cautiously. She reached across the table and laid a hand over Sansa’s own. The touch was warm and tender, and Sansa felt the blush from her toes to the tip of her head.

“I’m perfect!” Sansa nearly screeched. Margaery laughed at that, but her look was kind.

“Yes, darling,” she said with a smile that was wide and fond, “I think that you are.”

Lesbian. The word wasn’t supposed to fill her with such a warm, hopeful feeling, was it? She wiggled awkwardly in her chair, trying to get situated and stop feeling so silly and excited and vulnerable, but it didn’t fix anything. She felt Margaery’s leg brush against hers under the table. It sent a jolt through her.

Lesbian.

Sansa took a shaky breath. She thought to herself that there might be something to that.

Tell us about your writing process.

my writing process is quite frankly all over the board. sometimes, i’ll sit down and just hammer out a fic start to finish in one sitting, but when i don’t do that i’ll make the thing come together in patchwork. i’ll normally start with some vivid pieces of dialogue that i want to write and then i’ll figure out where i’m going and how. often, since i write in a nonlinear fashion i might end up having to change what i’ve written for the middle or the end, but when i get there and it doesn’t feel right for what i ended up writing, i always decide that i’m better off with what feels more natural. 

Tell us about how you come up with fic titles.

I have 3 different systems for determining fic tiles 

1. come up with a cool title to write a fic around. i wrote Chasing Annabeth solely because i thought that would be badass title 

2. try to find something external to the story, like a saying, a lyric or quote, that works with the message or mood of the story. for If You Believe in Me (I’ll Still Believe), I realized that both Memoria by Nirvana and Holland Road by Mumford and Sons shared a distinct feel with what I was doing with the fic, so I went through the lines of both and identified some possible titles. 

Then, I decided that the line “if you believe in me I’ll still believe” felt the most right. I thought that it best conveyed how much Jeyne believing that Theon could become better again contributed to him actually going through with it, whereas some of the other options didn’t have either the external influence or faint hope that I felt the fic deserved. 

3. find something from the fic itself or the source material! often times, i’ll end up with a motif in the fic that makes a perfect title, or i’ll have something to draw on from the source material. this feels different from the 2nd option because whereas that first one is going outside the world of the fic, this 3rd one is going inside the world of the fic. 

Have you ever used an epigraph? Tell us about your reasoning.

I use epigraphs for the same reason that I use outside sources for fic titles. While sometimes I have that lyric or quote in mind while I am writing the fic, like Washing Machine Heart, sometimes you get to the end of writing and realize that you’ve created something that would be enhanced if you were to have your readers mulling over the theme brought up in a song while they’re reading, like Unfinished Business. 

I don’t know, these are probably the reasons that ANYONE uses epigraphs, but it’s cool to see other people’s thought process. 

What are some of your favorite lines that you’ve ever written?

Here’s a few of my favorite exchanges from my older or more underrated fics!

She swallows the spit that has started to pool in her mouth and continues, "We'll all end up dying and meeting the void face to face and blah blah fucking blah, but the thing is that's tomorrow. This is today. You remember Thalia, so she matters. And you matter because you're alive. Your heart's still beating. You can still do shit. See shit. Be the shit. Annabeth Chase, you can still do anything."

Chasing Annabeth (2013)

Annabeth tsks as she laughs, “You’ve always got to steal the attention for yourself, don’t you?”

Piper laughs and then pretends to glare, “Borrow. I borrow things.”

“Borrowing BMWs is still frowned upon, my friend,” Annabeth says and then everything is back to normal. The future is forgotten, if only for a moment in the company of a friend.

The Fates Smiled (2014) 

“I guess,” Arya mutters, and she walks straight over to the trash. She pops the lid, and dumps the enormous plastic cock unceremoniously into it. Then she lets the lid close. She and Shireen look to the trash can in horror.

“Do you think that we should burn it?” Shireen asks.

She pauses a moment before she adds, “I’m afraid it’s going to attack us in our sleep.” Arya bursts out into laughter.

“I can hear the news anchors already,” Arya says, “women murdered in sleep by haunted dildo.” The Kids Are Alright (2015) 

"I think huckleberry just came out too," Maya stage-whispers back, "two gays for the price of one."

"Bi one get one free," Riley says with a shit-eating grin 

A Guide to Coming Out (2015) 

"Do I look like a man with a plan to you?" He tries to look as crazy as he can. Rachel isn't buying it. "You impersonated a member of the mayor's honor guard, you predetermined and informed us of every victim before you killed them. You're a planner, Joker. You're even a good one." The Joker shrugs. "I'm not a schemer, though. Don't hang my hat on whether or not things work out." In that moment, Rachel understands this man. Rachel understands why he does the things that he does, even though she thinks that he's the scum of the earth. "You wanted to let us know all our plans would fall apart. You wanted chaos." "You're a smart woman, Ms. Dawes," The Joker says, cracking a smile, "you know what I did to you and your boy toy was nothing personal. It was just to turn the schemer's plans on their toes.

The City of Bats and Clowns (2016) 

Zatanna crosses her arms over her chest as she leans against Bruce’s black SUV. The “parking lot” at this camp is a glorified field of grass. It rained last night, and there are muddy ruts left all throughout the field and little muddy puddles scattered everywhere. It’s disgusting and rundown and everywhere that Zatanna doesn’t want to spend three weeks of her summer.

“I don’t want to go to this stupid camp.” Endless Summer (2017) 

Rose feels a twist in her gut. This might be worse than finding out he wanted to desert. This is knowing the reasons behind it, having to see him as human in his mistakes and understand why he made them.

Oh how heroes fall and then stumble back up again.

The Spark That Will Light the Fire (2017)

Sloth is all the memories you have and never asked for, all the feelings you don't know what to do with.

Sloth is your feelings towards two boys who aren't your sons- can't be- because you never wanted them in the first place.

You never asked for this, to be born half-formed and hungry. To be born somewhere between not caring and caring too much, to just go along with what you were told because you don't care enough not to.

You never asked for those two boys to look at you the way they do, like you're something hideous and beautiful all at once. Like you're their sin to bury, their damsel to save. All you've ever wanted is for it all to stop.

The Seven Deadly Almost People (2018) 

What are you favorite characters to write. 

I don’t really have “favorite” characters to write because I bounce around so often. I’ll have a new favorite next year, but my favorite me character that I wrote THIS year was Dabi. 

Which story was the most fun to write.

Out of all the stories I’ve written, Dicks in the Wind comes to mind as being the most fun. The soulmate au where whatever your soulmate draws on their skin appearing on yours might not be my all time favorite, but the idea of spitefully drawing dicks on your own face to spite the soulmate who hurt you while also hurting yourself is both really fun but also really interesting? I really liked getting to explore the implications of that idea, the humor, Sabine’s relationship with Kanan, and the possibility of a reconciliation between her and Ketsu. 

If you use ao3, tell us about your fics with the most

Kudos: The Matter of Soulmates 1,049

Comments: Her Heart’s Duet 63 comment threads

Hits: Golden Cages, Silver Linings 15,272 hits

Subscriptions: The Matter of Soulmates 105 subscriptions

If you could have written one story this decade that you didn’t get around to, what would this have been?

There’s lot of fics that I wish I would have gotten written this decade. I think that if I could have written ONE fic that I didn’t get around to this decade, though, I would have turned my tucker turns ed into a chimera instead of nina tumblr post into a real fic. 

Do you write original fiction as well?

Sometimes! I don’t write it as much as I’d like, but I’ve written some short stories and I have some longer wips. 

Did you ever do nanowrimo this decade? If so, tell us about your projects.

I tried nanowrimo in both 2017 and 2018. My 2017 was a story idea about magic pirates. My 2018 was a story based on a fic idea I had where ed HAD created al like al thought he did in fma 03 for a while. it would feature prominent relationships with characters inspired by winry, wrath, and lust. both of these have about 15k to their name. 

What have you learned writing in the past decade?

I’ve learned a lot about myself as a person. For better or for worse, the easiest way to get to know me would be to go through my ao3 and just start reading. 

I also feel like I’ve learned that I CAN be a writer. While I have a long way to go if I ever want to become any good at original fiction and develop a thick enough skin to get it worked up to publishing shape, I know that I have the skills to at least give it a try.  If I don’t, I’ll always have these stories that I hold closely to my heart and this hobby that’s brought me a lot of joy. 

What are your writing goals going forward?

At the moment, I’m not entirely sure. I feel a little bit like I’ve stagnated and I need to figure out a way forward, but I’m not entirely sure what that way forward IS. I think that the way forward is longer projects (maybe even more original fiction) but I’m going to need to figure out a way to not devote all my mental energy to these projects at a time and also not let them wither and die. 

In the past, I’ve only been able to do proper, well written long fics when I had a LONG time to dedicate to getting the thing done. Like, days and days off that I could devote multiple hours to the writing project. In the future, I don’t think I’ll have that. I just need to find a way to not get SO into it that I can’t do anything else, but also maintain the energy and drive to keep coming back to it. 

Tell us about what aspect of your writing makes you the most proud.

I feel like I excel at word choice. People frequently comment on my fics that there’s something about the wording that just FLOWS, and I would have to agree. I feel like I’m good at choosing words that both sound good and hit emotionally. 

Tell us anything else that you’d like! This is your reflection post, so end on whatever bang you would like!

Thank you to everyone who has supported me over these past nine years! I haven’t been on tumblr for this whole time (i’ve only been here since 2012), but i grown a lot, both as a person and a writer, over this decade.

if you had told me when i wrote my first fanfiction that by the end of the decade i would write the order of the phoenix more than 5 times over in fanfiction, i would never have believed you. 

not every fic that i wrote was fantastic, but every fic that i wrote was MINE, and it’s a memory that i get to come back to when i’m feeling sad or lonely or like i can’t do something. so, thank you fanfiction, for always being there for me. even if you might be there for me a little too much XD

[that0nefangirl12]

Introduction

Welcome to my blog everyone! Honestly, this whole things been a higgeldy, piggeldy mess ever since I made my account, so I thought I'd try to organise things by introducing myself to Tumblr!

About Me:

-Major Introvert

-Spends most of my time wearing a hoodie

-Slytherin and proud

-My patronus is a donkey (yes, I know how ridiculous that sounds)

-I love to write, draw and come up with my own original characters

-I stay up most nights working on writing, because my ideas won't let me settle down

-I love reading and writing angst

Fandom Related Stuffs:

-Im currently part of the Warrior Cats, Wings of Fire, Harry Potter, Supernatural, My Little Pony and Sanders Sides fandoms

-I have been known the Velociraptor screech and yell a lot, when it comes to those fandoms.

-I grow very attached to my favourite characters.

-When I hate a character, I hate them with a burning passion

-I am shipper trash. Present me with enough hints to keep me screaming and wholesome fan content, and I guarantee you I'll be shipping it by the end of the week

-Some of my favourite characters include Scourge, Peril, Charlie, Jack, Hollyleaf, Ivypool, Princess Luna, Tempest Shadow, Luna Lovegood, The Basilisk, Appledusk, Goose feather, Spottedleaf, Virgil and Roman.

-Some of my least favourite characters are Firestar, Michel, Chuck, Mr Ketch and Dovewing

-And some of my favourite ships (ships that I will squeal over at any time) are Destiel, Sabriel, Fluttercord, Tempestlight, MapleMyler, ReedFreckle, Logicality and Prinxiety

What to Expect:

-I reblog a lot of amazing fan art, fan theories, fanfics and other fan content

-I also enjoy creating my own characters, drawing, and writing my own stories.

-Some of these things have already been posted to Tumblr, but now they're all in the one place.

-I want to do some posts discussing my fave characters, ships and fandoms, sharing my experiences, and telling how I learnt about these things. I think it could be fun! 😀

Anyway, feel free to ask questions, discuss characters, ask me if I ship anything else(I'm a major multishipper) or just discuss fan creations. I am open for discussions, as long as everyone is civil.

[raspberrytummytickles]

Jealous (1/2)

Title: Jealous Fandom: Supernatural Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, others.... Summary: Ticklish!Sam; Sam is a big boy now and doesn't need help from his big brother. But, that doesn't mean others could have Dean either! (Not Wincest) Wee!Chesters

Sam was becoming a big boy now. He could brush his teeth on his own (though Dean still hovered over his shouder) and he could get himself dressed. He was proud of what he can accomplish so far and said so. Sam told Dean that his big brother didn't need to watch over him anymore, he was growing up and could do things on his own. Dean had just smiled, in his big brother knows all, kind of way and ruffled Sam’s hair.

Currently, they were at the park and Sam was playing in the sandbox, waiting for Dean to help him build his castle. Even though Sam was a big boy, his brother always made building castles fun and totally awesome looking. Dean was hanging around the swings the last time Sam looked but when the six year old glanced back, Sam noticed a younger boy swinging on them too. Then Dean did the unthinkable.

He pushed the little boy on the swings. Sam could hear the child’s joyous shouts and yells for Higher! Higher! It made a feeling of something Sam wasn't really accustomed to but made his chest ache and his mood sour. Pure Jealousy.

Dean was his big brother. Not that kids! Dean was supposed to help Sam build a sand castle and they would play with the small army men Dean hid from Dad so Sam would have something to play with. But, Dean was pushing some little kid on the swing, having fun. Without Sam. It hurt his head and his heart because he wanted Dean’s attention.

Hot tears burned Sam’s eyes and he quickly shook his head. Sam was a big boy and big boys don't cry. The smallest Winchester wiped his eyes, sniffling into his sandcastle. It didn't seem so fun anymore and Sam wanted to go home. Dean looked like he was having fun with his new little brother and Sam didn't want to make Dean upset. He noticed how his big brother did a lot for him as their Dad wasn't around most of the time. Dean always watched Sam so maybe Dean grew tired of his baby brother. It made Sam sad even to acknowledge that. 

Sam stood and quickly ran to the slide, hiding into the tunnel. He stretched as far as he could so he could hold on at both ends and not slide down. The little boy sniffled again as the tears of jealousy and shame trickled down his cheeks. Maybe Dean wouldn't even notice he was gone.

He was dead wrong.

Not even five minutes later, Dean’s panicked voice called for Sam. The sand box was empty and there was no trace of his little brother anywhere. Every urge in Sam said to call back to Dean to assure him that Sam was okay but the stubborn boy stayed silent and cried quietly. 

Dean’s batman sneaker’s that their dad bought for his son’s tenth birthday ran past the slide and up the ladder. 

“Sammy?!” Dean called again, tears of fear and frustration getting the better of him. He peeked into the slide and paused at the small figure curled inside. “Sam?” He asked, softly. He got an answering sniffle and Dean sighed in relief. “Come on out, Sam. I need to talk to you.”

Now that he found Sam, anger pulsed through the older Winchester. He was terrified when he found his baby brother missing. Dean was at the swings, watching Sam build a little castle albeit unenthusiastically when a little boy asked for a push on the swings. His dad was putting his baby sister in the carriage and couldn't do it at the moment. Dean easily agreed, only when he looked up for Sam when the father did show up, his own tyke was gone.

“No,” Sam cried back, curling in on himself, nearly yelping as he slid a bit more down the slide.

Dean could hear the tears and felt some of his resolve soften and he lowered himself into the slide. “Okay, then I’m coming in.”

Sam’s eyes widened and he scrambled down as Dean pushed himself toward Sam. His legs came on either side of his little brother and Sam used them to lever himself out and took off in another run. Dean huffed when he didn't grab Sam immediately and ran after his baby brother. Dean was taller and older so he easily grabbed his younger sibling, ignoring his own hurt at the struggles Sam seemed to be going at to get away from him.

Dean pulled Sam into his arms and made his way back to the motel, wincing every time Sam kicked a bit to harshly. Sam was now making tiny whimpers, weakly hitting Dean with his little fists as he tried to get away. Dean was confused and hurt at what Sam seemed to be doing to get away from him so much. He was pretty sure this had nothing to do with being a big boy. And just this morning, the two were cuddled on the couch watching cartoons, so what changed?

Dean opened the motel door and closed it, being careful of the salt lines before putting Sam down. The little brother ran onto their shared bed and buried his face into the pillows. Dean walked closer and sat on the edge of it with a frown.

“Sammy...whatever I did, dude, I’m sorry.”

“Mhhm dumht whmmmt meh?” Sam mumbled back. Dean gave a fond snort and tilted his head.

“What was that, kiddo?”

Sam turned his head and gave big teary eyes to Dean, effectively breaking his heart, and repeated, “You don’t want me?”

Dean gaped and his eyes widened in surprise, “What?!”

Sam sniffed as his eyes grew extra watery and the tears escaped down his chin and onto the sheets.

“Where the hell did you hear that?”

Sam wrinkled his nose. Dean wasn't supposed to curse even though he was a bigger boy then Sam. Sam knew he would be called a baby if he told Dean so he turned his head and hid back in the pillows. Dean waited before realizing Sam wasn't going to answer...willingly.

“I didn't want to have to do this, Sammy, but you leave me no choice,” Dean mock-sighed, rubbing small circles on Sam’s back before fanning them out to the dips of the smaller boys sides. 

Sam squeaked in surprise, the tears pausing as the tingling ticklish sensation that passed through his body. Sam immedietley started squirming, arms reaching behind him to catch his big brother’s hands while trying not to laugh. He only lasted 15 seconds.

“Dehehehean!”

“Yeah, kiddo?” Dean asked, moving to the tiny hips and rubbing his thumbs on both sides, knowing how much―he himself―hates it and knowing Sam would too. 

Sam laughed loudly, childish howls of protest escaping his little mouth as he tried to kick his big brother away. “Nohohoho tihihihickles!”

“No tickles? But you love tickles!” Dean lightly danced over the small thighs before crawling back up to Sam’s butt, giving it a playful smack and tickling the little boy’s back. “That’s for hiding when I was calling for you, Sammy! Don’t you ever do that again.”

At the words, he dug into every rib he could reach, smirking at the pleading Sam squealed on and on about.

“Dehehean! I’m sohOHORRY!” Dean was able to wiggle a finger in both clamped armpits. He prided them open and dug his thumbs into the center of each pit, his fingers scratching the outer muscle.

Sam had new tears welled in his eyes but still not the reaction Dean was craving. He pulled away from Sam and expertly flipped his baby brother over. Sam yelped and looked up at Dean with those big hazel eyes. Dean leaned down and kissed Sam’s nose with a smile.

“I don’t know what’s going on in your head today, kiddo. But, I’m giving you a chance to tell me or I’m going for the tummy!”

“No tummy!”

“Talk to me, Sammy.”

Sam let out a tiny sigh and looked guiltily up at Dean, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. But, kid, please tell me what’s wrong,” Dean pleaded, running his fingers across Sam’s forehead, brushing away the hair.

“I...I don't want to be a big boy,” Sam cried, clutching Dean’s shirt with his little fists. Dean blinked a bit startled, before soothing his baby brother with small pets. “I-I still need you, De! Please don't leave me!”

“Sammy, I am never leaving you! What brought this on?”

“You-You were pushing that k-kid on the swings. I-I was waiting for you! You make t-the best castles b-but you never came!” Sam sobbed, eyes squeezing shut as they flowed down his cheeks. His face flushed with shame that he was crying but Dean was the best big brother ever so maybe he wouldn't make fun of Sam too much.

“S-Sammy, were you jealous?” Dean sounded a bit choked up, which Sam didn't understand. Sam didn't realize how happy it made Dean to know his little brother was trying to grow up but didn't want anyone to have his Dean.

“Yes,” Sam stated.

Dean curled his little brother into his chest and cooed, nuzzling into the thick hair. Sam took a shuddering breath and cuddled closer, nosing Dean’s collarbone and finally relaxing. The older brother let out a small chuckle and pulled the younger one away so he could look into the bright hazel eyes.

“Sammy, that kid didn't mean anything. He’s just a kid. You on the other hand, are my baby brother. You’re mine. Mom gave you too me so you don't have to get jealous. I’m always yours too.”

Sam smiled brightly and allowed Dean to lower him back onto the bed. Dean drummed his fingers against the ticklish sides. The smaller boy started giggling immediately, sounding happier and lighter then when he was tickled before.

“I still think you need to laugh, Sammy,” Dean smiled as Sam giggled excitedly. He darted his hands toward the middle of the slim tummy and scribbled his nails in circles and cursive words. Sam shrieked loudly, kicking his feet and grabbed onto Dean’s wrist, though this time, not pushing him away.

“DEHEHEHEHE!”

“I gotcha, Sammy.”

Dean turned the light tickles to hard ones, switching in between because of Sam’s reactions. The smaller boy was letting out such adorable child laughter that it seemed to brighten the room. Finally, going for the kill, Dean pushed up Sam’s shirt further and blew a big raspberry right on the tiny navel. 

“AHHHHH! AHAHAHAHA! DEEEEE!” Sam screeched loudly, hands tightening on his brother’s shoulder’s now. Dean ignored the pleads and put multiple tiny ones all over his brother’s belly, soon stopping himself because he couldn't stop laughing with Sam.

Sam curled on himself as Dean settled next to him, one hand clutching his brother’s shirt still. Dean scooped up Sam into his arms and hugged the small boy close with a grin.

“I’m yours, Sammy. It’s okay.”

And Sam was just fine with that.

~Fin~ Maybe continued eventually...?

[blazerina]

(😁😁 Ask game! If you get this message, choose ANY fanfic/fanart/other prompt you want, and send that same prompt to three creative people in your fandom! Don't forget to include this message! 😁😁) Prompt: "I can't believe I just said that out loud."

@firefly-hwufanficwriter - this has taken me forever to respond to but here you go! The prompt was: I can’t believe I just said that out loud.

PS This was not what I was intentionally going to write but the inspiration kind of took over and here we are. :) Thanks for sending me this prompt!

“A Regular Tuesday” - The Sophomore - Chris x MC & James x MC

Bridget stared through the oven window at the baked pasta that was almost ready. While she watched the cheese pulse and bubbleover the edge of the glass dish it was cooking in, the smell settled over the kitchen like a cloud, and she began to imagine how delicious it would taste.

“This is going to be sooo good!” She clapped her hands in giddy excitement, as she declared the news aloud to an emptyhouse.  She and her friends had beenliving in Professor Vasquez’s old house for about 2 months now, and they were well into themiddle of their fall semester.  The kitchen was her favorite place to be. It made the house feel even more like home. This is where she could provide for those who meant the most to her. Baking and cooking brought life; not only through nourishment, but time together and and joy from one another’s company as people gathered to break bread at the table.  Feeling confident and at peace, Bridgetmoved to the refrigerator and pulled out some vegetables, closing the door withher foot while humming a Taylor Swift song.

She had been preparing for this meal for a few hoursnow.  The apron around her waist wasproof of that. It was smeared with tomato sauce and chocolate, from the pastaas well as the chocolate pie she made that was cooling on the counter.  This would be the first night in a few weeksthat she and James would have together. Even though it was a Tuesday, she wanted to do something special forhim. He had been majorly stressed lately as he tried to balance his work with the paper, upcoming graduation, finding ajob and his general search for perfection in all things.  Making dinner for him was the leastshe could do to take his mind off of those troubling situations for a while.

The timer on her cell phone rang out and she dropped thelast of some bell peppers into a bowl of salad she was mixingtogether.  As she pulled the pasta dishout of the oven, she heard the hinges on the front door screech as it swung open.

“You’re here early, my love!” She called, beaming as she turnedaround with potholders on her hands, holding out the pasta dish, clearly proudof her creation.

Her face fell when she realized it wasn’t who she wasexpecting.

“Oh, shoot. Bridge! I’m sorry – I didn’t know you werehaving a…a…thing…” Chris blushed slightly as he looked his roommate up anddown.

Her hair was up (which was not the norm) and her diamondstud earrings sparkled in the candlelight that was reflecting from candles she lit on the kitchentable.  She had pulled out all the stopsthis time.  Chris knew that she loved tocook but hadn’t really experienced it much. He was so busy with Student Government or football, that he wasn’taround that much anymore. He made sure of it. Being around her was too difficult these days.

As he continued to take her in, he noticed the gleam in hereye as she nervously laughed, placing the hot dish back into the oven to keepit warm.  Her simple black dress wasstrapless but casual at the same time. Small, white, lacy designs decorated the bottom of her dress and while her heelsaided in her height, she was still small. He smirked at the pink and yellow apron around her waist and the many fresh stains that had been wiped upon it.

“Hey! It’s no problem at all.” She chuckled, taking the pot holders off of her hands and returning toher salad.  “I assumed since it was just a regular ole Tuesday evening, everyone would be gone…” Bridget trailed off while she absentmindedly grabbed a peeler and began peelingcarrots to add to the salad.

“Practice out early?” She asked, focusing on the smallstrips of orange that were landing in the sink. 

Something had been different this year with Chris and she didn’t knowwhat it was.  They had been making an effort to spend more time together, as friends of course, but they had come to rely onone another in a new and different way.  

Bridget knew that she loved James and that James loved her.They weren’t having problems, they were stronger and closer than ever…but inthose moments when it was just Chris and Bridget, there was somethingdeveloping and it made her nervous.  

They had spent more time together over the summer and the past few months, one on one. Bridget was busy with her book and her own writing for the paper, but she still wasn’t as preoccupied with life as James was.

She wasn’t worried about her relationship with James. For the first time in a while, since the whole California debacle, they were in a good place.  He trusted her, she trusted him and they really worked to make time for one another when it felt like things were getting too hectic.  Tonight was supposed to be a prime example of that new-found intentionality that both of them were working to bring to their relationship.

Is it just me? Shethought to herself.  I can’t be the only one that feels like something has changed between us.  The way he stares.  He looks at me different…he’s looking at me right now, I can feel it.  What’s happening - why am I struggling with this? Sometimes I’m sad when I don’t see him or hear from him for a while…be cool, Bridget.  Don’t be awkward. This is Chris – one of your best friends!

Lately she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about move in day, when she and Chris met. Her mind always traveled back to the kiss they shared on the rooftop their very first night together at Hartfeld.  After the kiss that night, she laid awakethinking about their future and all the opportunities that were waiting for her.She was sure that Chris was her one true love and they’d be collegesweethearts, living out their 4 years at university together and riding offinto the sunset at graduation to live their lives and start another adventuretogether.  As things began to unravelwith Becca, the sorority, writing for Vasquez and meeting James, Chris fadedmore and more into the background.

Bridget was lost in her thoughts again before a sharp pain interrupted them. “Ow!”She seethed, quickly dropping the carrot and the peeler into the sink with aloud clang.  

“Shoot.” She muttered, clasping her hand.  “I always do this.”

“You okay?” Chris dropped his gym bag by the door and walkedquickly to her side.  “What’d you do?”

“I’m fine, thanks, it’s stupid.  The peeler missed the carrot and got myfinger.” She smiled sheepishly. “I wasn’t paying attention.”  

Her knuckle was bleeding, but she ran it undersome water anyway.  “So – how waspractice?” She asked again, trying to find a way to fill the void or ease thetension or whatever it was that was happening lately between them.

“Eh, it was alright.” Chris shrugged, opening therefrigerator and scratching the back of his head, absentmindedly.  

He didn’t know what he was looking for. He wasn’t hungry. Hewasn’t thirsty.  He felt like he was in afog.  It took every ounce of strength to take his eyes or hismind off of Bridget. And he didn’t want to.

Look at what I missed out on. He toldhimself.  I don’t know how much longer I can do this…the more time we spendtogether, the more I realize how much I like her…but James. He’s my friend too!And she adores him…look at what she’s done for him…wish it was for me…it couldhave been for me…if I wasn’t so stupid…

“Just alright?” Bridget persisted, wrapping a paper towelaround her injured finger.

Chris snapped out of his mental diatribe with the refrigerator door still open. Without lookingaway from the fridge he answered, “We ended early – it got really hot inside thepractice facility and people were getting sick, so coach called it.  No one drinks enough water.” He grabbed abeer from the fridge and cracked it open.

Bridget raised an eyebrow, looked down at the can and thenback up at him, “Thank goodness you’re perfect, then.” She smirked, biting herbottom lip to stifle a laugh.

“Hey.” He raised the can as if to toast her, “I earned thistoday.”  He took a long sip, let out asatisfied sigh and moved closer to her, as if he all of a sudden mustered upcourage.  He held his breath whilereaching out for her arm.

Her back was to him as she used one hand to mix the contentsof the salad bowl, when he gently grabbed her elbow, trying to force her toturn around.  “Let me see your wound.”

Bridget closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, feeling his skinagainst hers.  “It’s really nothing…” Shesaid slowly, almost whispering as she turned to face him.  

His eyes locked with hers as he took her hand in his.  “Bridget, I’m in love with you.” Chrissighed, but kept his eyes focused on her face. 

“I can’t believe I just saidthat out loud…” He glanced at the floor for a moment, scared, but determined.

“I have to tell you this now, or I’m never going to.  Every day I find myself more and more attracted to you. Themore I get to know you, the more I see of you, the closer we become…” Hetrailed off, still holding her hand, the damp paper towel around her finger,now unraveling a bit.

Bridget couldn’t help her eyes from growing wide. “Chris. I…we…”She stammered, inhaling sharply, not knowing what to say. The two of them werecloser together now, facing each other.  

“I’m so confused.” She confessed, breathlessly.  “What…what’sgoing on between us?”  

“Very good question, Bridget.  That’s what I’d like to know.” James voiceechoed in the quiet house as he stood in the entry to the kitchen, waiting foran answer.

—

Shout out to my girl @joyfulchoices who has taught me and given me a whole new appreciation for Mr. Christopher Powell. Thank you, friend!

[shuturquibble]

Blessed

Fandom: Love Live! Sunshine!! Pairing: ChikaRiko subtext Words: 825 Summary:  In which Riko is thankful for everything and everyone. Links: FF is here! AO3 is here!

Riko knew she was blessed.

She had a roof over her head, food to eat, a family that supported her with everything she set her mind to, a good education, and the luxury to explore her hobbies and herself at her own leisure. She was well-off and financially stable, money being nothing but a small problem to her as she went about life. She had morals and ideals she held to her chest, showing kindness to the many people that showered her with generosity.

And, of course, she was blessed with the greatest people she was proud to call friends.

They were a strange bunch, Riko had to admit. After all, no one in their right mind would call a mikan-obsessed leader, a uniform-obsessed right-hand man, an industrial metal-loving school director, a motherly scuba diver, a closeted idol lover, an overly-shy girl, a bookworm, and a not-too-discreet chuunibyou normal at all. If anything, Riko should have been the outlier in this unique bunch. She had nothing outstanding about her, except for, perhaps, the fact she played piano (and that she secretly enjoyed a certain genre of manga, but none of them needed to know that).

But all eight of them, led by that amazing leader, welcomed her with open arms and cherished and loved her as if they knew her all their lives.

Riko would be lying if she said she wanted to cry every time she thought about how blessed she was to know these people.

Her days have been brighter ever since she joined Aqours, her laughs ringing through the air whenever she messed up during practice on the rooftop. Her afternoons have been busier ever since she joined Aqours, her frustrations rising as she forced herself to compose, only to have Chika and the others drag her out for a much-needed break. Her evenings have been more eventful ever since she joined, her smiles growing whenever she glanced at her phone to see Chika and Dia bickering in the group text with Kanan and You acting as mediators while Mari and Yoshiko acted as instigators.

Riko’s life was bursting at the seams with happiness, love, and hope whenever she was with Aqours.

“Riko-chan? Are you okay?”

Riko blinked, her thoughts coming to an abrupt halt as she turned away from the sun hiding behind the ocean. Chika was standing beside her now, her hair messier than usual due to practice and the light ocean breeze. Riko smiled when she noticed how red Chika’s cheeks were—Riko admired how hard Chika pushed herself during practice.

“I’m fine,” Riko said as she turned back to the view. The sun was almost gone now, its rays leaving streaks of orange that gradually faded to pink. “I was just thinking.”

“If you’re still worried about the getting the steps right, it’s okay. We’re still learning.”

Riko chuckled as she shook her head. “I’m not thinking about that. I’m thinking about something else.”

“What’s that?”

Riko turned back to look at Chika. “How blessed I am to have met all of you.”

In the distance, she could hear the laughter of the others ringing through the air, followed by a screech that surely came from Dia. A moment of silence passed between the both of them before they burst into a fit of giggles.

“You think about that, too?” Chika asked as she settled down.

“Wait, you do, too?” Riko said with mild surprise, her eyes growing wide as her smile faded.

Chika’s smile, on the other hand, never went away as she turned towards the sunset. “Of course. I think about the future of Aqours, and how everyone is doing, and how I need to be there for everyone. I think about how much everyone wants to do this with their best foot forward. I think about how our hearts are reaching for the future with all of their might, and how no matter what happens, we’ll be holding each other’s hands as we move forward. Whenever I think that, I realize how all of our feelings turned into one.”

Riko let out a small breath of amusement. “That sounds like it would make a good song, actually.”

“What would?” Chika asked as she looked at Riko confusedly.

“The last couple of lines that you said. The ones about our hearts and the future, and how we’ll move on while holding each other’s hands,” Riko explained. “It really conveys what I’ve been feeling, lately.”

“Well,” Chika said as she reached out to intertwine their fingers together, “I’m glad that we feel the same way.”

Riko squeezed Chika’s hand, and she felt Chika squeeze back. “I am, too. I’m glad that our feelings became one.”

They fell silent once again, and together, the both of them watched the sun set and the sky turn into a peculiar, yet not unpleasant shade of light pink, their hands never letting go of one another.

Riko was truly, truly blessed.

hi. it's been a while. this month has certainly been a ride - this is actually the first story i got finished this month. and i actually finished it in an hour! i'm so happy.

to those who don't follow the seiyuus of the franchise, aqours had their first live! and during one of the songs, omoi yo hitotsu ni naru, riko's va was playing the piano, but messed up and had a panic attack. chika's va immediately went up to her to comfort riko, as did several others, and while she calmed down, the audience changed the color of their kingblades to sakura pink, riko's image color. they were cheering for her and eventually she strong enough to continue with the performance. this story was based off that incident. as a performer, i know how hard it is to perform, especially when under immense pressure. i really feel what riko went through. my heart aches for her so much i actually tear up when i think about it, lol.

and, if i'm being honest, this work is also has a message that i wanted to send to my readers. this is my 50th work on fanfiction, this month has been a struggle for me in more ways than one. i know it's frustrating when an author doesn't update for a long period of time, but i would like to thank all of you for being patient and having my back along the way. i'm truly humbled and blessed to have you guys supporting me.

this story also serves as a birthday gift to my friend. follow her on tumblr idiototakus. she also has an ff account named Sensitive Soybean. check her out. and thank you for having my back - i'm blessed to have known you for this long.

i hope life treats you well - all of you deserve it.