#like um. gender is all fun and good until you bring bars and all things associated into the picture.

[bigfishthemusical]

>_< ok whatever going with my friends to the gay bar to see a show and then we are staying out tomorrow night and I’m going to be so brave and after I’m finished I will become a recluse and not speak to a single person for an entire month. No one should perceive me ever.

[ifmywishescametrue]

i don't know if you're still taking prompts (so please ignore this if you aren't) but i cant stop thinking about your recent buckytony fic (and how much i love breaking up and making up as a trope) - so i was wondering if you'd be up for doing smth else w that trope for buckytony?? maybe they re-unite at a mutual friend's wedding?? and it brings up emotions about their almost wedding?? idk i just really love breaking up and making up as a trope and i really love your writing :))

thank you!! I'm very much up for doing another buckytony break up/make up, plus you deserve nice things for finishing law school - congrats on that!🎉🎉hope you like this one 😊

There's a ring on Bucky's finger.

It's the first thing Tony notices when he walks into the bar for Natasha and Sharon's joint bachelorette party. He stands there in the doorway, frozen and staring until someone clears their throat pointedly behind him, and he mumbles an apology as he moves out of the way.

He thinks about turning around and not coming back, just ditching the event entirely and maybe even the wedding tomorrow, but he tosses the ridiculous thought the second it comes. He promised Sharon when she asked him to be her man of honor that he could handle Bucky being Nat's. Living on the other side of the country afforded him to miss the rest of the events and planning along the way, and he could deal with one day of being cordial to his ex, even if the day comes with walking down an aisle together.

But now there's a ring on Bucky's finger.

The silver catches the light, and it's on prominent display with his left hand wrapped around a beer bottle. It shouldn't be possible for him to have moved on that quickly. Eight months shouldn't be long enough to bury three years of memories. Three years of hopes and dreams and plans for a future built together. Years of love so blindingly intense that it burrowed into Tony's soul to make a home and refused to be evicted just because it was supposed to be over.

Tony wonders what the timeline is. Did he find someone new while Tony was still just beginning to pick up his own scattered pieces? A first date for him while Tony was barely getting out of bed. When was it that he replaced Tony as the last person to have his heart? And how did he find forever in someone else so soon after losing the one he used to call his soulmate?

Natasha notices him first, still hovering near the entrance, and she raises a single eyebrow that calls him a coward. He rolls his eyes at the accusation, though it's accurate. She elbows Sharon to catch her attention, and before he knows it the entire small group is turning their heads his way, giving him no choice but to join them.

It's less bachelorette party and more pre-wedding celebration with the crowd they've gathered, all mutual friends of both brides with no regards for gender traditions that usually come with this night. Tony used to fit in well with them all, back when gatherings like this were just a typical Friday night. But he made himself an outsider between the move to California and the breakup with Bucky. All he has now with most of them is a dead group chat that hasn't been used in months. He wonders which one of them made the new one without him in it.

Sharon is the first to pull him into a hug, then Natasha follows suit. He gets a nod from Sam, a wave from Clint, and what might pass as a smile from Steve. Bucky stares so intensely that Tony can feel his eyes with his back turned, but when Tony looks his way, he pretends to be interested in the floor.

He had a plan before the ring threw him off. Step one should have been the entrance. Head held high, shoulders square, perfect outfit that shows everything off and compliments the Malibu tan he has now. Step two should be nonchalance. A light hearted greeting to everyone, accompanied by an easy grin and relaxed body language, and catching up with subtle brags slipped in. Show them all that he's doing better than he ever was, sitting on top of the world these days, even if most of the time it feels like he's barely above rock bottom.

Step three in his ideal scenario involved Bucky breaking down and begging to get him back. Some versions even had him on his knees for it, with tears running down his face. Others required it to be raining outside, and the cloudless sky ruined that before the ring on Bucky's finger did.

With steps one and three out the window, he tries to salvage step two.

“Hey,” Tony starts, a little too loud. He swallows the lump in his throat and tries again, “Hey, Bucky. It's good to see you.”

Bucky nods, a strained, jerky motion. “Yeah, you too. How, uh, how have you been?”

“Good. Really good, actually. Company just had its highest sales quarter yet, so it’s been a little crazy around there, but good.”

“Good,” Bucky repeats, and there’s a long awkward pause.

“And what about you?” Tony asks, and then because he can’t help himself, he adds, “I see you got engaged. Or, hell, I guess it could be married, even.”

Bucky freezes with parted lips and wide eyes for the briefest of moments, like he wasn’t expecting Tony to know about it or bring it up, and his eyes shift to the ring on his hand and stay there.

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “Engaged. Last week.”

Tony ignores the ache in his chest and plasters on a smile like he’s happy for him. “Congratulations. Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t know him. Steve introduced us. They work together.”

“So he’s at the museum then? I thought you used to say that you hated all those stuffy guys and Steve was the only one worth knowing.”

Bucky smiles, a fond thing that widens the crack in Tony’s heart. “Yeah, well, I guess I was wrong. Felix is a great guy.”

Tony resists the urge to roll his eyes. Stupid name that probably matches a stupid, punchable face.

Some masochist thing pulls at him to make him keep digging for more information, a twisted need to know even as each word pushes the knife in deeper. He aims for casual, leaning back against one of the high top tables as he asks, “So how long have you been together?”

“Just a couple of months. Kind of fast, I know, but when you’re sure about something, it doesn’t really matter, right? Why waste time waiting?”

“Right, of course,” Tony says, a little flatter than he intends. “So why isn’t he here tonight? Hope it wasn’t to spare my feelings, because it’s really not necessary.”

Bucky falters, “It’s not? You, uh, you’re dating someone, then?”

Tony nods, and he wishes he had grabbed a drink before this so he could hide behind it as he lies through his teeth. “Only a few weeks, though. A little too early to be a wedding date, but I’m sure your guy will be there tomorrow right?”

“Oh, um, yeah, definitely. Why wouldn’t he be, right? There’s no reason I can think of,” Bucky says, stumbling around it. “But tell me more about your thing. Your person. How’s that going?”

Tony shrugs, and he finally pulls off that easy smile he’s been trying for. “Well, it’s not get engaged in a couple of months good, but it’s been really great. We’re taking it slow. Trying not to rush anything and just get to know each other first. I think it could really be something, though.”

“That’s good,” Bucky mumbles. “You deserve something good.”

He isn’t meeting Tony’s eyes anymore, almost like he’s upset that Tony moved on, and the vindictive part of Tony wants to be happy about it, but another part wants to be angry because it isn’t fair. It’s not fair to act like Tony should stay stuck in time, forever longing for him when he already moved on with someone else first. It’s hypocritical and selfish, even if Tony is lying about there being anyone else.

“Well, I’m gonna go get a drink,” Tony says, pushing down every feeling. “Should catch up with everyone else, too, while I’m at it. I’ll talk to you later.”

He heads over to the bar and isn’t surprised when Sharon joins him a moment later, right after he orders a double shot of whiskey. She puts an arm around his shoulder and asks, “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Tony laughs, running a hand through his hair. “My ex is engaged to somebody else and apparently doing really fucking well. Meanwhile, I’m making up fake boyfriends that I’m taking it slow with, because last week I went on my first real date in eight months and cried in the bathroom in the middle of it. And then, at the end of the night, he literally told me to my face that he didn’t think a second date was a good idea. We weren’t even talking about it, Sharon. He said it unprompted when we were still ten minutes from his apartment, and I was driving.”

Sharon nods slowly as she processes the rant. “He told you he got engaged?”

“Yeah, thanks for not telling me, by the way. It was really fun to get blindsided by it.”

She ignores the complaint to ask, “What else did he tell you, exactly?”

“Oh, just the whole line about how you know when you know, and Felix is such a great guy, and all that bullshit.”

“Felix,” Sharon repeats.

Tony knocks back the rest of his drink and orders another. “Please tell me he’s not better looking than me. Tell me it’s a downgrade. Don’t lie, because I know I have to meet him tomorrow, but please give me something that will make this better.”

“Well, I can guarantee he’s not as attractive as you. But he’s a little too perfect, you know? Like how could this guy possibly be real, he’s so unbelievably perfect,” Sharon says.

“I told you to make me feel better, not worse.”

Sharon shakes her head with a smile, the arm around him tightening into an approximation of hug. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. I don’t think they’re going to last. He’s kind of flaky, too. Always cancelling at the last minute and all that. Bet he won’t even show tomorrow.”

The amusement on her face that she’s failing to hide confuses him. He’s starting to feel bad, though, for making the night about him when it should be about her and Nat.

Resolving not to dwell on it anymore, he squeezes the hand on his shoulder and says, “Alright, enough sad drinking, and definitely enough about me. We’re celebrating you and Nat and a lifetime of sickeningly wonderful happiness for both of you.”

Sharon grins, “Hell yeah, we are.”

“Shots?”

“Is that even a question?”

_____________

He wakes up with a headache and hazy memories. Shots of tequila that turned into shots of vodka when Nat got involved, then Clint’s terrible suggestion to try a shot of every liquor they had to offer. He vaguely remembers the round of toasts and drunken impromptu speeches from everyone, locking eyes with Bucky and failing to look away on both their parts. There’s a blur of wandering hands and heated, messy kisses. A bathroom stall turned into a cab ride which turned into his hotel room. He knows what he’ll find next to him when he opens his eyes, and guilt comes in full force.

“I know you’re awake,” Bucky says, voice still rough with sleep. It used to be Tony’s favorite sound in the world. “And I know we’re both sorry about what happened, but pretending to be asleep isn’t fixing nothin’.”

Tony shifts over to his back, and if there was any question before about what happened between them, the all too familiar ache in his body would answer it. He stares up at the ceiling to avoid the acres of bare skin on display next to him.

“You should probably leave,” Tony says to the walls. “I’m sure your fiancé is wondering where you are.”

“I doubt it.”

Tony puts an arm over his eyes, partly to block out the light that makes them ache and partly to hide his face. “Just go, okay? It was a mistake, and it won’t happen again, and we don’t have to talk about it.”

“Was it a mistake?” Bucky asks. “It didn’t feel like one to me.”

He doesn’t answer, and it’s soft and broken when Bucky says his name. Too much for him to handle.

Tony pushes back the blankets and searches for Bucky’s clothes in the mess they’ve made. He finds the shirt first and throws it at him. “You’re engaged, which means it was a mistake.”

His boxers are on the back of the couch, jeans right in front of the door, and they join the pile on Bucky’s lap. “You promised the rest of your life to somebody else, and I’m pretty sure fidelity is supposed to go with that.”

He tosses a shoe in the general direction of the bed, and it hits the nightstand with a loud thud. The second shoe is still in his hand when Bucky gets up and walks over to him, taking it and letting it drop to the floor.

His eyes hold a level of intensity that Tony has spent months dreaming about, and Tony couldn’t look away or move from this spot even if he tried.

“Felix isn’t real,” Bucky says. “I made him up when you asked, because I didn’t want to tell you the truth that I haven’t moved on in the slightest. That I’m so pathetic that I’ve spent the last eight months wearing an engagement ring that I bought for a guy who doesn’t love me anymore because I don’t know how to let him go.”

Tony stops breathing. “What?”

Bucky slides the ring from his finger, holding it between them so Tony can see the inscription. Always yours. He can’t remember the last time he heard the words get spoken.

“When?” Tony asks hoarsely. “When did you get that and why didn’t you ever ask me?”

“About a year ago,” Bucky says, slipping it back on his own finger. He sits back on the edge of the bed and stares down at it, twisting it around. “I thought about doing it on your birthday, but Nat and Sharon had just gotten engaged the week before and I didn’t want to take anything away from them. You were working a lot of late nights after that, and I thought it would be better to wait until things slowed down. You were so tired all the time, and you deserved a better proposal than when you’re falling asleep in the middle of dinner. It never slowed down, though. And then you got that big promotion and somehow we fell apart instead. If I’m honest, I still don’t really know how. One minute I’m getting ready to come with you, and the next you’re telling me not to bother.”

Tony sits down next to him, shoulders touching, and he pulls Bucky’s left hand into his. “You didn’t really want to go.”

“That’s not true,” Bucky says, but Tony shakes his head.

“All you talked about was how much you would miss New York. How much you’d miss your friends and your family and your job. Every day, everywhere we went. Even the fucking hot dog stands got sonnets about them. It really didn’t take a genius to figure out that you weren’t exactly looking forward to leaving.”

“I still would have gone for you,” Bucky argues. “I told you I would go anywhere with you, if it was what you wanted.”

“And then what? You move with me, and you’re miserable all the time, because my job never slows down so I’m still not around as much as you want, except now it’s compounded because you’re in a city that you hate with no one else that you know. You resent me for making you go, and the outcome is the same in the end either way.”

“Or I move with you, and I finally ask you to marry me like I’ve wanted to since almost the day we met. I find new friends and a new job, and even if it’s not perfect, it’s still worth it because at the end of the day I have a husband coming home to me.”

Tony runs his thumb over the ring and murmurs, “I wanted you to be happy. I didn’t think I could do that for you anymore.”

Bucky cups his cheek, tilting his head up to meet his eyes. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but baby, you’re an idiot.”

“Oh, thanks,” Tony laughs.

“You’re my idiot, if that helps.”

Tony smiles, still fragile but growing more hopeful. “Am I?”

“Always have been,” Bucky says. “Always will be if you stop assuming I’m going to leave you all the time. Let me decide for myself what I’m willing to sacrifice for us.”

Tony nods slowly, then says, “I’m sorry for ending it like that.”

“I’m sorry for making you feel like you had to.”

Tony climbs into his lap, circling his arms around his neck, and Bucky pulls him in closer with his hands on Tony’s hips. The ring is strange to feel against his skin, but also completely right. He wants it to stay there and to mean what it was always supposed to. Wants one of his own to match.

“We can fix it, right? We can be us again?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky says, and Tony’s heart sinks for just a moment. “Is your boyfriend as real as my fiancé?”

Tony laughs again in relief, “Yeah, they’d be a good pair.”

“I knew you had to be lying. You’ve never taken it slow in your life,” Bucky grins.

“Do you want me to start now?”

Bucky flips them over in one fluid motion, and he kisses up his throat as he murmurs, “Absolutely not.”

[inawickedlittletown]

Baked With Love (Destiel fic) - 1/5

Summary: Dean never met Lisa's neighbor, but he knew one thing: whoever it was, they could bake. After breaking up with Lisa, the one thing Dean misses is her neighbor's pie. After finally meeting him, Cas' pie is not the only thing Dean likes.

On Ao3 

------

The weird thing about the end of a relationship was all the little things that suddenly just came to an end. Things like Sunday brunch and dinner dates at restaurants that Dean would have never stepped foot in before. The best things to end were the arguments when Lisa would get mad every single week about Dean’s standing bar night with Sam. Or how often Lisa had expected Dean to get her flowers. In some ways, it was strange to re-calibrate to having free time again, but in the best way. 

Dean found himself at The Roadhouse on a Wednesday night — something that would have never occurred while he was dating Lisa. Wednesday was not his and Sam’s usual night, but his brother met him there anyway. 

“How are you holding up?” Sam asked after they were already a few beers in. 

“What do you mean?” 

“The break up, dude,” Sam said. “It’s been what? Two weeks?” 

The thing that really cemented for him that he’d done the right thing breaking up with Lisa was that he didn’t even miss her. Dean had expected to, but the loss of the relationship didn’t really hurt. It was nothing like his last serious relationship with Cassie and maybe that was why Sam was so concerned. Cassie had broken him. It had been a long time after Cassie before Dean felt like he could do more than a one night stand. It was why Lisa had felt different, Dean had wanted more from her and yet somehow things just hadn’t worked. If he really had to think about it, he couldn’t even say that he missed the sex and considering how bendy Lisa was, that was saying something. 

“I’m alright, Sammy,” Dean said. “I don’t think I actually let myself get attached, if I’m honest.” 

Sam nodded. 

“But, I do miss one thing,” Dean said. He took a gulp of his beer. 

Sam made a face. “Ew, Dean!”

“What? No….I mean, she did yoga. But, no, I miss the pie.” 

“Lisa baked?” Sam asked, his eyebrow raised.

Dean couldn’t help but laugh. “No. Definitely not. But she had this neighbor. I never met them, but every Friday they brought Lisa some sort of baked good. Sam, it was the best pie that I have ever tasted. Better than mom’s even. And now, no more pie.”

“Wow,” Sam said. 

The crust had been flaky and sweet. The apples had had a crunch to them and there had been so much care put to the spices and the flavor. Dean had never believed in a higher power and yet eating that pie had felt like a religious experience. 

—

A month after the break up, Dean ran into Lisa. He really should have known better than to stop at the cafe near the yoga studio, but Dean had been desperate for caffeine and it was a better option than Starbucks. While he was there, he couldn’t help but notice the pies on display and so he indulged in a slice of cherry pie. It left Dean on his own at a round table waiting for the coffee to kick in and savoring his pie. It wasn’t an amazing pie, but it was still pie. He was so single-focused on the pie that he almost didn’t see her at first, but then he looked up and spotted her. 

She wore yoga leggings and a sports bra. Her hair was tied back into a neat ponytail and she was laughing with a gaggle of her yoga friends. Dean had met a few of them and he wasn’t ever going to be able to tell them apart. 

As she turned to get into the line, her eyes swept right over Dean and then came back to him. Dean lifted his hand in an awkward wave. He didn’t expect Lisa to do more than similarly acknowledge him, but instead she headed his way. 

“Dean,” she said. 

“Hi,” Dean said back. “How, um, how have you been?”

Lisa actually smiled at him. “I’m alright. We had fun there for a while. And I just wanted to say, no hard feelings.” 

“Good. Yeah. Uh, you too.” 

Lisa pointed at the last few bites of Dean’s pie. “My neighbor came by last night and left me a loaf of banana bread. I had to bring it into yoga class because you weren’t around to eat it all.” 

Dean chuckled. “Your neighbor should open up their own bakery. I would be their number one customer.” 

“I don’t doubt that,” Lisa said. 

“And, uh, you know, since no hard feelings and all, if your neighbor bakes a pie any time soon I am definitely available to take it off your hands. If that isn’t, you know, weird.” 

Lisa actually threw her head back and laughed. “Do you want my neighbor’s number? Get you right to the source?” 

He should have felt weird about it, especially because in the entire time that Dean had dated Lisa, he’d never actually seen Lisa’s neighbor. He’d always pictured the neighbor as a nice older woman who lived alone and didn’t have anyone to share her baking with. 

“Look, Cas is a sweetheart and it won’t be weird or anything.” 

Maybe, it would be less weird than using Lisa as some sort of go between. No matter how amicable their break up had been, Dean figured they probably shouldn’t see much of each other. 

“Alright, then,” Dean said.

Lisa nodded. She grabbed her phone out and a moment later Dean had a text with Cas’ phone number.

—

It was almost a month later when Dean saw Lisa again. This time, it was because she was having car trouble and didn’t know where else to go but to the only mechanic that Lisa knew: Dean. 

Dean co-owned Singer Auto. It had once belonged to his uncle, Bobby Singer. Bobby wasn’t even really his uncle by blood, but he’d been a family friend for so long that everyone considered Bobby family. When Bobby decided to retire a few years earlier, he’d offered Dean the shop. It was Dean that insisted on buying it from him. Bobby had eventually been worn down to selling half the business to Dean. 

Dean ran the day to day, but Bobby stopped in every once in a while — when he got bored mostly — and did a bit here and there. Business was going well. 

Lisa’s car had been in good shape when Dean was dating her, but when she called him up, it was because her car wasn’t starting. Dean talked her through tightening up the battery terminals but the car still didn’t start. 

“You might need a new battery,” Dean said. 

Before Dean could offer to head to her place to jump the battery and get the car over to the shop, Lisa told her her neighbor had just come out and offered to do it. 

“And I’ll just drive it straight over to you.” 

Lisa arrived not long after and with her came a tupperware container of chocolate chip cookies. 

“From my neighbor,” Lisa said. “I asked and Cas said you never called.” 

It wasn’t that Dean had forgotten as much as that he’d felt awkward calling someone he didn’t really know just to ask them if he could buy some pie from them. He was sort of rethinking Cas being an older grandma type, though, what with the whole giving Lisa’s car a jump thing. Maybe Cas was younger than Dean expected, or a woman that knew how to bake and their way around a car. 

“Call Cas, Dean,” Lisa said. “It would be rude not to. Cas is expecting a call.” 

Replacing her battery didn’t take long and Lisa reminded him to call her neighbor again before she left. The taste of Cas’ cookies after they were all gone later that day made him decide that he would call Lisa’s neighbor. 

—

He sent a text instead of calling. He did it early, right between breakfast and leaving for work. A kind of rip the band-aid off type of thing. 

Hi. This is Dean.

And then because that felt like not enough at all. He sent a second: 

Lisa gave me your number because of how much I gush about your pie. 

Hope this isn’t weird. 

And when that didn’t seem like enough either.

Feel free to ignore me if this is too strange to you, but I am very willing to pay you to bake me a pie. 

He read them all over a couple of times before sending one last text. 

Thank you. And promise, I’m just very enthusiastic about pie. 

After that, he just dropped his phone on the couch next to him and groaned. He wanted to take back all the texts. Lisa’s neighbor was going to think he was crazy.

By the time Dean set off to work, he had no response which was probably for the better. 

Work was busy that day. It was a constant. They had a bunch of appointments lined up. Some easy jobs like doing an oil change, but others were more complicated — the type of thing that would take days to finish. Then, there were the people that just stopped by on the chance that Dean or one of his mechanics were free. So, Dean didn’t get to glance at his phone once the whole morning. And because Sam showed up during his lunch, he didn’t look at it then either. 

It wasn’t until he got home, after a long shower to get rid of all the grime and the smell of motor oil that clung to him, that Dean even glanced at his phone. 

Hello, Dean. 

Lisa mentioned I might get a call from you. Your texts were a humorous way to start my morning. It is not weird to be complimented on something I love to do. Baking is a passion of mine. I would love to bake you a pie. Lisa mentioned my apple double crust was your favorite. 

Payment is not necessary. Friday is the earliest I will have time, if that works for you. I’ll have it ready for you to pick up by six. 

-Cas

Cas sounded formal. It was hard to infer age or gender, but Dean supposed none of that mattered when it came to it, not when this Cas person could bake a pie that was rivaled by no other. 

I would feel weird not paying you for all that hard work. Friday is great. Thanks again. 

Dean was going to make sure he gave Cas something for the pie. The whole thing already felt a little strange, but for Dean it would feel even stranger to take the pie for free. 

When he and Sam met up that night, Dean didn’t bring up the whole weirdness with Lisa’s neighbor, but when Sam asked if Dean wanted to do something on Friday night he turned him down. 

“What, you have a date or something?” Sam asked. 

Dean denied it, but his brother didn’t seem to actually believe him. 

—

On Friday, it was Cas that texted Dean first, with an address to the house on the right of Lisa’s, as well as confirmation for pick up any time after six. Dean read the text over his lunch and he texted an affirmative before he got back to work. 

The shop closed at five. Dean went home and got showered and cleaned up. And because it felt like he’d come off as too eager to show up at six on the dot, he busied himself cleaning his kitchen and getting his laundry sorted so he could put it in the wash later. After that, he went through the pile of mail that he hadn’t looked at all week. It was almost seven when he texted Cas to let him know he was on his way. 

Cas’ house looked almost identical to Lisa’s and all the other houses on that street. A neat lawn in the front, a Victorian style with a large porch, a detached garage in front of which sat an electric blue Jeep. Not the type of car that should have belonged to the middle aged woman that Dean had been expecting. He parked his car on the street, feeling just a little strange that he wasn’t pulling into Lisa’s driveway. A glance over there told Dean that Lisa wasn’t home. 

As he walked up, the first thing that Dean noticed was that Cas’ mailbox was shaped like a bee. It was really well made and adorable to boot. 

He gave the doorbell a ring and didn’t wait long for someone to come to the door. As the door pulled open, Dean was startled by a car screeching by. He turned away, looking out as a Honda Civic narrowly missed Dean’s Impala as it drove off. For a moment, Dean had almost stopped breathing. 

“I don’t know how that kid managed to get his license,” a voice from behind him said. A deep, masculine voice. 

Dean turned, slowly. Cas had stepped out and Dean’s breath caught. 

Cas was a man that stood almost at Dean’s height. His dark hair was tousled, his eyes were the bluest eyes that Dean had ever seen, and over a lean and muscular frame, he wore an apron that in cursive letters said “Save The Bees”. 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said and his chapped lips broke into a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “I’m actually a little behind, so your pie just made it into the oven. But, come on in.”

“Uh,” Dean couldn’t find words. How had Lisa not told him that her neighbor was a guy. A very attractive guy. 

-

Part Two

[sissytobitch10seconds]

The Skirt

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia Summary: Denki wears a skirt in front of her classmates for the first time. Warnings: Coming out, genderfluid character Word Count: 1,796 Ships: Kamanari Denki/Sero Hanta

Archive link!

“You can do this, you can do this,” she chanted to herself over and over again. Despite the affirming words, her hands hovered over the handle to the door. She could do it, she could leave her room and go downstairs. It wouldn’t be any different than it had been the other dozens of times that she had done it. 

“Except this time it’ll be completely different,” she removed her hand from the doorknob completely and sat down heavily on her bed. “Everything’ll be different.”

Panic began to creep up from her stomach and sit heavily in her chest. She ran a hand shakily through her hair, though she was careful to avoid the cute clips that she had worked so hard to get into her hair in a way that didn’t look stupid. A couple more deep breaths had the panic simmering back down for the time being. She could tell that it was there, resting in the background and waiting to spring back up and choke her at any moment, but it was dormant for now.

“Come on, you’ve been female for a week now. You can wear a skirt in front of your classmates and ask to be called your proper pronouns,” she encouraged herself. “Kyouka promised that she’d be there for you if things go badly anyway. You can do this. It won’t be like last time. They’re heroes, they’re not going to be transphobic.”

The other voice in the back of her mind, the one that had stopped her from doing this up until now, spoke up again. It reminded her that genderfluidity wasn’t really accepted as an identity by quite a lot of queer people, and that it was a burden to ask people to remember the correct pronouns when they changed so often.

She didn’t get much of a chance to mull that over as someone knocked on the door. She sat upright as panic fluttered throughout her again, but it quickly settled down as she heard the voice of her childhood friend. “Hey, you missed breakfast. I’m heading to class now, but I’m going to force a granola bar into you during break,” she promised. 

The other teenager heard Kyouka’s hurried footsteps as her childhood friend left to go to class. Denki let out a small hiss. She was hoping that she would have been able to get some of the reaction out of the way before class started, but she had waited too long and now everyone would see her at the same time.

She stood up, a fierce determination taking over her. She flung the door to her room open and fled down the hall after making sure it was securely latched. She was going to do this, she wouldn’t chicken out. She had Kyouka by her side, and she logically couldn’t be the only trans or queer person at this school. Hopefully whoever the other queer people were would recognize that her gender and feelings were real and back her up. If they didn’t at least she had Kyouka.

The trip across the campus was quick and painless. There were very few people traveling over the green or on any of the sidewalks, and those that were didn’t recognize her and she didn’t recognize them. The nervousness that she had been feeling all morning returned to her when she reached the door. She puffed up her chest, smiling slightly as the shirt hung over her differently, giving her the illusion of being physically female like she wished she could be at the moment.

The euphoria of looking like the gender she currently was inside let her open the door and she quickly walked inside. She could feel the eyes of her classmates following her, though there were still the normal speckled conversations that usually took place before their teacher woke up and began classes.

She sat down at her desk, placing her bag next to her. Panic was heavy in her chest but she was doing her best to keep it down and away from the surface. She was doing something that scared the shit out of her, and she couldn’t let them see weakness like she had done in middle school.

Nobody said anything, though more and more of the conversations were dying down as people realized that something was up. Soon she had nearly every single person looking at her, and it was really beginning to get to her. She shifted awkwardly, staring down at her lap. Her nervous mannerisms began to pick up and she started to brush her hands over her skirt and fiddle with the loose strings of her button up shirt.

“Uh, Denki?” someone finally spoke up.

The blond responded by snapping her head up and looking directly at who had spoken. Mina was sitting closest to her and had apparently been the one to finish reeling first too.

“Are you wearing a skirt?” Izuku asked from the other side of the room.

The blond shifted again, swallowing down nothing as she tried to dampen her nerves. She caught the confident smile that Kyouka was wearing and then nodded. “Yeah, I am. I’m wearing makeup too.”

“Why?” Hitoshi asked. 

“If my boyfriend wants to wear a skirt and makeup then he can, whenever he wants to,” Hanta said from behind Denki, immediately getting defensive of her.

Dysphoria flared up in her again as she shifted in her seat. “Actually, um, I’m wearing makeup and a skirt today because I’m a girl.”

“You are?” Hanta asked, blinking. He then panicked, “Not that that’s a bad thing! I just wasn’t expecting it. I still want to be here for you if you need me.”

“Well, I’m not a girl all the time,” the blond got out before any more of the chaos in the classroom could unfold. “I just… I’m genderfluid. It means that I feel like my gender changes. Sometimes I feel like both, sometimes I feel like neither, sometimes I feel female, sometimes I feel male. I know it’s kind of an annoying thing, so I’m not going to ask any of you to change pronouns all the time, but I just want to be myself.”

“Nonsense,” Tenya called over the top of the clamoring of voices from some of the students. “Everyone will respect Denki’s pronouns no matter how often they change, and if you don’t I have some firm words for you.”

“Yeah, same! Disrespect my friend and you and I are going to have a problem,” Eijirou called. “Transphobia is so unmanly!”

To her surprise, the next person from her friend group to speak up was Katsuki. “More than a problem. You might not live to see your birthday if you decide to disrespect her. Got it, you bunch of losers?”

“None of us want to disrespect her, Kacchan!” Izuku called, having become a lot more outward now that he was comfortable around the rest of the class. There were a couple of crows in agreement, before the conversations began to pick back up and people returned to what they were doing.

Momo was up from her chair and gathering Denki up in a hug. “Thank you for coming out to us, it means a lot. I have a couple tips and tricks for this kind of dysphoria if you ever want to spend some time together,” she beamed.

“Ooh! We should invite her to girl’s night on the weeks that she’s feeling like a girl!” Tooru clapped her hands together in excitement.

“Yeah, we could do your hair and paint your nails!” Ochako chimed in, looking just as giddy and excited. “I bet that you could give us some tips on eyeshadow too, you look really good today.”

“Thanks. I used to do it on my sisters and I guess I just got really good over time,” she flushed and rubbed the back of her neck in embarrassment. 

Tsuyu was the next one to speak. “Also, you don’t have to be female to come to girl’s night. You can be nonbinary or agender like me and still show up. It’s mostly just for us to do girly stuff like gossip and paint each other’s nails.”

“That sounds really nice,” she grinned. “I’m pretty good at painting nails and braiding hair.”

“This is going to be so much fun!” Mina grinned. “You and I have to go shopping the next time that we get a weekend outside of school. I want to have a fashion show with you.”

“Kyouka already took me shopping when I was in middle school, I’ve got some feminine clothes. And it’s not like I have much of an allowance to spend,” she shrugged awkwardly.

The pink teenager rolled her eyes. “My dads spoil me with a big allowance, and I’m sure that they’d be more than willing to help if I told them that it was to get clothes so that you would feel more comfortable!”

“Yeah, okay,” she nodded finally after a moment of deliberation. Mina quickly got caught up in a conversation with Tooru across the aisle about which shops that they should bring their new feminine friend to.

Denki jumped as she felt someone tap on her shoulder. She turned around to see her boyfriend sitting there with that stupid smile that he always got when he was looking at her. “Hey,” she whispered. “I hope that this isn’t too weird for you. And that you’re not mad I didn’t come out to you first.”

“It’s okay,” Hanta shook his head. “I now that coming out can be really difficult. It took me three years just to be able to tell my parents that I was questioning my sexuality, and even longer to admit to them that I was bi.”

She reached out to grasp the hand that was resting on his desk, threading their fingers together. “I just wanted to get it all done and out of the way at once. Coming out is so hard, so I wanted to do it once instead of half a dozen times.”

“I get that. Thanks for sharing this with us. I’ll try my best to remember your pronouns and change around some of the pet names that I use for you,” he brightened up. “Does this mean that I can finally experiment around with some of the girly ones?”

She laughed, “Yeah, it does.”

“Awesome,” he beamed, leaning across the desk to gently give her a kiss on her lips.

“I love you so much,” she giggled. “Thank you for being so supportive of me.”

“Of course. What kind of a boyfriend would I be if I wasn’t supportive?” Hanta snorted. His face softened and he rubbed the back of her knuckles with his thumb. “I love you too.”

[mochikeiji]

Just Say Yes

↠ Pairing: Bokuto Koutarou x Akaashi Keiji

↠ Warning: Royal AU! Slight nsfw mentioned, angst to fluff, mention of death, Songfic! Love Story by: Taylor Swift

↬ Word Count: 2,235

Summary: In between saving your own kingdom and throwing away your freedom, wouldn't you rather run away and be free like all the birds you see fly from your window up in a palace? Would you dare take another's hand as they lead you to another chapter of your life? Or would you stay forever held against your will as young prince Akaashi Keiji?

⇢ Day 9: Royal AU @bokuakaweek2020

✎﹏

Being the only son meant a lot of responsibilities. Whether you grew up from the villages or up in the palace, it was always like that for the eldest and only child.

"You are to be married next week, Akaashi. Your bride is a true gem and will serve as our palace and cities security."

What more can be shouldered in the stoic males shoulder than being his own father's pawn to his own game.

Nothing truly mattered to the king other than his own entitlement and grounds. Having to force his own son take on more and more duties and him to sit down and watch as things unfolf according to his desire.

"I refuse, father. I do not want to single handedly marry someone whom I have never encountered nor have developed such feelings with. It is unfair."

If only his mother were here, she would've said the same thing to her husband. But upon the death of the kingdom's queen casted a dark void to their king. Leaving the poor prince to be his only way of letting all emotions out on such reckless demands.

"You will do as you are told. This is for the good of our people and our kingdom standing. Do you want to see all this fall out of your own selfish desire?"

Had his father have the nerve to talk about such topic.

A true hypocrite.

"No father."

"Then you are dismissed."

Despite the sadness now slowly forming into a dam that is yet to crack, Akaashi held his head high as he passes by the royal guards, bowing before him as he made his way up to his room, walking a bit faster as to know he was a ticking bomb.

When he shuts the wooden door behind him, he slouches down against it, unable to bottle up all the pent emotions years had held.

How he truly wishes he could trade anything to have his mother here holding him in her arms again. But he knows that not even the amount of golds and diamonds are enough to bring the dead back.

He lets his tear fall from the silver object that was wrapped around his finger. A cheap knock off ring that was on sale from the village not too long ago.

Recalling the time he had snuck out that night of an event held inside the palace. He couldn't help but feel overwhelmed from the surrounding of those who wished to have their boots kissed and princesses swarming around him just for his hand in marriage, he went out in full cloack and straight to the festival that was held in the village.

He could never understand why his father didn't want to invite these people inside their humongous ball room. They seemed more fun and outgoing than the ones in full boast of their attire. The chuldren held some kind of stick that was lit with fire sparkling from the tip, people dancing in some kind of folklore but jolly tune, and there were so many stalls of food he wasn't allowed to try!

But what really made that night more surreal was when he had stumbled upon a small bar. Deciding to take a break from all of his wonderings, he was lost in the sight of so many unfamiliar dish being told to him.

"You're not from here, are you?"

He can remember his face getting pale. It was risky to have the prince spotted outside the palace. His father's rules including, "If thy prince is to be found wondering out of the palace, return thee at once and you shall be given an award for escorting him safely."

That person grabbed his wrist and ran out of that bar. He thought he was done for but quickly surged into panic when they both ran into another direction that led underneath the bridge. Was he going to eat the dust now?

"Here, you should be safe here, your highness."

The man had sat down on the grass, placing the sack he had been carrying when they ran out beside him, opening it gingerly to reveal the amount of food he had brought.

"I don't mind sharing but," Akaashi flinches when his golden eyes were more prompt from the moonlight, giving him that kind of dangerous look in them, "I know for one thing the palace doesn't allow you to eat this. It might be rubbish for you, but dig in to whatever suits your likings!" grinning, Akaashi was baffled by his kindess. His father would tell him stories about the villagers and them being nothing but cruel and savages to one another. But he was different. Come to think of it, everyone he had his eyes on the village seemed too different from the stories.

"Um." he watches as he scarfs down a loaf of bread, dipping it into some kind of white substance thag had green litterings on them.

"Hm? Oh, you wanna try the bread? Its good when you dip it in sour cream." ripping half of his bread, he hands one gently on Akaashi's palm, sliding in the dipping he was talking about. He knelts on the ground in wary, before he gives his bread a little dip in the cream and nibbles on it.

Eyes sparkling a bit at the foreign taste, he dips it once more and this time takes a bigger bite. At this moment, he didn't realized he was already starving so much.

"Good right? You should try it with the potato, it's amazing."

He gulps on his meal, giving the kind man a smile, "Thank you, for being so kind to me, um.." he trails off bashfully when he was given another one of his captivating grin.

"Bokuto, Bokuto Koutarou at your service."

And from that day he had his first meal outside the palace. His first time to ever talk to someone outside the palace and spent the entire evening with.

The day he found love.

Since then, they both made a tradition. Once a week Bokuto would help him sneak out of the palace and out to the outskirts of town where they can enjoy some time alone and explore places Akaashi wishes he could see. And most of the time, Bokuto would make his way up from the tallest tree to meet up with him from the castles balcony below his room.

It was terrifying to get caught, but what made it worthwhile was Akaashi's happiness and both of their romance blooming to one another.

He smiles sadly as he raises his finger to his eye level. The ring he was given by Bokuto, the symbol of his undying love for him, next week to be replaced by some golden band and to be owned by someone whom he will never let in his already taken heart.

"Hey, Akaashi. Gimme your hand for a second."

Both males sat on their usual spot underneath the bridge outside of town. It had been their go to since no one comes out of night.

"Are you going to place your chin again, Bokuto?"

The last time he asked for this was when he wanted to tease the prince by placing his chin on his palm and whisper an I love you to him just to see his face bloom into a pretty shade of red.

"Nooo, this is something else, trust me. You'll like it!"

Sighing but smiles at him, he obliged to his request and places his hand onto his callused palm, awaiting for his next move.

"Atleast, I hope you'll like it."

He looks up to his golden eyes, taken back a little when he sees how flustered Bokuto has gotten before feeling a cold metalic like band slid on his finger.

"Is this?"

"It's plastic, I know." he scratches the back of his head as Akaashi stares in awe at the ring, "It's not really something that should be given to someone who's from the royal palace, but I promise you this will change into a gold one soon one day."

Akaashi's cheeks flushed. Was this a pre proposal?

"Here," Bokuto shows him his hand, "I have the same one as you. This'll be our promise ring together."

The amount of love Akaashi can feel in his chest was starting to swell it made his eyes a bit teary. Yet for some reason he couldn't help but smile widely at the thought of getting away from his palace and start a new life with someone who he truly loves.

"I'll be the one who'll marry you. That's a promise."

(Romeo, save me, I've been feeling so alone)

He sobs at the last line he has stuck to his head, "I'm so sorry, Bokuto." afraid of what his father might have done if he was to find out he already has someone. Let alone the opposite gender, he knows behind bars wasn't going to be Bokuto's consequence.

He fears that if he were to tell his father he loves a man. A man outside the palace he would meet with the same faith as those who defiled the king. Losing another person he has loved and clung on will be the last thing to snap Akaashi from his own sanity.

And for one moment, he actually thought of marrying the woman he was told to if it meant Bokuto would stay alive until the very end.

(I keep waiting for you, but you never come)

"Akaashi?"

His body jolts from the sound coming from his balcony windows he has forgotten to close a while back. Eyes focused on the silhouette that was squated down outside, looking warily for any guards that were on patrol for the night.

Just as all hope was lost, he had forgotten that it was that time of the night Bokuto would sneak in his room like he always does to check on him and spend a little time before he leaves at dawn.

(Is this in my head? I don't know what to think)

Bokuto sprints inside his room quietly, quickly kneeling beside the sobbing prince and places his hands on his cheeks.

"Y-you,"

"I know," softly stroking his cheeks, he swipes away the sad tears, "I heard. That's why I came."

The dam finally broken, Akaashi breaks into another wave of sobs, wrecking his body as Bokuto shields him away from everything the world can offer, whispering sweet nothings into his ear as he weaves his fingers in his tossled hair.

Knowing his story, his past, Bokuto vowed he would take him away from all of this misery that has chained him up from his freedom from the world. That he will be the one to take care of him and tend to him unlike now where he was being left in the shadows as a worn out doll.

"Let's run away."

(He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring and said, )

Akaashi's eyes widened at his words. The fear striking back at him stronger.

"R-run? Run where?" his voice strained, looking like a frightful deer to Bokuto, who held a stern expression and his grip on his shoulders tighten.

"Run far away from here, anywhere. I'm not letting you marry someone you don't love and have your freedom taken away."

Bokuto's breathing was calm compared to Akaashi's ragged ones. He was quivering in so much fear he almost let's a yell out, instead it was a cracked voice that held a small plea into them.

"But you'll get killed! Bokuto...I can't have that.."

Burying his face on this broaded chest, his cries muffled as he clutches on his cloak, afraid to let go and meet with his faith.

"I don't want this.."

Bokuto forces his face up gently to look into his eyes, nothing but love and determination in them. He wonders, why isn't he afraid to lose his own life? Did he want to die so easily?

His lips suddenly captured by his, letting him melt into his hold and peck even for a second as he feels the swarm of emotion rising from within Bokuto to him before he pulls away and spoke,

"Marry me, Akaashi.

You'll never have to be alone

I love you and that's all I really know."

He listens to him, taking in every word and body language he could see from Bokuto.

"That's all I care about and should matter. Everything will follow if we take a step away from all of this."

"But my father—

"Let go of your dad, and go pack up your stuff."

For a second, he thought he saw his mother right before his eyes. Telling him exactly to follow Bokuto with a small smile, wanting her son to be freed from the greed and power she has known from her husband ever since she too, was forced to marry him out of demand.

There were too many things happening in one night. Yesterday they were happy, spent an entire evening exploring ones body and littering kisses all over, spilling out each other's love speeches and now,

Now marks the day Akaashi leaves his hell hole alone and live the life his mother would've wanted for him and her.

"It's a love our story, please, just say, "Yes"

And he did, for he knows he wants to keep this story going until their last breath.

[non-stop-imagines]

To a Groovy Night Out

 Request: Can you do an imagine where it’s in the 60s and Bucky and Steve are invited to an underground nightclub by Sam and Bucky meets the reader and she teaches Bucky how to dance. Kinda like in Dirty Dancing but the gender roles are reversed. The song Stay by Maurice & The Zodiacs played on my playlist and I thought about how funny it would be to see Bucky’s expression with the reader grinding on him

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Black!Reader (60s AU)

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Nothing much really, the dancing described is a bit suggestive.

A/N: AHHHHHH!!! First thing written in months and I did it all within today. I feel like it's a good starting point for getting back into the swing of things especially taking the time to research and making the story as accurate as possible. I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH FOr giving me the encouragement to get through the semester and being so patient. Thank you for not giving up on me because it really helped knowing that when I started writing again the people I'm writing for would be right there with me. So, THANK YOU AGAIN! THANK YOU FOR GETTING THUS BLOG TO 1000 FOLLOWERS! I LOVE EACH AND EVERYONE IF YOU! I hope you all enjoy, and to the anon who requested this, thank you for being so patient with me. Love you all!😍💛❤️💛❤️💛

UNIVERSAL TAGS LIST: @beautifulwisdom2001 @iamzion-therealhabesha @thottio @jetaimeamore @mixedfandxms @here-for-your-bullshit

Masterlist

_______

   “You’re coming tonight, right?” Your best friend since grade school, Sam, asks over the phone. You continue to pick out your near perfect fro, which you're grateful for.

    “I have to. I need to meet these white boys you conned into coming.” You set down your pick and adjust the phone that was in between your ear and shoulder, sitting back in your chair and twirling the spiraled cord around your finger.

    “They’re cooler than you think.” Sam looks into the oval mirror hanging on his wall, admiring his above the shoulder appearance and unbuttoning the first few buttons on his shirt, showing off a good amount of chest hair.

    "I just know they better not flip out like the last white person that came through. You remember that? When Jack with the box cut and glasses brought some fridged white bitch that tried to bug Sheila about how she was dressed?" You scoff at your words and adjust your bust in your yellow flowy satin button up that you tied around your midriff then pick up your eye liner pencil.

    "They're hip, I promise. Like me, the only reason they went to training for 'Nam was because they didn't want to get impounded." He runs a brush over his growing hair then looks at the clock on his nightstand. "When do you think you'll get to the club?" He sits in a chair close to the phone and bends over to tie his Chuck's.

    "Quarter to 10, 11 earliest. You know I always arrive on the scene fashionably late." You smile for a moment then proceed to finish lining your other eye and pick up your mascara. 

    "11:30 got it." Sam roll his eyes before checking his upper body appearance one last time. "See ya there." 

    "Later." You bid farewell the hang up. Standing from your seat after applying mascara and some lipstick, you move over to your closet door mirror to admire your new threads. You had on a satin yellow button up tied at the waist and cinched at the wrists with a healthy amount of cleavage showing, black mini skirt, showing off your assets, and black go-go boots accentuating your legs. "Alright girly, time to show up and show out." You grab your small clutch and make your way out of your room.

_____

    "Wow, this place is a blast." The tall, inhumanly muscular blonde says, looking around the dimly lit nightclub, Higher and Higher by Jackie Wilson blasting through the building, loud enough to hear down the block. 

    "Hey where's this babe you were talkin' about, man?" The faux tough brunette asks taking glances at the door every ten seconds, reveling in each beautiful sight that walks through.

    "She'll be here. Why you flippin out over her anyway?" Before the man could answer you came up behind Sam and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. 

    "Hey boys! We havin fun yet?" You chuckle earning some smiles from the men around you. You remove your arm from Sam to get a good look at him. "Sam, looking groovy as always." 

    "And you, fashionably early this time." You chuckle and shake your head then turn to the two white boys, tucking your clutch under your arm and reaching yours out to shake their hands. "You two must be Bucky and Steve." 

    "I'm Steve. And my gawking friend here is Bucky." You didn't notice until Steve said something but for the past minute and a half Bucky has done nothing but revel in your presence. Even with the dim lighting of the club, your skin still shinned like gold, the red tint on your lips making him want to kiss you then and there, and you outfit highlighting your body's features in the best possible way.

    "I'm sorry. I'm James but my friends call me Bucky and might I say you look outta sight Ms…-uh-" He reaches out to shake your hand.

    "Y/F/N Y/L/N. But please, call me Y/N, Ms.Y/N is my old woman." You flash a sweet smile then look over to the near empty bar. "Welp it's not a good night out unless someone has the intention of getting blitzed. You guys want anything?" 

    "You know what I want." Sam tucks his hands into his pockets. Bucky and Steve both refuse allowing you to make your way to the bar. "You can put it on my tab!" Sam shouts to you.

    "I was going to anyway!" You turn around and grin then sway to the bar as Heard it Through the Grapevine by Marvin Gaye comes on.

    "You did not disappoint, Wilson." Bucky says, watching your hips sway almost subconsciously to the music.

    "Eh, don't let her fool you. She was a complete egghead in high school. Still is. She has a degree in engineering, a wiz with numbers." Sam leans on the high table standing next to them.

    "Oh that won't stop him. He's always been a kiss up to smart girls." Steve raises an eyebrow at his friend who was still looking at the dancing girl, who was now making her way back to the group.

    "An Old Fashion for the old man," you had the glass to Sam. "And a sidecar for moi." You take a sip from your glass. "And whatever he said about me… probably true." At that moment Uptight by Stevie Wonder comes on. "Oh well you know I can't be still with this groove." You set your drink next to Sam and grab Bucky's hand. "Let's dance, James." You pull him to the middle of the floor begin to move, doing the hully gully and the jerk while Bucky bobs his head trying to keep up. You couldn't help but bust out laughing.

    "Hey, cut me some slack! I don't go dancing all that often." He beings to laugh with you.

    "You just need to chill. Starting with your look." You take a step back and untuck his red polo from his dark brown pants and then reach up and pull a strand of hair from his slicked back hair-do. "Better. Now, for the dancing, uh-, here. Step side to side." Bucky does as told slowly stepping side to side. "No faster, with the beat." You grab his hands and show him with feet, your hands in his sending shivers up his arm. He trys to follow, tripping over his feet a few times. You chuckle. "Better, but not so… freaky. Smooth it out, make it look natural." He tries again, looking scarier than before, but just as you were about to give him another instruction, Stay by Maurice William & the Zodiacs flowed from the speakers and through the club.

"Ok, lets try this." You place your hands on your hips and move your hips back and forth slowly and sultry. Bucky tries to follow your movements but ended up being as stiff as a board. 

    "Like this?" You threw you head back in laughter, Bucky following suit. You shake you head and bring your hands to his hips, placing them on top of his hands, realizing just how big they are. 

    "Ok, now back and forth, back and forth, flu-id mo-tion. Good. Now…" you match Bucky's tempo and move closer to him, eventually straddling his left leg. "Put your hands," you take his hands which were hovering around your body and place them on your waist. "There. Now you keeping doing that and I'll do… this." You begin to circle your hips, your upper thigh dangerously close to his crotch. You reach your right hand up and around the back of his head, bringing his ear closer. "And don't be afraid to cop a feel, brother." You pull your head away and smirk. Then allow your left arm to hang at your side as Bucky's hands became more adventurous. His face on the other hand was still timid, and slightly surprised. Soon the song was over and you and Bucky were making your way back over to Sam and Steve who both seem to be chatting up a poor girl who had no idea which one she wanted.

    "You two were a sight to see." Sam grins as he hands you a fresh drink, and you take a sip.

    "Someone had to show this square how to chill out." You hip bump him. "I'll be back in two shakes." You take another sip of your drink and head back over to the bar.

    "Hey, uh, Steve? You want to shake that skinny bippy of yours out on the floor?" The girl asks, not making eye contact until Steve puts out his hand for her to take.

    "Let's dance." And with that, it was Steve's turn to humiliate himself on the dance floor.

    "So how was it? Dancing with Y/N? I've been told it's a religious experience." Sam chuckles, crossing his arms.

    "That's an understatement. I've never danced like that before. She's some teacher though. Uh, is she, um… carrying the torch for any one?" He rubs his neck and looks over at you, waving back after you wave at him from the bar.

    "HA! She is a catch, isn't she? Yeah, I tried to get her, but she said I was too much like family. But hey, maybe white boys such as yourself are her type." Sam shrugs and takes a swig of his drink, wincing at the burn then looking at his friend, who gazed hopelessly at you, then quickly panicked as you began to walk back over with four shot glasses in one hand and a bottle of liquor in the other. "Ah, come on. Don't be a candyass, y'all practically banged on the dance floor." Bucky's face turns red at the comment. "Hey come on. Just ask her out." Sam seemlessly changes from his whisper to taking a swing of his drink as you finally get back to the group. 

    "Alright! Now it's time to let it all hang out!" You set the glasses down on the table and pour the the liquor in three of the four glasses after grinning at Steve dancing with the cute dark skin girl a head and a half  shorter than him, even with her afro. You hand a glass to Sam and one to Bucky. "To new friends and a groovy night out." You intertwine your arm with Bucky's and then down the burning liquid, looking into Bucky's eyes before doing so. He takes his shot, lifting you on your toes a bit as he brings the glass to his lips due to your intertwined arms. He looks at Sam, who was tilting his head toward you, then slowly removes his arm from yours. 

    "Uh, Y/N… I was wondering, you know, if you would maybe wanna hang out sometime? If it's not a hassle, of course." Bucky messes with his glass, keeping his eyes low until the silence became too much for him. He looks up to see your eyes and are met with your smiling chocolate irises, red lips smiling in a similar way.

    "Far out!" You throw your arms around his neck, leaning back into his instinctual grip around your waist. "I'd love to James. Maybe sometime next week?" You lean in to his neck, taking in his scent then give hip a peck right below his ear.

    "Sounds like a plan." He hugs you tighter, tilting his head giving you more access to his neck. You accept and continue to kiss down his neck.

    "Man, if you guys are gonna neck, at least do it on the floor like everyone else." Sam points, the first thing catching your eye being  Steve's girl now pushing open the buttons on his long sleeve polo, sleeves now rolled up.

    "Well then color me gone." You grip Bucky's hand and lead him to the floor, his eyes on your swaying his hips as I Say a Little Prayer by Aretha Franklin floods the speakers, leaving Sam not so alone as a girl quickly comes up to him after you two leave.

    "Why have you been calling me James all evening?" He asks a few seconds of you kissing along his neck again, pressing your body to his and following your up tempo step and sway.

    "I like to call people by the name their mama gave them, if they allow me." You bring your right hand further up on his head and lightly scratch his scalp.

    "I love when you say my name." He says these words with an amount of confidence you didn't think could possibly come from him. He moves one hand down onto the back of your thigh and tightens his grip on both your lower back and thigh, then takes the lead in the movements, learning quickly how to move. You smirk up at him, running your gaze along his face, then pulling his head down to meet your lips in a heated kiss, nothing but a haze of lust and admiration coming from and surrounding you two, the music being the only thing part of your world.

[this-is-a-podcast-fanblog]

another esteban fic

You thought I was done. 

Night Vale spoilers ahead for the recent episodes as well as for Spy In the Desert!

~~~

The Night Vale adoption agency is the most important place Cecil has been to in a long time. It’s also one singular office, about the size of a hotel bathroom, with a card table and folding chairs under a bright poster that says, “YOU CAN ADOPT! YOU WILL ADOPT! YOU HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO ADOPT!” A very tired-looking case worker in a black dress sits across the table picking at a Nature Valley granola bar with one of her hands. Her other two are typing across a laptop. 

“So,” she says, “adoption in Night Vale isn’t like other places.” 

“Of course.” Cecil smiles and glances at his husband, who, thankfully, doesn’t look too nervous. 

“Naturally, there are no cases of children that need to be adopted within the city.” She gives them a knowing look over her glasses. Carlos frowns in Cecil’s peripheral vision. 

“Why is that?”

“Children in need of adoption are adopted by the Hooded Figures,” Cecil explains in unison with the woman. 

Carlos shifts in his seat. “Um, is that a good idea? Are the kids safe there?” 

“Of course. They have regular health and safety inspections from the Sheriff’s Secret Police, the Night Vale Board of Family Services, and the GrubHub delivery guy.” The case worker raps her nails definitively on the desk. “Plus, the kids have an indoor waterpark to play in once they get home from school. They’re very happy.” 

Carlos lifts an eyebrow “But it’s proportionally impossible for a water park to fit in the dog par-”

“NOT ALL THINGS SHALL MAKE SENSE!” booms the case worker, and Carlos stops talking. “Now.” She collects herself and resumes her smile. “We’ll be adding you to a database of parents, since you’ve passed all of your inspections and filled out your paperwork. If there are children entered into the system, case workers will consider you to adopt based on the child’s needs and location. You’ll be getting a call from us soon.” 

Cecil beams. He squeezes Carlos’s hand under the folding table. Carlos’s warm, perfectly soft thumb slides over Cecil’s wedding ring, an adorable thing he’s been doing for years now. Little touches like that are why it’s so easy to love Carlos. Carlos is an incredible scientist and husband, and soon, he’s going to be an amazing father. They both will be. 

“If you have any questions?” The case worker’s first two arms tap her papers into a stack, while the third throws out her granola bar wrapper.

“How much notice will we get?” asks Carlos, who has a list of important parenting questions written down.

“At least 24 hours, in case you need to fly out of the city. Anything else?” 

“Do you think babies prefer ducklings or froggies?” asks Cecil, who has been nesting for the past few days. 

“Ducklings,” says the worker. “You two have a lovely day.” 

They pull into the parking lot of Buy Buy Baby Not Bye Bye Baby, the best baby supply store in town. Cecil turns off the engine. Neither of them unbuckle. For a while, they sit in the silence of the car, watching a shopping cart roll away across the parking lot and into some ornamental bushes. 

“We’re going to be dads,” says Carlos at length, breaking the silence. 

Cecil turns to look at him. “How are you feeling?” 

Carlos smiles, laughs, ducks his head. He’s so adorable. Even his awed laughter is perfect. “Cecil, I don’t have any scientific words for how I’m feeling - I don’t even think I can quantify it, you know? Cece.” He bites his smile, which has begun quivering. “I’m adopting a baby. With my husband. I just...”

“Never thought it would happen,” Cecil finishes. 

Carlos nods. Cecil unbuckles his seatbelt and leans over to kiss the bridge of Carlos’s nose above his glasses. 

“It is real,” he promises. “It’s really, really happening! And now we have to go buy some onesies while they’re still on sale!”

“I will not let anyone get to the onesies before me.”

“They’re OUR baby’s onesies!” Cecil proclaims as both of them get out of the car and run to grab a shopping cart. 

The store is crowded today, moms and dads and parents jostling each other through the well-stocked aisles of formula and plushies. They are not like the Palmer-Scientist husbands, whose combined years of exceptional journalism and groundbreaking science have made them especially smart. Cecil and Carlos have their strategy planned. Carlos pushes the cart down aisles in the exact order that they need. Cecil stands on the front of the cart, shouting things like, “Hey, new dads coming through! If you don’t get out of our way you’re homophobic!

Back at home, they drag their purchases into a currently-empty room. This room promises to become a nursery, just as soon as one of them works up the courage to build the IKEA crib. 

“You shouldn’t be able to buy an IKEA crib at Buy Buy Baby,” Carlos comments, as he begins unpacking a bag of stuffed animals. 

“You shouldn’t be able to buy a lot of things at Buy Buy Baby! Oh, did we remember the -”

“-bloodstone mobile? Yup! I have it right here.”

“I love you.” 

They turn on music and set up the nursery. Gravity in the town conveniently shuts off for 12 minutes, so they stick glow-in-the-dark stars to the ceiling. They hang up curtains. When gravity comes back they set up the changing station, with a mat on the top shelf, baby powder and boxes of diapers on the bottom shelf. Cecil is obsessed with the changing station. 

“It’s so CUTE!” He gestures to one of the cloth diapers. “Look how TINY this is!”

“Babies are very small! Did you know that a baby’s head makes up more than a quarter of their entire body length?”

“No way!” Cecil thinks about adding that to the Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner, but they’ve agreed together not to talk about their adoption on the radio. He places the dresser next to the changing station and places the equally tiny baby clothes into the drawers. Cecil already has matching outfits for all of the baby’s clothes. 

When Carlos gets frustrated over wrestling the IKEA crib, they take a snack break. They bring apple slices and peanut butter into the nursery, along with a bottle of wine, and sit on the floor to eat. 

“Did the case worker say whether our baby is male or female?” Cecil asks. 

Carlos pops an apple slice into Cecil’s mouth. “The concept of marketing color-coding to infants based on a gender they may not actually identify with is a capitalist tool to sell more baby clothes,” he says. “Also, it’s been scientifically proven that blue isn’t a more masculine color. And pink isn’t more feminine, it just isn’t.” 

“I know that. But we need to get our baby a Social Night Vale ID.” 

“Like a social security number?”

“More like a driver’s license. All kids under 18 have to have one, just in case they get arrested for not eating at Big Rico’s.” Cecil licks a smidge of peanut butter off of Carlos’s thumb. “Since not all kids can afford pizza, and so the law only applies to adults. It’s a get out of jail free card.”

“Huh.” Carlos frowns. “Even babies need one?”

“Yes. That’s the municipal decree.” Cecil stretches and refills his wine glass. “We can just put X on the form for now. City Council has to understand, I mean, we don’t even have the baby yet.”

“The baby,” Carlos repeats, like he’s savoring the word. “Our baby.” 

Cecil gives him a quick kiss. Carlos wraps both arms around him and pulls him close, the two of them tangling up on the floor, and they turn it into a long kiss. 

“I’m worried I won’t be a good dad, though,” Carlos murmurs as he sits up. 

Cecil dusts off his polka dot overalls. “I think being a dad is something no one starts off good at,” he says. “It’s like radio hosting. Or pouring out libations to the elder gods. It just takes a little time to get into practice. C’mon.” He tips his beret-capped head at the IKEA cabinet. “Let’s fight this thing some more.” 

A few days pass. Their nursery sits finished, though Cecil goes in every few hours to change the angle of a piece of furniture, or add another stuffed duckling to the pile of stuffed animals on a shelf. Carlos has added baby-proof handles to all of their doors, just in case the child they adopt is able to walk. “Did you know most babies take their first steps between nine and 12 months?” he says. “And then they start talking, like in little sentences, between 18 months and two years! But for some kids that kind of thing takes a little longer - I mean, I didn’t start talking until I was five. Or, some kids never learn to talk. And that’s okay!”

For the most part, they try to go about their normal lives. Guessing at what day they’ll get the call would only create anxiety. Cecil focuses on writing his shows and doing his outfits and makeup. “Babies need a lot of attention,” Carlos tells him. “We won’t have as much time for makeup or science or whatever.” 

“You’re learning a lot of scientific facts about babies,” Cecil comments as he laces up his hip-high boots. They’re boots so high that they can be worn as pants, though he’s put a skirt over them anyway, because fashion. 

Carlos nods. “Yeah. I’m... I’m worried, actually.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Worried that I’m not going to be as good of a dad as I want to be, you know? I want our baby’s life to be perfect.”

“Nothing is ever perfect,” Cecil assures him. Carlos nods, unconvinced. “I’m worried too, though. I understand. All we can do now is wait.” 

In the end, they don’t have to wait long. The Palmer-Scientists are curled up in bed, sound asleep, a week and a half after visiting the adoption agency, when Carlos’s phone starts ringing.” 

“Nhhh,” he mumbles. He tries to reach across Cecil to grab it and accidentally smacks his husband in the face. “I’m awake, I’m awake. Thanks, babe,” he adds as Cecil hands him the phone. “Hello?” Carlos sits up abruptly in bed. “Wait,” he says. “Really? Right now?”

“Put it on speaker.”

“Sorry, let me put it on speaker so Cecil can hear.” He fumbles with his phone through shaking hands. “Okay.” 

“Hello, Cecil,” says the case worker’s voice. “Can you get a flight tonight?”

Cecil can feel his heart hammering in his stomach, and in his brain, and all throughout his body, like somersaults of nerves racking his entire form. “You mean...?” 

“I’ve just received a call from the Children’s Hospital of Arizona,” the case worker continues. “They need an emergency adoption. A woman came in to their labor wing earlier this sick, but after giving birth, she fled. No one has seen her. She only left her baby, and a note saying she doesn’t want him.”

“W-why not?” Carlos asks. 

“Because he was premature. Initially, it looked like he wouldn’t survive for very long. Don’t worry,” she says as Cecil makes a cry of worry. “He’s been very sick, but has improved in the past few days. The doctors want him to leave the intensive care wing, but only if a family can take him in immediately and monitor his health. They also want a family that lives near a hospital. Fortunately, you meet all those conditions.” 

“He must be so scared,” Cecil whimpers, “All alone there.” 

“Which is why you need to get on the soonest flight you can. Tonight, if possible. From there, get a taxi or something to the hospital and check in at the maternal wing. And you’ll need an incubator at home, just as a precaution if he gets sick again. Okay?” 

Carlos nods and squeezes Cecil’s hand. 

“Okay. I’m looking forward to seeing you two in my office soon.” There’s a smile in the case worker’s voice. “With your son. Please call me if you need anything.”

“We will. Thanks.” 

Carlos hangs up. He sets down his phone on the bed and turns to Cecil, and when their eyes meet they both burst into tears. Cecil collapses into Carlos’s arms and buries his face in his shoulder, shaking. “Oh, my god, this is happening,” he whispers. “And-and he’s all alone, in Arizona, and he’s sick -”

“Yeah, and what if we can’t take care of him?” Carlos’s arms tremble. “If, if I’m a really terrible dad, and I make him even more sick? And he gets taken away from us? Or he grows up and he isn’t happy here, isn’t happy because I wasn’t good enough -”

“Carlos.” Cecil sits up and wipes his eyes. He cradles Carlos’s face in his hands. “Carlos, you are the most perfectly imperfect person, and husband, and you will be an amazing father. Okay? Like the case worker said, we’re right near the Night Vale hospital! We can help our son if he gets sick again.” Cecil sighs as Carlos keeps crying. “Sweetie...” 

This is new to him. Because when the town is falling apart or the grocery store stops existing or dragons sweep from the sky, Cecil has an answer for what Carlos doesn’t understand. Or when something in the world is confusing, Carlos has a scientific explanation for it. There are no explanations for learning, in the late hours of the night, that their future son is sick in another state, and that in the course of a few short hours, their entire life will change. 

Instead, Cecil cuddles Carlos closer and kisses the top of his head. “We will be okay,” he says. “And our son will be okay. I promise.” 

Carlos sniffles and dabs at his eyes with the sleeve of his nighttime lab coat. “B-but we don’t have an incubator.” 

“Okay... so only one of us will go to Arizona. You go, you know all the scientific facts about babies.” Carlos’s eyes go wide. “You do, Carlos. You know so much! And you’re better at leaving Night Vale, anyway.” The last time they tried to leave the town for a weekend getaway, Cecil kept teleporting back to Night Vale against his will. Aging did that to citizens. “You can do this, bunny. I know you can.” 

“I can do this.” 

“Yes, babe.” 

Carlos nods and takes a deep breath. “I’m going to go get our son,” he says. “And bring him home, safe.” 

“And I’m going to get an incubator and have his nursery all ready for him when you get back.” Cecil smiles. “This is exciting! Carlos, we’re finally going to have a baby! We’re going to raise a family together!”

“Yeah.” Carlos smiles and leans in to kiss Cecil. “Yeah, we are!”

They get up. Cecil packs an overnight bag for Carlos while Carlos packed a bag for the baby - diapers, formula, an outfit and a warm blanket for the plane. 

“Okay,” he said as he stuffed a blanket into the baby bag. “Do I have everything?”

“You’re forgetting your bag.” Cecil held it out. “This has an extra lab coat and your fidget magnets. Oh, and some snacks. Snacks are very important.”

“You are the best.” Carlos kissed Cecil’s cheek and took the bag. Then he drew a deep breath and looked around. “Well,” he said. “This is the last time we’ll be alone in our house for a while.” 

“Our entire life is about to change.” Cecil smoothed the lapel on Carlos’s lab coat. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come to the airport with you?” 

“No, I want you to sleep. We won’t be getting a lot of it, because on average, babies will wake up and cry two to three times a night, and they won’t go back to sleep until they’ve been comforted and fed.”

“That’s a good fact to know.” Cecil holds out his arms for one long hug. “I love you so, so much.”

“I love you too.” 

They break apart, kiss, hug again, break apart. “Okay,” says Carlos. “Okay.”

“Okay,” says Cecil. “Oh, wait!” He runs to the nursery and brings back one of the stuffed ducklings. “So he’ll have something to play with.” 

Carlos nods and tucks it into the baby bag. Cecil reaches up and gives him one last kiss. 

“I love you,” he says. “Bring our son home safe.” 

And then Carlos leaves, with the sound of a closing door and a revving car engine, and Cecil is alone in the house watching the lights of Carlos’s car fade through the window. He puts on one of Carlos’s lab coats, gets a blanket, and goes to the nursery. He double- and triple- checking that everything is in order. The sun-shaped clock on the wall proclaims that it is 3:12 AM. At eight, he will get up and drive into the shopping district for an incubator. 

For now, he curls up in the rocking chair. He watches the bloodstone mobile spin in a breeze that isn’t actually there. And, eventually, under the clock’s steady ticking, Cecil falls asleep in a coat that smells like his husband, in a room that will be his son’s. 

[thinkball]

Warum Deutsch?

2020, started on an ominous note and that note of ominous-ness has lingered for well past 3.5 months now. The world was oblivious to the damaging effect of the Corona virus back then. However on 3rd Jan 2020, I was not only oblivious to the damaging effect of Corona, I was also considerably clueless of how I found myself in a German Class, actually paid, enrolled and then found myself in a class blinking to the Question posed by a teacher who was stringent about addressing her class in Deutsch only.

She asked “Woher Kommen Sie?” (Where do you come from?)

I don’t have a einfach answer to that...

Ich Komme aus Pai Layout. The correct sentence is Ich wohne in Pai Layout (I stay in Pai Layout) which was repeated another 4 times by Sathya, Ameya, Mahi and Yoga Mat girl… leaving the teacher blinking her eyes then asking “Where is Pai Layout?”

The teacher kommt aus Maharashtra and was possibly intrigued by a layout of fellow Konkanis in Bangalore. (Hallo Lehrerin, In Pai Layout, keine Konkani oder Konkani Restaurant- #teardrops)

The classroom was bright, colorful, had a nice Touch screen serving as a Board (ohh, I miss the classroom).. You could see a spectacular view of pine trees and the rising sun. But I was not here to see the sunrise which puts us forward to the question. “Why was I there in a German class in the first place?”

A few days later the teacher did ask, “Warum lernst du Deutsch?”

Our class has a strength of 23 regular students ranging from various professions (mostly engineers, a doctor, lawyer, economist), geographical backgrounds, an age group of 22- (well my age was the upper limit). And everyone barring me was ambitious. They were learning Deutsch to pursue higher studies or employment in Deutschland!!

Why was I learning German??

“Actually my office is quite close by. I wanted my mornings to be productive. And well Just for Fun.”

Not a very conclusive or confident answer. You just don’t go to a class because it is next to your office/ house.

The question Warum Deutsch lingered on in my mind.

Classes progressed from Aa, Bay, Say, Day, Ey, F, Gay… to numbers (Funf und Dreizig) to the timings (um Sieben Uhr), Gender (Der-Die-Das) to Akkusativ, Dativ, Nominativ, Partizip Zwei, German Grammar until we lost our understanding of English Grammar as well. If you thought that Grammar Nazi is a term to indicate that a person is strict about the correctness of Grammar, well you are mistaken. Grammar Nazi is a term to indicate that German Grammar (if you miss a class) can be as brutal as the Nazis itself.

We ran, laughed (mit dem Junge mit Trizeps), framed sentences (that the Doctor would dutifully korrigiert), played games (that ensured the Economist had to be reconciled to return to our classes), listened to nursery rhymes (of a Kleine Kuken piept) akin to Kindergarten* kids minus the Nap Time, of course.

Well that was the most interesting part of the whole class. You had to become a child again. By “Becoming a Child”, I mean the childlike attributes like Enthusiasm, discipline, obedience when you are learning something new.

Besides these attributes, Die Lehrerin was also in favor of inculcating punctuality. Our class was notoriously late (and one is not even considering the profoundly knowledgeable Bejaan Daruwala).

But our teacher was innovative and also has a sweet tooth. What she introduced can become a Case Study in Human Behavioral Science and Reinforcements that can end up in a Daniel Kahneman or a Richard Thaler book.

Sometime in February she introduced a new rule. If you come later than Viertel nach Sieben Uhr (7:15 am), you had a designated Schokolade tisch (Chocolate Table) and the obligation to bring chocolates for the entire class the next day. Though it was opposed initially, the rule became a big hit. It did ensure Sweet mornings and also rapidly improved the attendance (who likes to miss chocolates) and the punctuality of the students. Soon the number of late comers dwindled but the sweets and savories did not. Someone got Chocolates from Germany, someone brought Gulab Jamun and someone got Bhakarwadi (all the way from Pune).

The camaraderie was great. Then it came to an abrupt halt.

With news streaming in of the rise of Corona Virus and victims in India, our classes were disrupted for a while and then it shifted online. That was also a struggle with echoes, dismayed Can you hear me, I can’t hear you, dodgy network, we faced it all. But the class assiduously and with conviction carried on and then we were upgraded to a better Platform for a trial of 2-3 days.

The platform incident happened at the fag end of our course. It had a good lesson for me.

I had my reasons for not liking the new platform but it was hugely popular in the class. However the joy of the class was short lived as we were directed to the old platform again. The new platform was given on a trial basis to us as a sample test for the next batch. Returning to the old platform made most/ (all of them) livid. I am used to sorry stuff. I pass a joke and go about with it.

But here was my lesson. The students insisted and the teacher persisted with their request. I thought it would not be possible. But Lo, behold today morning we were back to the better platform. It might seem trivial but someone who settles for sorry and shitty stuff, one learnt that if you want good things, you have to be assertive and make an effort for it.

Another week and we are done with the classes. I got my share of fun. I plan to continue learning Deutsch further. I am sad that the classes have to end like this. But all things come to an end… promising new learnings, friends and experiences :)

Warum Deutsch?

“das Neue erlebe!!”

[eeveedel]

Hello, all! I’ve really been wanting to start doing formal fic recs for awhile, since they’re some of my favorite things to see on my dash, and I said that I would post some big fic rec masterposts once I hit 2k, which was a few weeks ago! So, here we are! I always get asked what my favorite A/B/O fics are, and since it’s one of my favorite tropes I thought it would be a great place to start. 

So, here are some of my favorite Harry/Louis A/B/O fics, organized into what I love most about them (with both alpha Harry and alpha Louis mixed in throughout all the categories). I hope you enjoy them and can find something new to read and love! 

A+ Worldbuilding

OmegaVision by jaerie (23k)

Tomlin Networks Presents: OmegaVision starring Louis Tomlinson! The world's first 24/7 reality channel available in over 150 countries worldwide following the life of the first male omega born in over a century. Follow Louis through his daily routine, the ups and downs of growing up or just leave him on for comfort. There are many reasons to tune in but, no matter what yours may be, there's always a part of Louis that is just like you!

Or a Truman Show au that nobody asked for where Louis is Truman and Harry just wants to be his mate

And the truth shall set you free (...maybe) by jaerie (17k)

Betism: A religion based on the belief that the beta gender has been chosen by God to protect and defend the purity and dignity of the human race by resisting and condemning the lustful ways and flawed biology of the alpha and omega

Harry is a Betist and Louis is an alpha who runs with a bad crowd. This is what happens when two worlds collide.

just my style by thoughtsickles (15k)

Harry is sick, and the only thing that might help him is the pheromones from his mate--problem is, he hasn't got a mate.

Louis' just been disowned, and taking part in a medical study where he has to cuddle with some strange alpha seems to be his only option for earning a bit of cash.

The hippies and Omega Rights campaigners are busy changing the world--but all Harry wants is a chance to live.

Cameras Flashing by juliusschmidt (81k)

With his breakout single platinum three times over and his second album still selling out in stores around the world, Louis Tomlinson has made it to the top. However, his position as Pop Heartthrob of the Decade is threatened by the edgier, more artistic Zayn, who happens to be releasing an album a week after Louis’ upcoming third. Louis needs something groundbreaking- scandalous, even- to push past him in the charts. Much to Louis’ dismay, his PR team calls in The Sexpert.

Consulting with PR firm Shady, Lane and Associates pays the bills so that Harry Styles can spend his down time doing what he really loves: poring over data. On weekends and late into the evenings, he researches gender, presentation, and sexual orientation, analysing the longitudinal study that is his father’s life’s work. That is, until his newest client, the popstar with the fascinating secret, drags him off his couch and frighteningly close to the spotlight.

As the album’s release date approaches, will Tomlinson and Styles be able to pull off the most risky PR scheme of the millennium and beat Zayn in sales or will the heat of their feelings for each other compromise everything?

Interesting (Non-Typical) Dynamics

lemon eyes turnyourankle (50k)

It's not proper for omegas to mess around with alphas before finding their bondmate. But Harry doesn't give a damn what's proper and fully intends on getting as much experience as he can before even trying to find one. As far as he's concerned, the right alpha won't care, and he'll have some fun on the way.

And who better to start with than Louis Tomlinson, the alpha with the worst reputation on campus?

cancel your reservations, no more hesitations by14hrflight (10k)

Louis is an alpha and so is Harry, but Louis helps him through his rut anyway.

Woke Up Feeling Knotty by jaerie (7k)

Beta Louis has a kink for knotting and the secret aesthetic porn blog he runs about it is more than proof. When he accidentally finds out his alpha best friend Harry is one of his biggest fans, he knows he has to come clean after everything that has already happened between them. Harry just might be willing to help him out anyway.

Heat/Rut

Ten Million Ways to Love Somebody by slashter (8k)

The one where Louis and Omega!Louis switch places and there's basically a lot of confusion and feelings and sex

A body wishes to be held and held by turnyourankle (9k)

Harry wants to return the favour after Louis helps him out with his heat.

Breathe into your well by turnyourankle (4k)

A rut bar. A place where omegas who are so inclined can link up with Alphas in rut. It's not a place Louis ever pictured himself visiting but in the hopes of having a memorable rut, it's where he finds himself tonight.

Give Me What I’m Begging For by zedi (5k)  

Omega Harry is a professor at a uni. Louis is his alpha mate, whose rut is coming up soon, so Harry has to take a week off from school to be with Louis. He tells his students it's a vacation but they all can tell the truth and tease him about it. Then Louis' rut comes and they both spend a week at home to fuck it out.

Super Hot (not Heat or Rut) 

mr. tomlinson by iwillpaintasongforlou (4k)

Louis is a billionaire CEO who makes grown men cry and rival companies crumble. He's also an omega. Harry is the quiet cupcake of a man he calls his alpha and the only one who gets to see Louis as anything less than fearsome.

Alpha Styles Quadruplets by LacyLou and ZiamsLarry (8k)

The fic where Louis gets fucked by the Styles Quadruplets.

Drunk on rose water by brainwaves (9k)

It’s the first time in a few years that Harry has a strong desire to risk everything for something he loves.

The last time, it was being a fashion model. This time, it’s Louis.

Angst

Forever, Uninterrupted by sparkk (8k)

Harry finds a mysterious picture in Louis' bag one night and drives himself crazy over it. It's definitely not what he thinks.

I Can’t Hear You by kikikryslee (9k)

Harry is self-conscious about his body because it's not the 'typical omega body' and Louis shows him why he loves that.

Enemies to Lovers

Like Candy in My Veins by littlelouishiccups (31k)

“Um…” Harry said slowly after a moment. “Okay. That’s… this is… Let me get this straight.” He lifted up a hand and swallowed. “You told your family that you have a boyfriend… and my name was the first one you thought of?”

“Harry Potter was on TV, alright? It wasn’t that much of a stretch.” Louis pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t believe he was explaining himself to Harry fucking Styles. He couldn’t believe he was stooping this low. “Forget it. I’m sorry I even thought about bringing you into this.”

Harry snorted. “What? Did you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend or something?” (Basically the A/B/O, enemies to lovers, fake relationship, Christmas AU that nobody asked for.)

Do You Like My Sweater? by kikikero (13k)

When Harry's alpha fraternity decides to host a Sadie Hawkins dance, outspoken omega Louis has a thing or two to say about it.

Fluff and Domesticity

The beast you made of me (4k) - orphaned  

Harry's a vanilla-sweet Omega and Louis walks into his bakery one day.

Won’t You Settle Down with Me? by louissass (2k)  

Louis is heavily pregnant and nesting

I found a love (darling just dive right in) by wonderlou (46k)

Louis, an omega with very little control. Harry, an alpha with a lot of emotion. Neither of them have any idea what do to with this little thing called love, but they'll be damned if they don't put up a good fight.

I will care for you by lululawrence (15k)

“Afton, I just don’t know what I’m going to do,” Harry whined. “I’m going to adopt her, but I have no idea how to take care of her when I’m here as much as I am and I can’t really afford to raise a child on fewer hours. My family can only help so much, but I’ve already been relying on them too much this past week.”

“Oh, Harry. Just get yourself a nanny.” Afton threw out the suggestion and Harry sat up. How had he not considered that?

“How much do you need to pay a nanny? If I cut some expenses, I might be able to handle that, if they lived in. Would they expect more of me, since I’m an unmated alpha? Like, they wouldn’t think I’m some dodgy alpha looking for a nanny to become a bondmate or anything, would they?”

“Shut up, Harry,” Afton demanded. If she wasn’t a beta, Harry almost felt like she might have put some alpha timbre into her voice with that line. Either way, he did shut up to listen to her as she continued. “Reach out to Louis. He’s our usual sitter and he’s lovely. He’s come on some hard times, too, so you could probably convince him to work for you for cheap, especially if you’re having him live with you too.”

[pastelbatfandoms]

ABCs of your OCs

A list of oc questions in alphabetical categories - i made each category based on the first word I could think of in alphabetical order, so enjoy!

Decided to try and answer these using Gifs and Images of My characters (aka who or what reminds me of My character)

Going to start with My Flash character Renee West. My OC is mainly “played by” Lyndsy Fonseca. 

A: Aptitude 1. what are your oc’s natural abilities, things they’ve been doing since young?   Science and Writing.

2. what activities have they participated in? 

Took Journalism and Fashion Design in College 

(accurate except she doesn’t smoke or wear a beret.)

3. what abilities do they have?  Can create Lightning and thunderstorms via the weather.

Also Obsidian Storm but she’s less of a power and more like another person inside Renee (like Killer Frost)

4. what things are they bad at? Skill wise,anything involving putting something together. (unless it’s making a suit) Her Scientific interests mainly involved numbers,math and the human psyche. 

5. what is their most impressive talent? um her powers. Not magical her Forensic talents.

Renee actually does Forensic facial reconstruction (Digitally) but I couldn’t find a gif,not even from Bones!

B: Basics 1. what is their hair color? (More Brown then red though)

Gets white streaks when Obsidian is present. 

2. what is their eye color? Blue Green. Becomes lighter and laced with Lightning when Obsidian Storm. 

3. how tall are they? All My female characters are under 6′0″ (unless they’re supernatural) 

4. how old are they? 28 (March 18) 

5. how much do they weigh?

C: Comfort 1. how do they sit in a chair? 

2. in what position do they sleep? On her back,but she moves around alot. 

3. what is their ideal comfort day? Hanging out at home with her S.O. Cuddling and watching a movie Or going out to a nice restaurant or a coffee shop. Shopping and hanging out with her Friends. 

4. what is their major comfort food? A Home cooked meal. If not then Chinese Takeout,Coffee or Big Belly Burger. 

 5. who is the best at comforting them when down? Caitlin or her Dad Joe. HR and Harry as well. 

D: Decoration 1. how would they decorate a house if they had one under their name? Well Harry bought her a Penthouse. It’s very rich looking,cream colored walls,Expansive Living room and nice leather furniture. 

2. how would they decorate their child’s room? I don’t think she’ll ever have a kid plus she is a Stepmother to Jessie. 

 3. how do they decorate their own room? A mixture of these with some blue mood lighting at night and pictures or a painting of Thunderstorms. 

(Chair,Colors and Jewelry or pressed flowers on the wall)

(Bed,Footstool,Design and Lamps)

4. what type of clothes and accessories do they wear? Renee’s style seems to fluctuate but it leans towards more classic with bright,Dark or creme colors,statement Jewelry with an edge. More Casual and Sporty while at home or Training. Classy if she’s dressing up. 

 5. do they like makeup/nail/beauty trends? She doesn’t go out of her way to watch Trends. But she likes to look nice in public and is especially mindful of her makeup. 

E: External Personality 1. does the way they do things portray their internal personality? I guess..She’s not fake if that’s what you mean. 

2. do they do things that conform to the norm? lol no not really.

3. do they follow trends or do their own thing? A bit of both. 

 4. are they up-to-date on the internet fads? 

5. do they portray their personality intentionally or let people figure it out on their own? Again she’s not fake. But she’s also not the mysterious type either. Takes a bit until you meet Obsidian Storm though. 

F: Fun 1. what do they do for fun? Already answered.

2. what is their ideal party? Something Classy or themed. 

3. who would they have the most fun with? Her Best Friends Cisco & Caitlin,Her Sister Iris or HR.

4. can they have fun while conforming to rules? lol yes well as Renee anyway...

5. do they go out a lot? Yeah,when she’s not working. 

G: Gorgeous 1. what is their most attractive external feature? Hair or eyes.

2. what is the most attractive part of their personality? Her intelligence but also her optimism to never give up on Friends,Family or relationships. Her Inner and outer Strength. 

 3. what benefits come with being their friend? Loyalty,a good listener,someone who always has your back. 

 4. what parts of them do they like and dislike? She both likes and dislikes her optimism,sometimes,like with S.O’s,she dislikes how optimistic or forgiving she can be. 

5. what parts of others do they envy? She wishes she was as smart in the medical field as Caitlin is and she wishes she were more realistic like Joe.

H: Heat 1. do they rather a hot or cold room? 

2. do they prefer summer or winter? Winter

3. do they like the snow? Yes.

4. do they have a favorite summer activity? Going to the beach,late night bar hopping or Shopping.

5. do they have a favorite winter activity? Again more Shopping lol,staying home with a good book or cuddling with her S.O’s watching a movie. 

I: In-the-closet 1. what is their sexuality? Bi Sexaul (But prefers Men). Polyamoures. 

2. have they ever questioned their sexuality? No

3. have they ever questioned their gender? No

4. would/was their family be okay with them being LGBT? Yes

 5. how long would/did it take for them to come out? She was out in High School.

J: Joy 1. what makes them happy? Date nights,a good movie or book,nice things,adventure,her job,good food. 

2. who makes them happy? Her Family (Joe,Wally,Iris and Barry) her Friends (Caitlin,Cisco,Felicity & The Legends) Her S.O’s (Thawne and The Wells’s.) & Obsidian Storm who has become like a Twin to her.

3. are there any songs that bring them joy? Wow I have a whole playlist...The songs that describe her and Storm though would be. 

Hey Violet-Guys My Age

Hey Violet-Brand New Moves

Mischa Book Chillak-Ready or Not

Ruelle-Genesis

4. are they happy often? I think this gif about sums it up,even though she’s a Pisces,her life doesn’t let her be the eternal optimist and she is overly emotional and Sensitive. 

5. what brings them the most joy in the world?

K: Kill 1. have they ever thought about suicide? I don’t write that. They may have dark thoughts but never act on them,this is not 13 reasons why.

2. have they ever thought about homicide? Um as in Killing someone? As Obsidian Storm yes. No not Harry! He’s just in the gif. 

3. if they could kill anyone without punishment, would they? who? Maybe Storm would want to kill Savitar but I think Renee would stop her before it got that far. 

4. who would miss them if they died? EVERYONE. Eobard was furious after Renee died in the future and Harry & HR were beside themselves when they thought she was going to die after what happens at the end. 

5. who would be happy they died, anyone? No,idk Savitar was the one that killed her in the future. 

L: Lemons 1. what is their favorite fruit? 2. what is their least favorite fruit? 

3. are there any foods they hate? 

4. do they have any food intolerances? 

5. what is their favorite food?

M: Maternal 1. would they want a daughter or a son? Wouldn’t really care.

2. how many children do they want? 1 or 2

3. would they be a good parent? Yes

4. what would they name a son? Harrison

what would they name a daughter? Harriet 

5. would they adopt? Possibly

N: Never Have I Ever 

1. what would they never do? Not sure but I know their Dislikes. Obsidian is very much a Pisces when it comes to their Dislikes (hates Authority & Criticism,dislikes crowds.) Renee’s dislikes would be being clumsy (much more so as a Teen),Judgemental or non supportive people,Not being mentally stimulated,being rushed,lack of money.They both dislike a lack of freedom.

2. what have they never done that they want to do? Skydiving or Snowboarding.

3. is there anything they absolutely can’t believe people do? Judge others without knowing them.

4. what is the most embarrassing thing they’ve done? 

5. have they done anything they thought they’d never do? Traveled the world.Being with a Speedster had it’s advantages. 

O: Optimism 1. are they optimistic or pessimistic? 

2. are they openly optimistic? 

 3. are they good at giving advice?

 4. is there anyone in their life that throws optimism on them? 

5. were they always optimistic?

>>>P: Personality 1. what is their best personality trait? 

2. what is their worst personality trait? 

3. what of their personality do others love? 

4. what of their personality do others envy? 

5. do they hate anything about their personality/about other’s personalities? <<<Might fill that out later,

Q: Questions 1. do they ask for help?

 2. do they ask questions in class?

 3. do they answer questions that make them a little uncomfortable? 

4. do they ask weird questions? 

5. are they curious?

R: Rules 1. do they follow rules? Sometimes.

 2. would they be a strict or laid-back parent? A good balance. 

3. have they ever been consequences for breaking a rule? I mean being kicked out of Team Flash for one. 

4. have they broken any rules they now regret breaking? I think she regrets leaving everyone after Eobard “Died” and joining The Rogues,becoming a thief/ villain. but only partly because then she would never have met (and dated) Snart and Rory. Also regrets joining The Young Rogues more recently. 

5. do they find any rules they/others follow absolutely ridiculous? Obsidian finds most rules ridiculous lol.

S: Streets 1. are they street-smart? Yes

2. would they give money to someone on the streets? Probably

3. have they ever gotten in a fight on the streets? Yes

4. has anything happened to them on the streets? Other then Fights,no.

5. are they cautious when out? a bit but with Storm watching her back and being trained in hand to hand combat,she really doesn’t need to be. 

T: Truth 1. are they honest? Renee is.

 2. can they tell if someone is lying? Yes

3. is it obvious when they’re lying? Not always

 4. have they lied about anything they regret lying about? Lying to Team Flash and Sherloque about her and Nora seeing Thawne in the future.

5. have they ever been talked about behind there back? I doubt it.

U: Underdog 1. have they been bullied? 

2. have they bullied anyone? 

3. have they been physically attacked? Duh she’s a Meta.

4. have they ever been doubted? Yes.

5. have they surprised people with being good at something? Surprised Harry with how smart and resourceful she is. (when they first met)

V: Vomit 1. do they vomit often? 2. do they get lots of stomach aches? 3. are they good at comforting someone ill? 4. what do they like as far as comfort goes? 5. do they burp, cough, or hiccup most when nauseous? when vomiting?

W: Water 1. do they drink enough water? 2. have they learned to swim? 3. do they like to swim? 4. can they dive? 5. can they swim without holding their nose?

X: Xylophone 1. what is their favorite genre of music? Pop,Hair Metal or Indie

2. do they have a favorite song? Poison ‘Talk Dirty to me.’

3. do they have a favorite band/artist/singer? Lady Gaga,Ruelle & Poison

4. can they sing well? Sure

5. can they rap? lol No I don’t think I have any rappers,maybe Suzanna in private.

Y: You 1. how old were you when you created them? It was in 2017.

2. what inspired you to create them? Watching The Flash

3. were they different when they were first created? No

4. do you enjoy writing them more than other characters? I think she’s easier to write then alot of My characters (aside from Suzanna My TWD Character) 

5. what’s your favorite thing about them? Her Wit,Intelligence,open mindedness,I love writing the duality between her and Storm and of course her different relationships with Thawne and The Wells’s. 

Z: Zebra 1. what’s their favorite animal? 2. do they like animals? 3. cats or dogs? 4. what’s their dream pet? 5. do they have any pets at the moment?

[vclmircs]

✘ ------ yelloooo, this is renee speakin’! i’m eighteen years young, residing somewhere in the cst timezone, and i prefer the pronouns she/her! there isn’t much to know abt me except for the fact that i love, love, love my manz one direction (bring them back, i beg), and i have an odd obsession w angst, so BRING ME THOSE PLOTS. but anywho, this is my baby valmira, ‘n’ there’s some more stuff about her under the cut! the most important thing to note is that val is a demi-girl, meaning she identifies as both she/her and they/them! so whichever you are comfortable with using, she and i are down for. also, i’m all for organic plotting and chemistry, but if you all would like to either read up on her more HERE or look at plots HERE, you’re free to do so!! now onto the good stuff :P

so basically val is the daughter of an actress and a musician and grew up in new york, new york !! yeehaw

she was mostly ignored her entire childhood bc of her parent’s demanding careers, but her father actually tried to be around, unlike her mother -- so she’s partial to her dadda

she’s very easily bored and adventurous, and it shows in her very upfront and playful attitude 

basically she is a big flower child and loves all things nature and is really chill until you wanna debate and then she gets heated, AND SHE IS A DEMI GIRL !! HER PARENTS ARE VERY SUPPORTIVE OF IT N SHE FEELS BLESSED !! SHE REALIZED IT AROUND THE AGE OF 13 AND HAS NEVER LOOKED BACK

she moved to fashion valley to pursue normality and is currently enrolled at the uni to study music, THOUGH SHE DOESN'T WANNA BE FAMOUS LIKE HER PAPA. she mainly is into producing and writing music 

she !! loves !! the !! beach !! so naturally, she lives in la jolla beach #confirmed

just recently her parent’s announced to her that they were divorcing, and while that wasn’t a big surprise to her, it’s changed her outlook on love, and she’s decided she’d much rather have fun than be tied down. SHE IS ALSO PAN-SEXUAL !! she doesn't have a preferance on gender either, so give me the lovins

she’s a big fan of smoking someone please stop her of that bad habit

she also likes alcohol, and though she doesn’t have a problem with drinking, she frequents the bars

OH !! she was basically raised by her nanny, so she’s extremely keen on her

there isn’t much else

i don’t know what to say

she’s basically just this hippie child living in the modern age

um

talk to me

[abutterflyobsession]

Things You Said Too Quietly

@ankewehner prompted this for Kinda Subtle (aka Stuff and Thang). It ended up being in Art School AU and they are therefore named Steph and Thane.

Thank you for this prompt, I’ve never really written these two and I had a lot of fun!

“Thane!”

Thane shook his head, thinking he might have heard something. It was probably Bog and he had probably been calling for awhile now. Thane wondered if he pretended to be oblivious and just continued working Bog would give up. With unsteady fingers, Thane lined up another nail to hammer into the wall frame he was working on.

A large hand in a heavy work-glove landed on his shoulder, making him flinch.

“Oh, hi, Steph,” Thane said, breaking into a grin in his relief that it wasn't Bog behind him, “W-what's up?”

Steph said something that Thane didn't catch but it was easy to tell from her expression that she was impatient and irritated. Thane pushed up his glasses and focused in the faint grumble of Steph's voice, blocking out the racket of construction around him.

“--wrong wall.”

“Long fall? Long fall from where?”

“Wrong wall. You're working on the wrong wall.”

“I am?” Thane looked around in surprise. He had been sure Bog had said this wall.

“We've got to finish the frame on the other side before we can put this one in place. Weren't you listening this morning?”

“I . . . yes? Sorry?” Thane shoved his hardhat back when it slipped forward, “I was listening. Very hard.”

“Yeah, but how much did you hear?” Steph asked, hands on her wide hips.

“ . . . a bit?”

“A bit,” Steph said flatly. She turned away, saying something else that Thane couldn't catch.

“What?” he asked, coming around so he could see her face. It wasn't that he could lip-read, exactly, but seeing people's faces when they were talking helped give some context.

“Nothing,” Steph shook her head, “just do what you were doing, but do it on that wall.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

Thane scurried over to where he had been directed, shrinking his small frame a little lower to avoid the dark looks Bog was casting at him. Steph followed behind, handing Thane the hammer he had left by the wrong wall in his hurry to correct himself.

Steph's cool competence was something Thane both admired and envied. Nothing rattled her. Not even Bog, most of the time. She did her work well and quickly without having to be told twice and could lift massive piles of construction materials on her broad shoulders like it was nothing. She could probably kill someone with her bare hands without ever breaking out of her deadpan expression.

Thane sighed wistfully. She was so gorgeous.

“Why haven't you gotten your hearing aides yet?” Steph asked that evening at the bar.

Most of the construction crew came here at the end of the day to grab a beer and watch whatever game happened to be on. Steph had a beer. Thane had a drink that he could never remember the name of but it had a little umbrella stuck in it so it looked sort of tropical. Steph always ordered it for him because whenever Thane talked to the bartender everyone got frustrated.

“I'm still talking with the insurance company about the hearing aides. They're expensive and they don't want to cover it unless I really need them.”

“Well, if they talked to you they should know you need them.”

“Yeah,” Thane said with a weak laugh, “sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Steph rumbled.

Thane tried not to sigh. Steph had such a beautiful, deep voice. Apparently it was a common trait among the women of her family, enhanced in Steph's case by years of smoking. She had quit that a few years back because Bog didn't allow cigarettes on site and it was just too much bother to dodge across the street all the time just to get a nicotine fix.

Steph said something else.

“What? Deer fruit?”

“Nothing.”

Steph waved a large hand. A couple of bangles on her wrist gleamed in the dim light. Once the work day was over she'd put a couple of flower clips in her hair and don a few odds and ends of jewelry. Then a touch of green eyeshadow and a light coat of golden sparkles on her dark face. She had referred to this on occasion as, “the lingering effects of culturally enforced gender roles.”

Thane thought she looked nice.

“Talk to Bog,” Steph said, returning to the topic of Thane's hearing aides, “He'll help you wrangle with the insurance people.”

Thane slid a few inches down in his chair, “He doesn't like me.”

“Yes, he does.”

“What, really?” Thane scooted back up.

“Everybody likes you. They think you're . . . that you're . . .”

Thane squinted, trying to see Steph's face, but the light was behind her, “Mute?” he guessed, “Loot?”

“They like you,” Steph said firmly.

“I'm annoying,” Thane said, picking at the pattern of his yellow knit vest. He liked to dress up nice, but he was never sure he got it right. Most people seemed to think his yellow vests were funny and that his thick-framed glasses make him even more goggle-eyed.

Steph always said he looked okay, though.

“Nah, you're . . .”

“Feet? Did you say feet? Do I smell like feet? I changed my shirt and socks and everything after work, why would I--”

“You smell fine. C'mon, let's pay the tab and split.”

Steph and Thane lived in the same apartment building so she always gave him a ride back.

Thane had a car but driving made him nervous. They had first gotten to know each other after Thane got into a small fender bender on the way to work and Bog sent Steph to pick him up. She found him having a low key meltdown and profusely and repeatedly apologizing to everyone involved. Steph had proceeded to stick him in the back of her car, take his insurance papers out of his hand, and give him a package of twinkies. Somehow she sorted everything out  and they were on their way to the site not even ten minutes after Steph had arrived at the accident.

After that they always carpooled. Neither of them suggested it, Steph just knocked on his apartment door one morning and said they were taking her car. And that was that.

Thane had found himself instantly smitten with this efficient amazon and often found himself feeling glum because she was so far out of his league. He was sure she must think he was kind of a loser, and probably thought his skinny frame laughable. He was stronger than he looked, but that didn't seem to matter to anyone. All they saw was a nervous little man with goggle eyes.

Going about his usual nightly routines, Thane thought about talking to Bog about the whole insurance business. Steph seemed to think it was a good idea. But, Thane thought as he sprinkled food into his goldfish's tank, Steph was Steph. She wasn't afraid of anything.

The goldfish—Phil—gulped down his dinner with gusto. He had originally belonged to Steph, until Thane had visited her apartment and flipped out. Thane still winced at the memory. But she had been keeping Phil in a bowl. No room, no filter, nothing. He had confiscated the mistreated fish and stormed off back to his apartment in a huff.

He had spent the night clutching the fish bowl and freaking out over shouting at Steph, the beautiful, super-smart, super-cool Steph. After that she definitely thought he was a weirdo. And a fish kidnapper. But the next morning Steph had knocked on the door to take him to work. Once they got into the car she said in her usual gruff voice, “I didn't know you shouldn't keep goldfish in bowls. What should I get to put him in?”

Thane was pretty sure that was the moment he fell completely in love with her.

Thane had an old tank in storage and they set it up in his apartment and decided on joint custody of Phil, who had since grown to be two inches longer in the space of his new home.

“What do you think, Phil? Should I call Bog for help?”

Phil mouthed soundlessly at Thane.

“That's what everybody says.”

A couple of weeks later Thane dashed down to Steph's apartment, tripping on the stairs and nearly tumbling down them head-first.

“Steph, Steph, it came, it came!”

“What came?” Steph asked, filling the open door with her large body. Her hair was frizzy like she had just gotten out of bed.

Thane shrank down a few inches, “Were you asleep?”

“Don't feel well. Got a cold.”

“Oh, um, I just . . . I ordered a DVD of Trolls and it finally came today. I thought you would watch it with me, but . . . sorry.”

“Is that ice-cream?”

“Yeah. Pistachio.”

“I will watch anything if you bring that ice-cream in here.”

“Okay!” Thane bounced into the apartment, heading for the DVD player.

Behind him, Steph shut the door and let out a raspy little sigh, “This is exactly why I love you, you adorable idiot.”

Thane froze, the DVD case falling out of his hand.

He had . . . no, that had definitely not . . . he had misheard again . . . but . . .

Very slowly, Thane turned around to face Steph. She looked at his shocked face with confusion.

“What, is it the wrong movie?”

“I—I also came today to tell you that—that I talked to Bog like you said and I got . . .” Thane swallowed hard, trying to get his voice to come out stronger than a pained whisper, “I got my hearing aides today.”

There was a subtle play of expressions on Steph's face. There was the beginning of a pleased smile which was cut off by a look of confusion before a look of shock swept everything else away.

“You heard me.”

“Yes.”

“That—that's great.”

“Y-yeah, I spent all morning listening to birds . . .”

“That is . . .” Steph covered her mouth with one hand, but Thane could still hear her, “. . . adorable.”

A electric shock tingled down Thane's spine as a rare moment of clarity lit up his brain, “Fruit! Deer fruit! You were saying—did you say—you're cute?”

A long pause.

“Yes.”

“Do you . . .” Thane was hugging the carton of ice-cream and the frost on the outside was melting and making his shirt damp, “I mean, I've always . . . you're so . . . awesome. You think I'm cute?”

“You are so flipping adorable I can't stand it.”

“You like me?”

Steph put her fists on her hips and look off to the side, “Yeah.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. Is that so weird? You're just so sweet and happy all the time . . .”

“But I'm so dumb. And my eyes are all bugged and I'm annoying and I never do anything right and--”

Steph walked over to him and took the carton of ice-cream out of his arms. The sides of it were cracked and smears of green ice-cream were leaking out. She set it on the coffee table and then wrapped Thane in a hug.

“It's okay, stop freaking out.”

“But, but--”

“Calm down, okay?”

Thane found himself exactly where he had wanted to be since he had met Steph. And it was as nice as he had imagined. She was very strong, but also soft and warm.

“You smell real good,” he sighed.

“Thanks,” Steph patted his head, “So . . . do you like me?”

“Of course!”

“Okay, good. I had to check.”

Steph bent down to kiss him and Thane saw stars.

[spanlish-blog]

White Privilege as a Western Student in China

When some friends of mine came back from an exchange program in Beijing, each with a wad of $1,200 in cash they'd received from the Chinese government, my response was, "Um, what?"

The cash was their scholarship money, given to them in crisp 100 yuan bills after class one day.

Turns out you don't need a 4.0—or even a 2.5—to get that kind of money. After interviewing several more exchange students about their experiences in China, I learned that even if your grades are "shit," you might still be offered a scholarship, free accommodation, and a monthly allowance to study in the Middle Kingdom.

You may also get free booze, free entry into clubs, and professors who won't care if you skip class or use your phone during an exam. These are tough things to resist when you're a broke college student who'd rather explore the city than actually attend your lectures.

"Foreigners enjoy a very favorable situation in China, for sure," says Jon*, who worked at a Chinese university as a liaison between international business students and the staff. "If you go to a club, yes, you'll get free drinks, and you'll get in for free. Whereas Chinese people still have to pay."

These perks are a way for China to make itself more appealing to foreigners, who, Jon says, are still viewed by Chinese citizens as "super powers" and also enjoy advantages like higher wages and better job opportunities than locals.

But according to students I spoke with, not all exchange students are treated equally. While white skin awards you near-celebrity status, black skin might get you spat on outside a McDonald's or labeled as "dangerous." You might also be sized up according to your assumed race and gender at clubs, then treated in accordance with that value.

Hello again, white privilege.

For the purposes of global education, VICE has included six stories about what it's really like to live and study in China and why being treated like a VIP can either be wildly fun or weirdly dehumanizing.

Ashton*, 25 Exchange Student From: Germany Program: Marketing

In 2015, I went on a six-month exchange program to China. I really had no restrictions at the university. You're late? It's fine. You want to change your exam date? Fine. It's easy to use; "this is how we do things in Germany" as a justification for anything. Even bringing your phone to an exam. I'm actually going back there for my master's degree because it'll be easy for me to get good grades. I tried to find a program in Germany or the Netherlands, but it was really difficult because my grades are shit. When I asked my old university in China if they had any programs in management, they said: "Yes, of course, we'll give you a scholarship." They're also giving me free housing, an allowance per month, and no tuition fees. So I said, "OK, yeah, I'm coming back." But all this makes you feel pretty weird because while a lot of non-white foreigners are just so fucking happy to have the chance to come to China, you're only there because it's free. For example, I'm in a WhatsApp group with 40 people who have applied for scholarships in China. There are three Westerners and 37 people from either Africa, Bangladesh, or Pakistan. The only people who got replies from the university were the three Westerners.

Before my trip, I'd heard China preferred foreigners at clubs, but I didn't understand the racism until I went there. My ex-girlfriend was a promoter at one of these clubs—she sold guest list spots to people—and got paid according to what types of people she brought in. Non-Western foreigners were level one and worth nearly nothing to promoters. The second level was Western foreigners, and the third level was pretty girls. So there was a man at the door checking "is she pretty or not pretty?" and if she was pretty, the promoter would get more money for bringing her in. The last level was models—like real models, ones staying in Beijing for shoots and stuff. Promoters would get about $20 for bringing them in.

It's also normal to get free drinks the whole night if you're white. For my farewell party, we went to a club, and there were ten people, six of them blond girls. We got two bottles of Grey Goose—worth about $300 in that club—all for free. I felt like a king at first, but it was also really weird. They were catering to our every need, and we didn't pay a thing.

It's hard to enter certain clubs if you're with black people. I have a friend from Mozambique, and once we went to a really nice club and booked a table in advance. We all met at the entrance—five Westerners and one black person—and the promoter was like, "Yeah, you cannot enter." When we asked why, he told us it was because my friend looked dangerous, which was just crazy. We argued with the guy for about 15 minutes and told him that if he didn't let us in, we'd post on WeChat that the club was racist, and so he finally let us in. From there, it was open bar all night.

Sami, 25 Exchange Student from: Finland Studying: Law

I studied international and Chinese law in Beijing, and the first night I was there, I went out with some master's students, and they took us out to a street filled with different clubs. We got in free to all of the clubs; all the alcohol was free, and we got VIP tables. That first night I was like, "Woah, what is this?" I'm not sure if it felt wrong, but it felt weird. There'd be big lines of Chinese people waiting to get in, and we'd walk right by. Also, we went to this pretty famous club in the center of Shanghai—it's called M1NT, they've got sharks in the dance floor—and again, we just walked past this huge line, got VIP cards, and also free alcohol the whole night. Just because we were European. All the free stuff and better treatment was fun in the beginning, but in the long run, it felt... it didn't feel good.

I got preferential treatment outside the party scene, too. When my parents came to visit, we went to a restaurant that was a little fancier. I didn't book a reservation, and so there was a two-hour wait when we got there. We thought, Well, that's OK, we'll go shopping for a bit. But when we left, the staff came running after us and said, "Wait, we have a free table for you." We thought that since it was just the three of us, maybe a small table had opened up and that's why we got in, but inside there was a whole other room full of Chinese people still waiting. Throughout the meal we had four waiters serving us, people taking photos of us, and the whole experience was very strange. In China, you're often perceived as super rich if you're Western. They think you have a lot of money and you're there to party, and that's it. It gets annoying because in reality most of us are there because of grants, scholarships, and wanting to travel; we even take out loans to do it.

Erin*, 24 Exchange Student from: Canada Studying: Law

My boyfriend and I chose to study abroad in Beijing this past summer through a program where Chinese government scholarships are available for Canadian students. Being fairly poor law students who love to travel, we were pretty intrigued by the idea of government funding.

We didn't know when we would be getting our scholarship—$1,200—or even how it would be given to us. We didn't get anything when we arrived, which we thought was a little odd, but then during our last week, a Chinese student came to the front of the class and was like, "Hey, everyone, your money's here!" Everyone cheered. Then the next day they brought in cash—stacks of freshly printed 100 yuan bills, all put into envelopes and stored up in the program administrator's office. So, 80 students lined up in the hallway, all waiting for their $1,200. Considering you can buy lunch for the equivalent of $0.80, it was a ton of money to have in cash.

Edson, 21 Exchange Student from: Africa Studying: Accounting

There aren't many black people in China. I didn't want to study abroad there, but in recent years China has been investing a lot in Africa, so our government has started giving scholarships to students. From the moment I got there, things were just really different. I walked out of the airport, and my nose just started itching. There was so much pollution. I thought instantly: This place isn't good for me. Then came the stares on the train. People look at you as if you're really, really different; they've never seen someone like you, and so they take pictures.

China is growing economically, about 6 percent every year, but I don't think it's a good place to study. Some foreigners really like it because of all the free stuff. I mean, I still got the free drinks and free entry into the clubs, but it would depend on what kind of club it was and who I was with. I was with a bunch of friends from the Netherlands most times, and so I was viewed as part of their group. Actually, most people would assume that since I'm black and speak English, I must be American. And if you're American or European, Chinese girls love it, but I didn't like the attention because I'd rather be liked for who I am. The fact is if you tell them you're African, you're viewed as poor, like you don't know what an iPhone is, etc.

There were only two black people in the entire university, which was a problem for me. I would invite people in my class to go to clubs, or I'd say, "Hey, let's grab a drink or something," because I wanted to make friendships with the Chinese students. But they'd say they had to go to the library. Every time it was the same: "I have to go to the library." I tried to make friends, but they didn't let me in. Eventually, I met some people from Europe and just hung out with them. And so I didn't go to a lot of classes. My teachers never gave me a hard time about it because I think they knew it was difficult fitting in. I could do whatever I wanted. In that way, I was treated basically the same as the white students.

I remember one very sad day in particular. In China, they have a habit of spitting on the floor, and so one day I went to McDonald's and bought a Big Mac. As I was leaving, there was a Chinese man who spit on my shirt. I don't know why he did it. Anyway, I thought maybe it was a mistake, but when I looked at him, he didn't say sorry, just gave a look like "I don't like you" or something. I was sad but also angry. I didn't do anything, just walked away. And that was when I thought, You know, I can't put up with this bullshit anymore. It's too hard. I wasn't OK with myself over there.

Jackie*, 26 Exchange Student from: Canada Studying: Law

I went on a summer exchange program to China, and afterward, I got an internship at a big law firm in Beijing. At the firm, some other interns and I would get invited every week or two to go have dinner with a group of lawyers from the firm. They'd bring us to these fancy restaurants, and they'd pay the bill, and you knew it wasn't the type of dinner they were inviting their Chinese colleagues to every week. We got invites because we were international interns. And even though I was the only white person in this particular group of interns, I was the only one they invited personally, and from there, they allowed me to bring friends. Once, during dinner, the woman who invited us was really making sure we were having a good time. She even started to dance and sing. Often, my friends and I would go out as a big group, and night after night our table would be given several bottles of spirits, solely based on the color of our skin. Some people in my group would abstain from drinking because it was discriminatory, like white privilege at its finest. That's the kind of racial privilege caucasian people have access to in Beijing. That said, we always hear that China is taking a bigger place in the world and its economy, and so it's good to go there and see what's behind these great firewalls that prevent us from exchanging with them.

There's also a local version of Tinder, it's called Tantan, and if you're a foreigner, this app can really open some doors if you're looking to meet new people. Some of the people in my group were using it, and every single time they'd swipe, they'd get a swipe back in return. If you're white, it just isn't the same game.

Shaun, 26 Exchange Student from: Canada Studying: Law

During my exchange program, I was photographed quite often. I remember being approached three distinct times, and each time it happened at a pretty big tourist attraction. I'm tall and caucasian, and from what I heard, Chinese people are interested in photographing someone like me because by doing so they can show their family and friends that the places they're visiting have such a high status that they attract white Westerners as well. It's like, "Look, this place is so cool, even this white guy went there!" I just kind of went along with it because I didn't feel like it was doing any harm, but it always felt a little awkward. It's like, why me? It's uncomfortable to be this, well, image of beauty or whatever. But I also think it's learned behavior culturally. One time my girlfriend and I were approached by a family, and the mother and grandmother were super into getting a picture with us, but their six-year-old daughter wanted nothing to do with it. It was like she hadn't learned the rule about wanting photos with white people.

*Names have been changed.

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Source: White Privilege as a Western Student in China Source: White Privilege as a Western Student in China