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20dollarlolita · 3 months

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The process of how I bought my wheelchairs.

Someone's asked for help on this, and I've written a couple of really thorough posts that I never published, but here's the short I intended this to be short, but it's not version.

IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: This is not medical advice. I cannot provide medical advice. I am sharing my own experience, and it should not be used as your only research for this issue. Any time I am saying, "you," please note that it is a style choice to use the second person, and not an indication of giving advice.

Quick note: if your doctor prescribed you a chair, make sure you know what kind of chair was prescribed, and why. The best chair in the world is still awful if it doesn't do what you need.

Also if your insurance will cover a wheelchair then, once you've made sure that your insurance will cover the chair you need, make the smart choice about where you'll buy these things.

The first time that I was using a wheelchair full time, I was borrowing this one from a friend. This chair is about $500, so when I was buying my first chair for myself, I was looking at that price point. If a chair I was considering was notably more than $500, I knew I could just get my own copy of this chair that I was already comfortable with. The chair that I was borrowing was three years old and had been heavily used, so I was confident in this model's lifespan.

The other big advantage of this is that it ships free with Prime, which meant that it was easy to send to a friend when I was tired of watching her use a inexpensive chair to get around the Disney parks.

But then I went on ebay and learned about the magical world of secondhand wheelchairs. The short version of the story is that a wheelchair can outlive someone's need for it, and so it's not super uncommon to see someone selling an older wheelchair for much less than the chair is new. A lot of the time, these are custom or modular chairs. Instead of a basic chair that's set up to one-size-fits-probably-most, modular and custom chairs have 10+ pages of options to select from in their order form. When you're buying a new custom chair, you pick every option to make sure it's perfect for you. When your goal to buying a used chair is to just get one that's better for you than a Drive Super Sport one-size-fits-hopefully-you chair, the secret to buying on ebay is to find out what features you absolutely need, and then to check the other elements of the chair and see if they will work for you.

Quick note, at the time that I was buying my wheelchair, I actually already owned a wheelchair, and had decided it wasn't going to work for me to use full-time. This is an Invacare Tracer and it was, according to the tag, stolen from a wheelchair rental place in 2010, and according to my mom, stolen from my neighbor's to-be-burned pile in 2019. So if we don't count alleged crime as a cost, this wheelchair was free. This is a great example of a chair that's set up to be one-size-fits-no-one-perfectly.

This wheelchair would be better than nothing, but it's heavy, the wheels are really far back, and it doesn't really fit in my car. The tires have no tread and are pretty worn, so they don't do great for outdoor offroading. All detachable parts of this (armrests, foot rests) had been lost a decade ago, and they're not cheap to replace. I already knew what kind of budget I was willing to spend, and I felt that just using this as my main mode of movement wasn't going to be worth the saving of the $500.

I do still use this wheelchair a LOT in my house, because it's a pain to get my real wheelchair out of my car and into my house (because stairs), but I wouldn't feel confident taking it out on the town unless I have someone to push me.

So the secret to buying a wheelchair on ebay is a three step process:

Determine how much money you're able to spend. The best wheelchair in the world isn't going to do you any good if you can't actually get it.

Determine what main features you want in a chair, and look for those.

When you find a chair that has those features at that price, check to see if everything else in the chair works for you.

(Secret step 4: be lucky enough to have someone listing the chair you need).

So I picked this chair (Which is a Quickie 2 Lite) mostly because the Medwarm wheelchair had been a bit too wide for me. This chair was narrower and had a lot of the traits of the Medwarm chair that I'd liked. It folded, had 24" wheels with tread, had feet plates that didn't stick way out in front. I didn't actually know how any of that felt until I had it, because I didn't have experience with multiple wheelchairs. My inexperience gave me a superpower, which was that I didn't need to get so critical of certain traits, because I had no idea what any of that meant.

Shipped and with tax, this was $400. At the time, I just went, "hey, this is like the wheelchair that I want, but without the negative trait of being as wide, and it's $100 less."

The main this about this chair that I learned that I love is that the center of gravity is farther forward than on the Medwarm chair (I believe it's set to +1"). This gave me a lot more power pushing myself. When I was using the Medwarm chair, it wasn't uncommon for me to ask friends to push me long distances. I very rarely needed that in the Quickie2.

But I did have to replace it.

Short version of a long story was that when I went to being a most-time wheelchair user, the seat of my chair got smaller relative to my body. I'd picked a narrower chair because it was easier to navigate the world, but I'd actually picked a chair that was becoming too small for me to fit my Kitten Holding Legs into. I looked into getting a new chair.

So let's talk about the wheelchair that I bought and couldn't use. We learn from our wins and our misses.

This is a 19" Catalyst 5. There's a few problems with this one for me, but they all sum up to (for me personally) that it had more negative (to me) traits than the Medwarm one, but also was more expensive. I'd picked this one because it looked like it'd be more like my Quickie2 than like the Medwarm, but it just wasn't good for me.

My Quickie2's narrow, so I could put my feet right next to each other. This was the most comfortable way for me to sit. The way that KI measures a Catalyst frame and the way Quickie measures a Quickie 2 frame are different. My 15" frame Quickie 2 had a 14" wide seat, and this 19" Catalyst 5 had a 22" wide frame. The first time that I unfolded it, I knew that it was just too big for me to use comfortably. In addition, I didn't like the solid low-profile tires. I didn't like how far away the wheels were. It also had a really nice quality back, but the back had to be removed to fold the chair, so it was another step to take in and out of my car. It was also about 2" shorter at the seat than my old chair, and I already deal with being too short for my store's counters, so I didn't like losing that height.

So this was a case where I looked for traits that I thought I wanted: folding, wider seat. Then, instead of checking to see if the rest of the traits of the chair were things that I wanted, I just assumed it'd be okay. Personally, it just wasn't the chair for me.

I ended up learning that selling a used wheelchair on ebay is actually pretty easy as well, so the money I lost on this purchase summed up to the cost of a roll of bubble wrap to pack it up to send it to someone who would benefit from it.

When I was looking for my next wheelchair, I had changed what I wanted out of a chair. I knew that I wanted tires with actual tread on them, instead of solid poly smooth tires. I knew that I wanted a wider seat, but not too wide. If it didn't come with a little bit of camber on the wheels (that's where they slant towards the top of the chair), I wanted to be able to add it. I also wanted it to be a minimum of 17" high seat. But the biggest change was that I'd decided that I didn't really need it to be folding.

I drive a hatchback with back seats that can fold down, and I pretty much never have passengers. I decided fuck it, if I'm not driving people, I don't need to keep the seats up, so I could get a non-folding chair and just shove the whole thing in the back without breaking down. Without breaking down the chair. I could still break down. Life is tough sometimes.

So this is a Quickie GT, which is an old, discontinued model. According to the serial number lookup, it was made in 2009. The good news is that it immediately passed the Cat Test.

When I was looking at this chair, I saw that it was designed for people who push themselves, and would probably be less good for someone who needed other people to push them. This wasn't an issue for me, because I hate being pushed.

(same chair plus two cans of spray paint)

This chair was over the $500 budget (it was $670 with shipping and tax), but this time I'd done enough research to be confident that it'd be a lot better for me than the Medwarm chair. I stuck with Quickie as a brand because I felt like I better understood how they size their seats. The serial number lookup said that this chair was 17" wide, so I was ready to get a 16" seat, and that's what I got. It's got pneumatic tires, which don't just have tread but also roll along the ground like bicycle tires. I love this chair. Instead of two separate foot rests, there's just the one, so I'm a lot more comfortable with how I sit.

It does have the downside of this is the smallest it gets without taking off the wheels. The wheels come off easily and so it's not a big problem, but it's more steps to get it into the car if I don't want to fold back my seats. Also, the front plate doesn't flip up or go away, so if I want to propel myself with my foot I'm a lot more limited.

Once I don't need this anymore, I'm also going to need to either sell it or figure out where to store it. I can keep a folding wheelchair in the back of my closet in case I need it again, but this one will be taking up some space.

For all of the chairs that I got, I was really only searching ebay for a couple of days before the right one at the right price showed up. This is somewhat slanted based on what I need, because certain things do show up more often than others, and at different prices. Wider chairs tend to have less selection and be more expensive, while 12-14" wide chairs are really plentiful.

Let's get together and look at some ebay chairs. We're going to search "wheelchair" and set condition to "used". If you plop the sort system into "price+shipping: lowest first" and then start scrolling until you get past all the wheelchair parts and all the "free local pickup: <location that is in another country>" and into the actual wheelchairs that can ship, you can start checking out the market.

I immediately eliminate anything that doesn't have all the parts, that is too expensive, that is only available for pickup, that doesn't have foot rests, or a few other things. The first one that I saw that I didn't elminate was this.

The most important thing from this listing is where they post the serial number.

And that's because KI, Sunrise, and Permobil all keep databases of all the serial numbers of all the chairs they have sold.

You can now go onto a site that sells that chair and look up what all those things mean. Spinlife sells the Catalyst 5Vx, and if you click "help me choose" on an item listing, it'll usually give you pictures of the different options. For me personally, the draw of this one would be that it's a really good price, and it's roughly set up the same as my default Medwarm chair. I don't like the tires but I do like the side guards and arm rest combo.

This was on a listing for a chair where the serial number wouldn't pull up. I wouldn't consider this one since I can't tell the width or depth when the seller won't list it and Sunrise doesn't have it. I'm just dropping this screenshot because "SELLER NOTE TO SELF" and "BUTT PAD NOT INCLUDED" both made me laugh.

As a quick final note, this is not going to be cheaper than getting a really basic wheelchair off Amazon. However, as someone who has used really basic wheelchairs, getting something upgraded has a whole lot of value. One of the reasons why I really like lolita fashion is that we treasure used things that still have use, and so it's also got some value to me to see if I can get something used that still has use. In my experience, things got better when I tried to get something used. If you do want a really basic chair, it might still be worth it to check if they're available for nearby pickup. Plopping my location into "free local pickup within 30 miles" offers me a basic Drive chair for $20. It's reusing something instead of having to throw it away, and it's also $20. Can't argue with $20.

Anyway, that's half diary entry and half possible advice.

#20dollarlolita on wheels #tag later #going o have to actually go tag things later sometime

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engrambug · 2 months

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And she had no fear

There are many reasons why I love (Don't Fear) The Reaper, and none of them have to do with being a legend. Chasing glory will never get you far.

Friends get you far. Love does.

Most of those reasons have to do with how I roleplay my V and what makes more sense for her to choose at the end of it all. She knows that Panam would ride to hell and back with her, same as Rogue would for Johnny, but she'd rather not let anybody else die in her wake. A further reason (a bigger one) is that V doesn't want to surrender her body to Johnny for what could be her final hours. After all they've been through, however, she doesn't want to spend them without him either. They've been through hell and high water together. She had taken his hand, she had become like they are.

CDPR gave us many opportunities to bond with Johnny throughout the game, be it through casual (or not-so-casual) dialogue or by giving him closure with some of his friends and ex-lovers. None of that is enough to unlock this ending, though, and in my opinion that's one small, brilliant detail (among many) in how Johnny was written.

You see, this man had his own way with people for a long, long time. And when they realized what brand of asshole he was, they turned their back on him--which, hey, fair. Now there's this merc he screws over just as he did everybody else who cared about him, and she rightly gives him shit for it. V knows him better than anybody else at this point (Johnny is a literal witness to that knowledge), and yet, she finds it in her to give him another chance. The last one, sure. But nobody had done that before, knowing what she knows.

It's no wonder that the ending in which he trusts V enough to storm Arasaka tower with him, on their lonesome, is only possible when V shows Johnny she trusts him enough not to blow his last chance at friendship.

So yeah, there are a lot of reasons why I absolutely love this ending, and most of them are sappy. Sorry, this was meant to be a funny one. Let's get on with it: Did you know that the Arasaka guards at the HQ will get more scared the longer you fight hordes and hordes of them without going down? I've compiled most, if not all, of them.

They're fairly confident in the lobby. A random merc just strolled in like it was a supermarket, no biggy. Shit starts to get real when the random merc manages to make her way down to netrun operations control.

The sheer panic in their voice is conveyed even through text. Yelling about needing backup, covering fire--wondering how the fuck she's still standing against a building full of Arasaka soldiers. They're not just scared, they're bewildered.

By the time V reaches the tower's mainframe, they know they're not getting out of there alive. Some kind of demon has been unleashed in Arasaka HQ, and they're cannon fodder.

I have to give it to CDPR: They wrote one hell of an end for V's story--both the meaningful trigger and the mission itself, full of little details that make it feel viscerally real. The relic eating away at what's left of V's body while she's still in it; Johnny's help and support, for the first time letting go of the snarky façade; tasting the fear of your enemies in their voice as you perform a feat never seen before. There's no going back if you flatline--it's an all in. You, and the tech that was designed to replace you, fighting side by side against impossible odds.

We all know there are no happy endings in Night City, and Cyberpunk 2077 is a tragedy in three acts. But I would be lying if I said that there is no happiness at all in some of the choices we make, the causes we fight for, or the ways in which we say goodbye.

All in all, I'd say this is a pretty good one.

#cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk 2077 spoilers #don't fear the reaper #johnny silverhand

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gardensofthemoon · 1 month

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20 questions for fic writers

Tagged by the lovelies @ettelene and @tilion-writes, many thanks! Sorry for the late response, been busy with real life commitments.

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 10

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 38,319 words

3. What fandoms do you write for? Currently, Silmarillion and MDZS/The Untamed, though I haven't posted anything yet for the latter.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Fëanor posts on r/amitheasshole

Capodopera

Family Dinner

Immortal Longings

uprooting

5. Do you respond to comments? Yes, always! And I ramble a lot.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Hm. I write quite a bit of angst, and I can think of at least three fics of mine with sad endings, but I think Cardinal takes the cake. It's a bleak end, miserable, made even more so by the relative tenderness of the main story.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Probably Fëanor posts on r/amitheasshole, because it's crack. Nobody dies; is that the low bar for a happy ending in the silm fandom?

8. Do you get hate on fics? So far none, but I expect to get some in the future as I want to write about darker themes. And I'm mentally preparing for posting in a new fandom that's known for its toxicity.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yes, and I plan on writing more! I love shipfic, I love romance, this is the main genre I read in fanfic, so. If I had to classify my style of smut, I'd say it veers into porn with feelings territory. The main sentiment behind my writing, behind all my writing, smutty or not, is yearning. What intrigues me is what the characters are feeling, their thought process, building the tension and portraying their dynamic. I don't think I can write smut just for the sake of smut - and there are so many facets of the characters' personalities that can be explored through their kinks, their bedroom attitude, their emotions and insecurities. Also, I write slash, though I'd like to try my hand at femslash as well.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? No, but I've thought about it. The logistic aspect of it ruins the fun, unfortunately.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? No.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Not yet.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Not sure if they can be considered "all-time" favourites since I got into fandom less than a year ago, but the ships I'm completely obsessed with are Curufin/Finrod for the silm fandom and Jiang Cheng/Wei Wuxian for mdzs/cql.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? My Curufinrod in Valinor fic that I talked about on here. It's a long project and I'm used to writing one-shots, so I keep telling myself I'd work on it and post it once it's finished. Not sure when or if that will happen.

16. What are your writing strengths? Story concepts, comedic timing, eliciting emotions. Prose if I'm feeling confident.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I am always obsessing over sentence structure, conveying tone, and word choice. English not being my native language doesn't help either. Technicalities aside, probably dialogue and longer story arcs.

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

19. First fandom you wrote for? The Silmarillion! Best fandom.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? The second chapter of Capodopera (which is composed of two mirroring one-shots). I think I managed to write precisely the story that I set out to; I'm pleased with everything about it, from the prose to the characterisation, to the escalation and the power shift, to the smut scene. And it doesn't hurt that it's the most self-indulgent thing I've written for my silm otp.

I'd like to tag two of my favourite writers @crackinthecup and @tobermoriansass, I'd be super curious to read your answers!

#tumblr games #fanfic #elio writes

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stayandot8 · 1 year

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Chapter One: Angels Choking On Their Halos

series summary: this one is a little different than anything else I've written. An AU where the members work in a bar with my MC, no idols among them. It's also going to be on the longer side. The fluffy Chris we know and love is nowhere to be found. He's broodier, moodier, and has jokes up the wazoo. So buckle up, kitties. This one's gonna be good 😏.

inspo: the song by Fall Out Boy.

Genre: i'm not really sure tbh

Relationship type: strangers

Important Contents: bar setting, so mentions of alcohol, chris is a lowkey-highkey dick, swearing as usual

WC: ~9k

Next part I masterlist

This wasn’t the place I wanted to work for the rest of my life. This was just a stepping stone for where I wanted to be, a place to gain more experience. Make money for now, save up for later. It would make things easier in the long run and that was what really mattered. It was all part of my plan. Sometimes, plans had to be changed in order to adjust to the moment’s needs.

This was what I would tell myself every time I would get a rude customer or had trouble with anyone I was working with, which wasn’t often. The family I had made here was enough to keep me going through some of the tougher aspects of life: family passing away, money troubles, even a small period of homelessness. The guys here had taken care of me like I was one of them, which I guess I was. They were all like brothers to me, which was inevitable in the three years we had worked together.

Minho’s dad owned the bar so he had to be here to be groomed to take over, not that he didn’t have the wish or experience to. He had longer dark hair that he often put back when he was behind the line. He worked hard, eager to prove himself to his father that he deserved to own the place someday. He was well on his way too; he was the best cook we had. When he clocked in, it was mostly business, not one for too much joking around in his kitchen. But when the place was closed and the after-shift drinks were flowing, his laugh was one of the loudest in the place. Seungmin was a close second though, more well known simply as Min. He had the most experience of all of them. He loomed over everyone back there, offering critiques when it was warranted while often keeping to himself and taking orders from Minho. He kept his hair short so it wouldn’t hang in his face while he was working. His eyes were my favorite; they got big when he was talking about something he loved (food, baseball). He loved to open up after a few (light) drinks in him after hours, making jokes at the others expense but never taking it too far. He never seemed to run out of material though, so I had to give him credit for his wit.

Changbin was the shorter one, which made him the perfect choice for security and hosting. It was odd how his rounder face and short dark hair accentuated his raging muscles without taking away from the kindness in his face when he wanted to show off his dimple. His uniform of all black was also a huge help. He was never without his favorite platform shoes though, adding another few inches just to give him the small confidence boost he needed to truly complete the intimidation feel he desired. But after the final customer had gone, he was always the first to clock out and head to the bar to grab his one drink for the night then make sure everyone else got home safely. He loved doing that, loved that he could care about others that way. He had created the environment here from scratch, letting everyone get into their patterns and learn each other's ways while we navigated how to work around each other. If anyone had any problems with another employee, they went to him and they talked about it. Changbin always made sure to see both sides while not putting himself in the middle. He was the perfect mediator.

Hyunjin was the lead server, in charge of everyone in the front of house. He was tall and lean, his muscle tone inviting long stares from both men and women alike. And when he noticed those stares, boy did he know how to work you. His ease through life was something to be revered, to be chased after for yourself. The way he seamlessly moved from one subject to another made him a flawless conversationalist, suave and sophisticated. It made people wonder what he was doing in a place like this. People had tried to steal him away, but he was loyal to Minho, his best friend since they were young school boys. He once admitted to me that he actually liked this job, never feeling like he was called to do anything else. He was rarely seen wearing the same thing twice, taking his appearance and his job very seriously as the representative of the place. Not to say he was strict with the people under him, he just liked to appear as no-nonsense. But he very much enjoyed the nonsense, especially when Felix was involved.

Felix was our pastry chef who owned a bakery a couple doors down. He would bring stuff in for us to sell and help out when he could. He wasn’t much for cooking but his baked goods were unbeatable. He came in about three times a week, alternating between dropping stuff off, indulging in his free meals and drinks which he insisted on paying for, or just enjoying the company we provided. His blonde mane was a point of fixation from the other guys, always commenting on how they were jealous and wanting to touch it, play with it. And he would let them because that was just the kind of guy he was. Felix would do anything to make the ones around him happy. He had grown close with the team, joking around and laughing with them in the kitchen. He would get a call from Hyunjin later into the night when he had already closed up shop for the night and be begged to come and help on anything. He picked up skills quickly, running food for us or helping me or Han behind the bar or even picking up a few tables here and there too. He never said no, always said he was happy to do it. His deep register was the first thing everyone noticed, his deep rumble of laughter forcing everyone to pause in wonder and seek out that call of Hades. It worked to his advantage whenever he would ask one of us to help him out with anything he ever needed. I knew if I couldn't say no to that voice and I knew for a fact no one else here could either. His juxtaposition to his bright demeanor was striking to anyone meeting him for the first time. He always had a smile on his face, no matter what. He picked up the spirits of everyone around him. That’s just who he was.

Han was similar to Felix, though not quite as pure goodness. If Felix was love and light, Han was love and chaos. He was the perfect combination for a co-lead bartender. His creativity was useful when trying to plan new drinks for special occasions, holidays, and just messing around at the end of the night. He was the creativity behind our little duo, I was more in charge of execution. The ‘but Han, how are you going to make the glass start smoking after the customer drinks it?’ or ‘ no, Han, we cannot incorporate weed for the April special’ and lots of ‘that’s a fire hazard, Han.’ were all things I said to him at least once a week. The boy loved to set things on fire so Minho put him up front with the liquids, where he could do minimal damage unless someone handed him a lighter. There may or may not have been a small sign that said ‘Do not give Han a lighter’ on the shelves for everyone to see. But he always meant well. His big brown eyes were such a warm invitation that you couldn’t help but smile when he introduced himself, never wanting to return anything but his warm energy when he was near. He was good like that, able to turn on the charm and the looks whenever he wanted to. He had a kind face which made him a good bartender, made him good with people. When he wore his glasses, he had all the ladies swooning. And he ingested information like it was food. He could get invested in any topic under the sun. Anything I threw at him during his training, he would be able to repeat back to me within about ten seconds, enough time for his brain to process said information and learn it. He explained this once to me back in ye olden days when he first started.

“When I’m passionate about something, I learn all I can and retain it. It’s a superpower I’ve always had but only when I really want to know something.” I didn’t question him again. Everytime he would come in with random facts about some mountain range somewhere far off or some type of goldfish he was learning about, he didn’t stop until he found his new fixation. I knew more about Ranchu goldfish than I ever cared to know. Ever.

Jeongin, more affectionately known as Innie, was the other server along with Hyunjin. He flitted through styles like they were nothing. That was actually how he got hired. Hyunjin had commented on his jacket and that was all they talked about the entire interview. I know because I was listening to them while they sat at my bar, voices occasionally rising to the point of harsh glares from myself and Han while we tried to help other patrons. He loved showing off his knowledge of the menu to newer customers, eager to help when they were having trouble. Minho had quizzed him a little to help him learn the details, which Jeongin seemed to appreciate. He took to the job quickly, becoming a favorite amongst some of the regulars, his easy charm contagious. It seemed to be a recurring theme among the front of house staff. Hyunjin had put together his team well.

Saturdays were just about the only day we were all here, minus Felix. The weekend was busy for him down at the bakery so he stayed there for the night, sometimes staying open late to come hang out with us later. Saturdays were always busy, classic date nights for the surrounding area. We were located near a hotel as well so the weekenders often came in either for a drink, for a quick meal or just to get out of their hotel room for a minute or two. The clientele ranged from businessmen there for a meeting with a relaxed environment, families, and couples coming in for a night out or simply away from home. Of course you’d get the occasional outlier: a diplomat wanting to just sit down, high-ranking officials grabbing a quick bite, or rarely, if you listen really closely, you can hear an occasional fight in the back of house. Like tonight.

Minho ran a tight ship back there, vetting almost everyone who dared apply. However, he cared less about who was washing the dishes, which opened the door for some pretty weird people to apply and get the job. He really just needed them to rinse and repeat so it made sense when the current dishwasher up and quit during the middle of a Saturday night dinner rush. I was mid-shake, tickets starting to create a small pile by the printer, when I heard the yelling over the music in the dining room.

“Well what the fuck do you want from me then?!” I stopped, searching the packed out dining room for Hyunjin and readying for damage control. I spotted his dark hair a few hundred feet across the room as he was doing the same, our eyes meeting and readying for the worst. Minho was mostly cool and calm but had quite a temper when provoked, as all cooks did who took pride in their work. But it wasn’t his voice that we could hear. And it wasn’t he who came storming into said dining room with his apron in his hands.

“Fuck this place!” Our former dishwasher threw his apron in my direction, hitting me in the face before I could throw my hands or move to avoid it. Luckily for me, the mysterious stains on it did nothing to my uniform of dark jeans and black button down. Winding through the tables, he flew the doors open and disappeared into the night. Hyunjin was still looking at me, his face now red with rage, both at the scene he had just caused and what had just occurred out of his reach. He started to follow after him but I shook my head at him, having too much to do to entertain the idea of being offended. He wasn’t worth it. Hyunjin seemed to agree, albeit reluctantly, as he continued back to the kitchen to assess the damage. I continued my work, Han coming to my side to ask what he could do to help.

“Hyunjin is going back there probably to take over at the sink. What I need from you is to help Innie on the floor. I can take care of everything back here.” I said as yet another ticket printed someone’s order.

“Are you sure? I can help you get tickets down then go.” He looked concerned. Little did he know this was what it was like before he came. I flashed a smile to ease the worry in his eyes.

“Oh please. I could do this in my sleep. I’ll make you something especially good tonight for hangback if you go now.” I continued smiling to cover the sternness in my voice, slipping into problem-solving mode. “And send Changbin up here when he has a second.” I called after him as he pulled his notepad and pen from his pocket to begin serving Hyunjin’s tables, giving me a thumbs up behind his back.

A flash of lemons, limes, and cherries later, a huffing Changbin appeared at the corner of my bar.

“I could kill that guy, leaving us high and dry in the middle of a rush. Did he throw his apron at you?” Everyone looks so concerned these days…

“In his defense, I don’t think it was intentional. I think he just meant to throw it behind the bar and I just happened to be in the way.”

“Yeah, that sounds like you. Giving people the benefit of the doubt.” That seemed to ease his concern a tad.

“Yeah, yeah.” I rolled my eyes at him and smiled, rinsing my cups to make room for new ones. “Could you help bus tables and run food if you have time? Just keep the front phone in your pocket and answer if it rings. I’m putting us on a temporary hold. We’ll check in with the back in about twenty minutes to see how they are.” He nodded, ever the loyal soldier. He even saluted me and ran back to the host stand to grab said phone and do exactly as I had asked, the kitchen doors swinging as he entered.

I spotted Jeongin at the end of my counter standing at our computer for putting in orders. Once I had a moment, I stepped over to him, spotting the slight tremor in his hand as he pressed button after button, glancing from his notepad back to the screen and back down again.

“Innie.” I singsonged to him, trying to perk him up as best I could. He smiled but still didn’t look up at me. “Are you doing okay? Do you need any help? I sent Han on the floor to help you with tables so you wouldn’t feel as swamped. Changbin is helping to run food as well so don’t worry about that. Just worry about keeping people happy, okay? Which shouldn't be hard to do since you’re just so darn cute.” I leaned on the counter to stare up at him, hoping to catch his eye so I could be sure the gleam returned. I got him grinning and blushing which was confirmation enough.

“I’m okay for now, thank you. I’m about to put in for some chilled shots, okay? This table is hell-bent on celebrating something and I couldn’t for the life of me tell you what it was.” I laughed along with him as he gathered his stuff to walk away again. I called out to him.

“I’m here if you need help!”

“I know!” He flashed me another grin as he held the kitchen door open for Hyunjin, who was carrying about eight plates in his arms, then disappeared behind the swinging door.

“How come you never offer to help me, huh?” Hyunjin had shouted as he was walking past me to deliver the food.

“Because you’re magical. You need no help.” He half-heartedly glared at me, smirking at the same time.

“You’ve got tickets again.” Shit. That damn printer…

***

“Han, I swear if you break a bottle, it’s coming out of your paycheck!” Minho was pointedly staring at Han as he tried some new trick he had learned on Youtube the night before. It involved throwing a bottle and that was when I stopped listening to shut it down. Han, ever the rebel, chose to do it anyway. But now he was doing it in front of Minho, who now that the doors were closed, was the young boy he could be without his mask of professionalism. Surrounded by friends instead of coworkers now, he could relax and enjoy the shenanigans from the safety of the bar.

I heard this being shouted from the kitchen, where Hyunjin, Changbin, and I were gathering our food for the night.. I grabbed a to-go tray full of chips and salsa for the table so as not to create more dishes for Hyunjin who had been stuck there all night long. Hyunjin grabbed some cheese from the walk-in fridge like a mouse, and Changbin was chomping down on a steak that was cooked too long for the customer’s request, so it was put aside for him. We gathered what we needed and returned to the bar where everyone was waiting for us, seated in booths and bar stools. Han had decided against his internet trick, settling for being the bartender for the night.

“Okay! What is everyone having?” He asked the room, steadfast in his decision. As orders were placed, I put the chips down in front of Jeongin and sat between him and Hyunjin, Seungmin on his other side and Minho next to Jeongin. Changbin moved from his booth to the bar when his food was finished. He hated being left out.

“I will have whatever that crazy brain can think of that will get me good and drunk so I can forget this stupid night ever happened. I’m off tomorrow, right Minho?” Hyunjin looked expectantly at him. Minho shrugged nonchalantly.

“Whatever. Hey, where’s my scotch?!” He directed that at Han, who got to it immediately, cracking jokes about impatience while he poured the brown liquid into a paper cup. “What, no glass?” Minho jutted out his lip in a pout.

“Do you want to clean it?” Hyunjin retorted, the amusement gone from his face. His fingers were pruned from the constant submersion in water; Seungmin hid the rubber gloves from him. Minho nodded in understanding and took a sip from his cup. Han started pouring different liquids into one cup with a dash of juice at the top and handed it to Hyunjin. He took a sip and coughed. Hard. “Damn, dude. I would have asked for a Long Island if I wanted one.”

“You asked for something that would get you good and drunk so there you go. You don’t like it, give it back. Who’s next?” Without any of us seeing or hearing him, Felix emerged from the kitchen doors.

“I’ll take something fruity please!” His signature smile was plastered on his face as we all greeted him. Jeongin started telling him about what had happened with our former coworker when Han dropped off something pink for the both of them.

“And he just walked out in the middle of it! All of my tables were so confused, they had no idea he worked here. I tried to just laugh it off but my heart stopped for a second.”

“Good riddance, I say. I never liked him anyways.” Minho took another sip.

“Then why did you hire him?” My question was amplified when the others asked the same thing. Han dropped off Changbin’s chilled vodka and Seungmin’s beer.

“We needed a dishwasher.” Minho replied simply. “I’ve got someone in mind to replace him, don’t worry Hyunjin. He’ll be in by the time you come in on Monday.” Hyunin nodded his approval and took as big of a swig as he could muster from his Long Island.

“And what are you having, gorgeous?” Han appeared in front of me, batting his eyelashes. I flicked him on his forehead lightly just because I could. He barely moved and his smile only grew, used to my loving taps.

“I’ll take something with that new blueberry vodka we just got. I think it would be good with-” I was cut off as Han ran over to the shelf where it was.

“I got it! I’ve been thinking about what to do with it all night. See how you like this. I think it’s perfect.” Watching Han work was something to behold. The look of concentration was so intense, you didn’t want to break it. Seeing him focus on one task at a time happened so rarely, it was a wonder he ever got anything done at all.

“Now you owe me a drink if my memory serves me. I’ll take something light please, I’d actually like to be able to drive home tonight.” He rounded the edge of the bar to take my seat as we switched places. I turned my back to the group now excitedly chattering about sports and whatnot to stare at the bottles I got to choose from. After thinking, my lips pursed, I chose something that didn’t take much alcohol, granting him his request. As I switched our drinks to grab mine, I strolled through the back of the bar, my second home, to eavesdrop on all the conversations going on. Smiling to myself, proud of the job by the team in front of me, this family I had made.

***

“Does someone want to tell me why I'm here on my day off?” Hyunjin, decked in casual clothes and sunglasses to ‘hide his eyes from the terror of the sun’ and a drink in front of him. Seungmin was beside him in similar attire having just arrived himself. After the last customer had left the lunch rush, Minho shut the doors behind them and locked them, turning the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ and leaving the seven of us from the night before sitting once again at the bar in anticipation. Minho called staff meetings only when needed and it seemed whatever situation he deemed necessary, it was rarely good.

“Take off those glasses and I’ll tell you.” Minho replied as he approached us once more, joining me behind the bar to face everyone head on with a signature smirk. Hyunjin scoffed as he refused, grumbling to Seungmin beside him. “Okay losers. I found a new dishwasher. It’s a guy I’ve known for a while so he shouldn’t be any trouble. He’s fallen on some hard times so I thought it might be good for him to come work with us. Everyone is going to be on their best behavior, right?”

“Why, are we meeting him now?” I asked simply, not sure what this big meeting was for.

“Yes actually. He’s staying at the hotel next door ad he’s waiting out back for me to bring him in. I called you all here to meet him and to make sure everyone was on the same page. Yeah?” Minoh widened his eyes just enough to stare everyone directly in the eye to see their resolution for peace and calm before he was satisfied and exited through the kitchen doors to fetch whoever this guy was, wiping his hands on his apron along the way. The rest of us looked around at each other, slightly scared of what he could possibly be bringing in.

“This couldn’t be said in a text?” Hyunin said under his breath.

“No proof, no trail.” Seungmin replied. We all nodded.

Minho returned in a matter of seconds, the mystery guest in tow. He wasn’t entirely short but he wasn’t exactly tall either, his dark hair curly and short and poking out of his black cap. It hung just short of his eyes, dusting his brows with every movement. His eyes were a dark brown, but they were not what I was paying attention to. No, his body was what drew my attention first. His shirt had the sleeves cut off so his muscular arms and peeks of his torso were on full display, cut so low that his chest was almost fully visible to anyone who wanted to take a peek. Which I might have done already when he turned to the side to shake hands with everyone. He greeted everyone with a small smile, chatting for a second with everyone before turning to the next. He introduced himself as Chris. Minho would occasionally call him Chan, making the joke that they were different people. His permanent, shy smile had dropped when he made eye contact with me, drinking in my features like he had all day to do so. He shook his head, trying to get an imaginary fly off of his face and nodded at me. That nod echoed through me as I took him, all of him, in. It was like a bell had gone off in my own mind. For trouble or danger or something else entirely, I didn’t know. But it was all I could hear until Minho’s voice carried through the piercing in my head as I found his eyes again.

“She’s been with me the longest so she’s almost like second in charge without having the title of it. She’s the best around, you won’t find any better than her.” Minho’s proud smile should have comforted me but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had been slighted by him somehow. Changbin interrupted this introduction to ask Minho about a reservation for tonight so his back was turned to us.

“The best he’s got?” He said with the slightest trace of mocking, his eyebrow raised in questioning.

“Of course. I’ve been in this industry long enough to know my way around just about everything.”

“Someone sounds cocky.” Well that’s rude.

“I know what I’m worth.” At least I sounded cooler than I felt. I crossed my arms in front of me as I hardened my features at him, daring him to challenge me. He shrugged his shoulders, brushing me off and turning back to Minho.

“Come on, I’ll show you around.” Minho guided Chris away and led him to the kitchen, Seungmin following close behind to show him everything Minho would deem unimportant. I followed them with my eyes until I could be sure they were out of earshot.

“Can you believe that? The nerve of that guy.” Everything in me felt like yelling at whoever was closest, Hyunjin being the closest target. His face was blank.

“What happened? I wasn’t paying attention.” I sighed, resigned to just let it go until it reared its ugly head again.

“Nothing. Nevermind.”

“Well, since that was it, I’m going to resume my day off activities. I’ll see you troublemakers tomorrow.” Hyunjin rose from his barstool and slid his glasses back over his eyes. He turned his head to face me as he leaned on the bar, leaning his head in closer to me as if to tell me a secret. “I saw that look you gave him. Play nice. I don’t think I can handle more new people coming in and ruining my rhythm.” He feigned brushing his hair off his shoulders. I scoffed at him.

“What rhythm is that?” He trailed away to the door.

“The rhythm of me tolerating those who are already here!” He called from the front doors, halfway open from his outstretched arm. With his other, he pointed a finger at poor Han who was oblivious, gave me an annoyed look, and disappeared through the glass doors.

What look? I wondered to myself. I didn’t give him any specific look… Did I? I shook my head at the thought and continued my prep work for Han’s shift, my mind flitting between thoughts of the new guy and what his problem was between slices of limes and lemons, listening to the chatter behind me grow as the restaurant doors opened for the dinner rush to flood in.

I was gathering the normal clutter for a new table. Napkins piled on top of the extra plates and the only thing left to grab was silverware. But the rack was empty. The only thing to do would be to ask the dishwasher to immediately do a load for some clean ones. This would be my own test to see if Chris could be a professional during service hours. My approach was always to be nice until they hit strike three. He was only at strike one so niceties it was. I pushed the swinging door to find Minho with his back to me, reading a ticket to himself. I marched over to the sink where my target awaited, one headphone in his ear. I tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey Chris, we need more silverware up front. We’re all out.” I said plainly. I waited, watching the back of his head for him to turn to acknowledge me. He didn’t. I tapped him harder. “Hey Chris!” He finally turned, confusion evident.

“What, why are you trying to scare someone who’s working with heavy machinery?”

“I tapped you already and you said nothing. And an industrial dishwasher is hardly heavy machinery. We’re out of silverware up front.” I said just as dry as I had before. I turned to walk away, satisfied with myself. I saw out of the corner of my eye that he hadn’t moved so I stopped to turn back and see that he was still staring at me. “What?” I snipped.

“I didn’t hear a question. Or a certain magic word.” His eyes widened in fake innocence, showcasing for anyone on the outside to see this as playful banter. I knew better, but I had to let him win. He had something I needed and I was ever the chess player in knowing that sacrifices for the short were better for the long run. I took a deep breath and put on my best fake smile.

“Chris, do you mind terribly washing some silverware and bringing it out to us so we can serve our customers and make some damn money? Please.” I batted my eyelashes at him, signaling that this was not over. Not by a long shot.

“Of course I can.” He responded with an equally fake smile. “I’ll bring it out as soon as it’s ready.” He turned back to his sink, grabbing the next bucket of dishes and pulling out the silverware to separate it. I was surprised I wasn’t literally seeing red, my hands were shaking beside me, clenched into fists. I wiped my sweaty palms on my work jeans, desperate for some control over my own body again. Who the fuck was he to question me? Twice in one day too? I think not. I didn’t know how but I would get my revenge one way or another. One day…

But the question was really very simple. Why did I let someone who did not know me get to me so quickly? It had been less than a day and he had already worked his way under my skin, churning the fire I didn’t know was inside. I stopped in the hallway leading to the dining room, taking solace in the darkness and muted noises. I let these thoughts come and go, trying to let them wash over me. If this was how he was, he wouldn’t last very long. Someone would see through him, right? I shook my head and took several breaths, willing my heartbeat to steady out before I went back to my tables.

A slower dinner service than usual allowed Han to work his usual charms on the few lucky ones to sit at his bar. His nights to take full control were almost every other night starting on Sundays, leaving me to either have the days off or work the floor if I needed the money. It was fun to watch him in his element, the easy conversation flowing so naturally with perfect strangers it made anyone wonder if they actually knew each other. I was by the POS station at the edge, counting my tickets to ensure I had them all as the night was dying down. The remaining tables belonged to Jeongin so I was free to sit at the bar until everyone had gone.

I hadn’t seen much of Chris tonight other than the one instance, every other trip I made to the kitchen he seemed to be too occupied with a conversation with Minho or involved in his work to pay much attention to anything else. I was still deciding if I wanted to address his weird behavior or drop it entirely. Until…

I had remembered that I had bought something special for myself and Han after a particularly hard shift weeks prior and it had arrived that morning. I hopped off my stool to grab it from my bag in the office, passing by Chris on his phone in the hallway. His brows were drawn together in concentration and his typing only got more furious after I passed by. I noted it for later dissection.

I returned to Han at the bar with the item behind my back. After he finished, he saw me trying to keep any indication that I was holding a surprise off of my face as best I could. His eyes squinted as he drew nearer, caution written all over his features.

“Whatcha got there, sparky?” He finally spoke as he folded his arms over the counter, leaning his full weight on them as a smile crept over. I whipped out what was behind my back, a rhinestone covered shaker I had found. Han’s eyes got wide with excitement.

“You don’t have to use it obviously if it’s too ‘girly’ for you,” I used my fingers for the air quotes. “But if you want to use it, I’m going to wash it and put it back there. Just remember to hand wash it, don’t send it back to dish. I worry about the stones chipping off or something.” I couldn’t help my smile as Han took it from my hands to examine it, eyes wide. That’s when I felt more than saw another presence coming up behind me.

“What is that?” I could hear the disgust Chris was trying to mask under the layers of feigned curiosity. “I could see it from the kitchen.”

“It’s our new shaker, courtesy of yours truly.” I turned to stare directly into the sun to find his eyes staring right back at me. His brows raised in surprise.

“Oh you bought it for this place? I should call you Sparkles.” He chuckled at his own joke then paused for a moment, his eyes going distant as he watched Han decide where to put our new jewel. “In fact, I think that’s your name from now on.” He said just low enough for only me to hear, giving me a smirk and shuffling off back to the kitchen before I could protest. I rolled my eyes and turned my attention back to Han, proudly displaying our new shaker to anyone who would listen.

An hour later, the floor empty and chairs on top of tables, Jeongin was mopping the stone floor as part of his closing duties. He had drawn the short straw so it was his final duty before he could clock out officially and join the rest of us who had worked that night at our usual spot at the bar. Everyone, sans Seungmin, Hyunjin, and Felix who had been dying to meet the new guy, was waiting for the blonde baker to make an appearance before fully getting into the swing of the evening. Changbin was seated at the end, Minho beside him and fully engaged in the conversation. That left myself, Han, and Chris who was sitting with an empty seat between us. Han was in his usual place behind the bar and asking those who had clocked out what they wanted to drink down at the opposite end. I was busy looking at my phone, catching up on missed notifications while Chris was letting his eyes roam around to take in his surroundings. They landed on Han a few feet away, chatting and laughing with the guys.

“He’s good at that, isn't he.” Not a question. An observation of the world he had waltzed into. More to himself than to me, but I saw my window of opportunity to be the bigger person and I took it. I watched Han do what he did best while mixing different liquids for the men in front of him.

“Yes he is. He’s got a natural knack for people. It’s what makes him good at his job.” He paused, like he wasn’t expecting me to answer, then nodded once in acknowledgement. Then he turned his dark eyes to me and waited until I looked at them to ask his next question.

“And what makes you good at yours, Sparkles? Do you also have a ‘natural knack for people’?” A gentle mix of curiosity and a slight mocking tone in his words. It took me by surprise that he was asking me anything at all.

“No, it’s my ability to judge a person’s character within seconds of meeting them. I knew who Minho was when he introduced himself in primary school.”

“Minho isn’t very hard to read.” He cocked an eyebrow at me.

“Oh I beg to differ.” I cocked one right back. “He’s a master at saying one thing and meaning another. It took me years before he moved away to try and decipher his secret language. You, however…”

He sat back expectantly, a bored expression plastered on his face, waiting for me to dazzle him as my nickname implied. As I drew my pause longer, he shook his head slowly, impatiently at me.

“Yes?

I studied him a moment longer, not quite ready to give up his attention so quickly. I wanted it for some reason, whether it was because I had earned it or some other deep seeded reason to be explored by a therapist. But I wanted his attention for as long as I could keep it. There was something captivating about it. I realized I had been silent for a second too long before I finally spoke.

“You like to tease because it gets a reaction out of people. It keeps their attention on you and you love it. Maybe you didn’t get enough attention as a child or someone took it all away from you. Either way.” I watched his face fall from blank ignorance to stone cold. Nail on the head. “Whatever your parents did, it’s time to forgive them and grow up. You don’t need attention to make people like you.” I felt my smugness flood from my brain straight to my smile as I turned back to my phone. “It’s like I know you already.”

“I promise you don’t.” The quickness of his response snapped my attention back to him. His expression hardened in moments, leaving me with no retort. “I suggest you not parade around claiming to know things you don’t know the first thing about. Hiding behind knowledge you think you have doesn’t suit you. It makes you look ignorant. I would suggest you try to get to know people before assuming things about them. Especially me.” I no longer wanted to be the subject of his attention. I felt the blush involuntarily creep up my cheeks as I tried and begged my eyes to look anywhere but at him. “Let me tell you what I know about you, hm? You’re so buried in your work that you don’t even see what’s happening around you. Take that away and what’s left? Friends? Everyone you know seems to work here. Family? I know by the way you treat your coworkers that you don’t have any. You don’t wear your emotions on your sleeve, you wear them on your face. I can read you like a book.” He had moved off of his seat in the midst of his little speech to lean closer to my face, almost spitting on me several times. He gave a half smile and turned to walk away. I found my brain and my words just in the knick of time.

“I’ve finally got my nickname for you.” I willed my voice to keep from quivering.

“Oh yeah?” He turned back to me, still not far.

“Puck.”

“Puck? Like a hockey puck?” “Like from Shakespeare. He’s a character in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

“Ah. And why is that relevant?”

“Because he’s a donkey. And you’re an ass.”

I grabbed my bag and bolted for the door, ignoring the shouts of protest and questions about where I was going. I felt someone bump into my shoulder as I ran, not bothering to turn to see Felix before shouting an apology and running to my car before anyone saw my tears.

***

“I just don’t understand, Felix. He’s known me less than a day and he already hates me? Tell me how that makes sense.” Sitting across from Felix in his own bakery was my favorite way to spend my days off. He had made such a cozy place to call his own. Cases of baked goods lined the sides with the counter facing the glass front doors. The blue walls had cute pictures of animals all over them, ranging from cats to dogs to bunnies and ferrets to baby chicks and wolf pups to piglets running around in grass fields or playing in mud. I wondered where he got them all from but I hadn’t dared ask. There were fake vines and flowers hanging from the ceiling, creating the feel of being in a pastel forest dream. White steel chairs and tables were spread across the small room and just outside the doors, people enjoying his products were seen constantly with smiles and laughter.

A yellow plate with the wrapper from his newest cupcake flavor, Cherry Lime Surprise, in front of me, Felix stopped me mid-rant.

“And what exactly did he say to you again?” I scoffed.

“Ha! Which time? When he questioned my abilities just after Minho told him I was the best he had, not only insulting me but Minho too? Or when he made me stop and say please when we needed more silverware in the middle of service when I had other shit to do? Or, my personal favorite, when he called me a friendless workaholic with no family and my head up my own ass? Which time are you referring to, Felix?” I had to scoff again, lost in my own thoughts. “It’s ridiculous. He doesn’t even know me. What makes him think he can pass such definite judgment on me?”

“He seemed to be in a sour mood after you left last night. He apologized that he wasn’t in a happier mood. Said he had a bad night and had to leave shortly after you did. The other guys say he’s fine, he jokes around with them and everything. Minho said he was a childhood friend.” “Yeah well so am I. I know he would believe me if I told him but I also know he would tell me to deal with it myself. And I don’t want to have to run to him if I ever have a problem with someone he hires.”

“You literally never have.” Felix gave his best comforting smile, making his eyes sparkle.

“Maybe not. But I don’t want to start now.”

“Why is he bothering you so much? He doesn’t know you so why does his opinion matter?” Now that was a thinker.

“Well, if I’m going to see him so often working there, I thought we could get along. Be friends even. Or at least friendly. But with the way he’s acting after only knowing me a day, I don’t see that happening.” I pushed the plate away towards him, nudging him that I wanted another. I widened my eyes to plead, but he saw right through me and grabbed the plate.

“You have to pay for this one!” He called to me. I followed him up there to do exactly that. “And don’t over tip me! You’re paying too much already.”

“Try and stop me! It’s my way of paying you for listening to me rant about nothing.” I responded as he retrieved my delicious dessert from its case and placed it on my plate to hand to me. I turned the device back to him and grabbed my plate to run away back to my table before he could yell at me. He looked incredulously at the device then back up to me, his mouth agape. I shrugged with my most mischievous smile. “If you tell me it’s too much, I’m just going to double it next time.” I watched his shoulders move up and down dramatically as he threw his head back to look at the ceiling. He stared for a second before coming around the counter to sit in his white chair.

“Anyways. As I was saying.” He narrowed his eyes at me, waiting for me to take a bite before continuing. “If you have to work with him, you only have a few options. The first would be to try and make peace. Remind him you have to work together and see if you can compromise enough to be civil and only talk to him when you need to.” My top lip curled in disgust as I swallowed.

“Or?” I popped the last bit of bliss into my mouth, intent on savoring it while I could.

“Or you could avoid him at all costs. Don’t speak to him. Just ignore him if he tries to talk to you about anything other than work. But I highly advise against this. You do work together now and running away from your problems never works. You know that.”

“Unfortunately, I do. But if I’m going to avoid him effectively, he needs to stay in the kitchen. I won’t bother him if he doesn’t bother me.” Felix took my empty plate from me as I rose to leave, gathering my stuff.

“If that’s how you want to play it, then I’ll be here waiting for it to all go to hell.” He gave me another one of those signature smiles. Every time he flashed me one of those, I knew that everything would be okay. That’s what made Felix such a good friend. He gave good advice but would also be there for you when you ignored it. No matter how much he teased, he never said ‘I told you so’ or judged you when something was your fault. He never threw it in your face when you were wrong, he just patiently waited for you to realize it. He was a good friend, better than I deserved. His sultry voice broke me of my thoughts. “If you want to start your avoiding tactic, now is a great time. He’s across the street on his way over.” I whipped my head around to see Chris dressed in all black with a backpack on his shoulder and indeed headed this way. “He asked if he could come see the place so I told him to come by.”

“Shit.” It was the fastest I had gathered the rest of my things, cursing myself for spreading out so elaborately.

“Use the back door.” Felix, you angel. I told him so as I rushed onto the street outside.

***

“Doesn’t it liven up the place? I think it does.” I stepped back to admire my handiwork. I had lined the shelves of liquor with tiny christmas lights, equipped with a remote to change the colors to anything possible. Changbin was watching me struggle with the different sticky strips to hang them, not offering any helpful suggestions whatsoever but admiring the job once I was done.

“I like it! Can you turn them purple? What about blue?”

“I can do better than that. Watch this.” I pressed the multicolored button on the remote and the lights turned from red to orange to yellow all the way down the rainbow and back again, on a constant loop. I proudly watched Changbin’s face gleam with pride as he watched my lights flicker.

“Yah! I’m so proud of you. You did it all by yourself.” He beamed at me, marveling at them as he walked backwards to the kitchen to discuss tonight’s dinner service with Seungmin. After watching the lights for a little while longer, I pulled out my cutting board and fruits to cut for myself.

I was ready to put my plan into action when Chris walked up to see the commotion.

“I guess Sparkles was the right name for you after all.” He flashed me a quick half-smile. A blink and I would have missed it. “It looks good. Brightens it up.” And then he was gone as quickly as he had come.

What the fuck was that?!

This back and forth was making my head spin. Before I could think too much about it other than my initial reaction, Minho came in through the locked front doors. Which was odd because Tuesdays were his day off, his jeans hanging loosely around his hips and his white tshirt showing off his toned muscles.. His eyes searched around the room for something and landed on me. He nodded, signaling that he was headed for me.

“Why are you here? Don’t you have some expensive wine tasting to attend or something to improve your restaurant?” I gave a sickeningly sweet smile, flashy all of my teeth for him.

“Haha, very funny.” He narrowed his eyes and grimaced. “Where’s Chris?”

“Probably in the back.” I waved my hand in the direction I implied.

“Good. Don’t move. I want to talk to you both.” Uh Oh…

I quite literally couldn’t move, my brain jumping from thought to thought and never quite landing on a reason why he would want to talk to the both of us. Had Felix told him everything? No, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t betray my trust like that. Minho came back with Chris, an apron tied around his waist and wiping his hands off with a towel before slinging it over his shoulder.

“What’s up, Minho?” I couldn’t help my suspicious tone.

“I want you to train Chris behind the bar starting Monday next week.” He bore into my eyes, daring me to protest. I knew better. Chris had moved his attention to me, a smug smile spreading across his features.

“Why?” Questioning was okay.

“We were talking a few nights ago about how he wanted to learn mixology and there’s no one better to learn from. Chris, before you start to protest, keep in mind that she’s the best in the business when it comes to training. She taught Han everything he knows. If you want to learn, you learn from her.” He turned to me, wiping the smug look off my face when I heard his tone from the first word.

“And you. You can teach anyone, I know you can. You can whip anyone into shape, I've seen it. Give him a chance and you might just see the potential that I see. If he wants to learn, why shouldn’t you be the one to teach him?” He leaned back pushing off the counter, smiling to himself. Like he was proud of making us work together. Like he hadn’t just given me the biggest test of my patience I had no intention of acing a minute ago.

“Oh by the way,” he turned, clearly headed for the back door to the parking lot. “Both of your jobs depend on it. So play nice.” I could swear I just saw devil horns poking through his hair just then as he smirked and twirled on his heel. He sauntered away and whistled some unknown tune, seemingly unaware of the bomb he had just dropped in front of me, its faint ticking in time with his retreating footsteps.

“Can I call you Professor Sparkles?” He had leaned in closer so I could hear his whisper. The urge to slap the smugness off of his face was heavy. My hand may have twitched. On its own, of course. The smile he was sporting was dangerous. Time to throw caution to the wind. I leaned in as well, not wanting anyone else to hear what I was saying.

“Alright Puck. You wanna play?” I leaned in an inch closer, my lips tugging at the corners. “Then let’s play.”

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redhoodinternaldialectical · 28 days

Note

Was wondering who's your favourite Jason Todd writer. (Maybe least favourite too)

Oooh this is a tough one! In part because I'm not entirely sure who to count as a Jason Todd writer, and in another part because I'm trying to pick someone other than Winick bc saying it's him feels too obvious lmao

The joke answer is Bruce Jones, because I genuinely adore Nightwing: Brothers In Blood, though I uhhh- look I GET why other people do not xD

But really maybe I should just bite the bullet and say it's Judd Winick. I do love what he did with the character and I can say with confidence that I'm not just listing him cause of Under the Red Hood. Seeing Red in Green Arrow (2001) is like my favorite comic run ever. Jason's appearance in Outsiders (2003) is great. Streets Run Red in B&R was solid. Lost Days remains my favorite interpretation of the time after he came back, despite the fact that I have some criticisms.

That being said, I do think I mildly prefer him in an anti-hero role rather than Winick's sympathetic villain who can sometimes be reasoned with, and I quite like what Rosenburg has been doing with him.

It feels like Rosenburg has a really solid idea in his head of who Jason is and why/how he clashes with the other bats. I enjoyed The Man Who Stopped Laughing way more than I thought I would. Taskforce Z has definite merits. Gotham War was a complete clusterfuck and horribly organized, but I do think I see what he was going for there and was interested even though it clashed badly with what the other writers were doing.

So yeah, I guess that's my answer. Rosenburg is my fav modern Jason writer so far and Winick remains the heavyweight champion of Jason writing overall.

My least favorite on the other hand isn't any of the usual suspects (Starlin, Morrison, and Lobdell)

Starlin seemed to want to write vicious, seedy thrillers about realistic serial killers and the worst that humanity has to offer and was instead stuck writing Batman and Robin lmao. Should he have just found other employment instead, or knuckled down and written to the tone of the material at hand? Probably! However, putting Batman and Robin in a world that was patently unfit for their type of heroics was interesting to read for me, and frankly, most of what I love about Jason wouldn't exist without it.

Morrison was certainly unfavorable to Jason, but using Jason and Dick as opposing ideas of what it means to be Batman is honestly really cool, and idk I think if you can get passed the aesthetics this version of him works.

Lobdell... might actually just be bad at writing entirely? But! Lobdell has a lot of good ideas and can write something that's fun. There are several more competently put together stories that I can't say the same of.

So yeah, it's none of them, because Cavan Scott was the one who wrote the worst rendition of Jason I've ever had the misfortune to read.

Even mother fucking Battle for the Cowl did a better job with Jason! Just by giving him character motivations and a reason to be in the plot! Titans United Jason is a complete asshole to everyone around him despite having reasons not to be. Like, not even for no reason! For negative three reasons!! There are many different roles he could have taken in this comic that would have been interesting, but instead he is "thug who insults Connor Kent and is generally useless and incompetent".

Though to be fair to him, Titans United was a tie in for a TV show that has very, very different histories for all of the characters involved. It was basically a commercial and as far as I can tell this author wasn't involved in the show or any of the characters outside of this one comic. It might honestly be unfair to call him a Jason Todd writer at all.

And if we don't count little one offs like that then... yeah I don't really know who my least favorite would be *shrug*

Anyhow I feel like I've rambled more than long enough, hope this was an interesting read and thank you thank you for sending the ask :3 !

#jason todd #damian's tomfoolery

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prince-rowan-of-the-forest · 3 months

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To Make a Heaven of Hell (8/?)

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Virgil is tasked to go collect more coffee than he can carry alone, thankfully someone comes to save him.

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Chapter warnings: None (please lmk if I'm missing something)

Notes: *rubbing my hands together like an evil genius* guess who's hereeeeeeeeeeee-

Anyway uh- sorry this took like three months? I genuinely don't know what happened - I was very busy over Christmas and then uni deadlines caught up on me - and I've been working on so many things that I'm just screaming into the void at this point. I'm glad I could finish this chapter, though!!! I love this fic so much!

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Whatever scheme Janus and the others had gotten up to had been almost pushed out of his mind by the time it actually came to involve him.

Almost, because he hadn’t quite been able to stop thinking about the ‘yet’ surrounding his own involvement in the plan whenever he’d had a free second. But they’d spent enough time talking back to assholes at the Hellp desk - and at a good few hours of therapy sessions with Emile that had been mostly productive - to mostly put it out of their mind. For the most part.

Once a week had passed since Janus and Angel had headed into Hell giggling about who knows what, Virgil started wondering if he really would be involved in this plan at all.

—-

Barely even the day after Virgil had thought that, he was introduced to the most beautiful person he’d ever seen.

Well, introduced is a strong word.

He noticed the guy across the lobby - stood in the entrance to the tunnel that leads down to the residential levels of Hell. Remus was with him, it looked like he was trying to coax the pretty stranger to come further into the lobby, but when Virgil met his eyes - deep pools of molten gold that almost seemed to glow and make Virgil feel like his bones were melting but somehow in a good way? - the stranger ran. Well - good to know he was apparently scary to the pretty demon. What a great confidence boost. Virgil sighed - just as Remus seemed to across the hall - and Lily gently patted his shoulder in consolidation.

“He’s shy,” She said by way of explanation, Virgil just sighed again.

—-

“Oh Virgil!” Angel practically sang from the other end of the desk a few days later, “Can you do the coffee run alone today? Ruggy’s having a bit of a crisis over here-”

Ruggy rolled her eyes - Virgil wasn’t sure she was actually having a crisis, but it wasn’t their place to judge.

“Sure, uh - can everyone write down their orders? I probably won't remember them alone.” Virgil said, standing up, Angel giggled and handed him a piece of paper that already had all the orders written down on it in multiple different handwritings, he frowned, okay - so they had planned this. What was going on?

“You’re all grown up now,” Lily chuckled, probably misinterpreting his frown, “You’ve got this!”

“...Grown up?” Virgil looked at her confused, as far as he was aware, he hadn’t changed since he got here.

“Wait, did you not know?” Angel gasped, standing up again.

“Virgie you’re like two inches taller than you were before,” Sharkie pointed out, glaring at him - for growing? Which he’d apparently done at some point without his own notice - but didn’t Lily say…

“You’re settling in, kid!” Bel told him, ruffling his hair with a heavy hand that made Vrgil laugh and shove him away…. Maybe those therapy sessions were helping more than they thought? “Now go get that coffee!”

—-

The coffee shop wasn’t busy when Virgil went in, which they thanked the universe for as they nervously handed over the list of eleven wildly different coffee orders, not even realising there was an extra one - and then asked for his own too. He thought belatedly that he wasn’t sure how he would carry them all back to the desk.

He stared blankly at the three cup holders full of various drinks and two paper bags of snacks that the barista put on the counter. He once again thanks the universe that the coffee shop is fairly empty as the barista looks at him sympathetically.

“Could no-one else on the desk come down today?” She asked, “If I wasn’t halfway through my shift I’d offer to help you take them down myself…”

“That’s okay,” Virgil waved her off, moving everything to the side so that if someone else wanted to order, they could, before sighing and putting a hand on his hip, trying to figure this out.

“Hey cutie, need some help there?” Someone asked from behind him with a voice smooth as butter in a tone that had Virgil blushing - even more so at the nickname. He turned and found himself face to face - more like face to chest, whatever did this guy get from being so tall? With the extremely pretty demon who he’d seen across the lobby in Hell just a few days earlier.

“Ha-h-hi?” Virgil stammered, feeling his train of thought screech to a halt as he looked up at the demon’s face. His sparkling golden eyes seemed to look straight through Virgil’s pale foundation to his hot blushing face - almost as red as the demon’s skin. From this close he could see bright golden freckles littering his skin like tiny stars, and Virgil could see a lot of his skin too - he wore just as little clothing as Remus did. His heart-tipped tail thrashed behind him - in a way Virgil thought seemed almost nervous, but that couldn’t be right. Smiling, the stranger picked up two of the three cup holders after putting one of the bags of pastries and cakes into the satchel he carried around his waist, an action which totally didn’t draw his eyes to somewhere where they were not supposed to be drawn - he thought he might combust with how much he was blushing as he forced himself to meet the stranger’s eyes again.

“I see I’ve rendered you speechless,” he said, grinning to show pointed fangs - unlike Remus’ full mouth of shark-like sharp teeth, but still dangerous looking in a way that didn’t scare him, “My apologies, but I simply couldn’t leave a cutie like you to struggle after I saw you in distress.”

“I- wha- you-” Virgil stumbled to start too many sentences at once, not sure what he was even trying to say. The demon chuckled, putting his hand on his hip.

“Like what you see, sweetie?” He asked, tilting his head just a little. Virgil choked and covered his face, equal parts embarrassed and flustered by the callout.

“‘M sorry,” Virgil mumbled, trying to get his words back as his face attempted to cool down a little - but a look up to see the demon was still smiling at him just brought it back tenfold.

“What are you sorry for?” There was a hint of genuine confusion in the demon’s voice despite his smile, he tilted his head.

“I was- I was staring? That’s- rude?” Virgil said, now also confused - wasn’t he offended by Virgil blatantly looking at him?

“I’m an incubus, darling, I’m used to it,” he reassured, ruffling Virgil’s hair - someone needs to explain why that feels nice because it did even though Virgil ducked and tried to bat his hand away with a squawk of surprise that made the demon laugh, “As long as you aren’t scared of me - and hey, I was flirting with you, I dug my own grave just a little, what’s your name cutie? My brother just calls you ‘emo’.”

“Wait- you’re Remus’ brother?” Virgil perked up to ask, before immediately getting flustered again as a grin split across his face.

“That’s me,” he grinned, putting down the cup holders and offering his hand for a handshake - his claw-like nails were red but tipped with gold like he’d dipped them in glittering paint, “My name’s Roman.”

“I- ah - I’m uh- Virgil…” Virgil mumbled awkwardly, tentatively taking Roman’s hand to shake only to have their hand grasped tightly and shaken with enthusiasm. Roman’s hand was so warm.

“Virgil? What a lovely name you have,” Roman said, bringing Virgil’s hand - which he was still holding - up to his lips to kiss, making Virgil blush a brilliant crimson, “You look like a sunrise, darling.”

Virgil could only cough and bow their head as Roman continued, “Pretty pink cheeks and lovely purple hair, hm, oh and your eyes are such a lovely blue, like the early morning sky, how perfect.”

“Oh- shut up,” Virgil mumbled, covering their face with his other hand - the one Roman wasn’t still holding, “Are you gonna help me carry coffee or not?”

Bursting out into boisterous laughter, Roman let go of his hand and picked everything back up. Virgil quickly took the others and thanked the barista - who winked knowingly at him for some reason - and began leading the way back down towards Hell. Many people stopped to stare as they walked, most of them at Roman, who’s tail had wrapped itself around his leg almost as soon as they’d stepped out of the coffee shop. Virgil couldn’t help but notice through quick sneaky glances that Roman didn’t seem half as confident out here in the universal hallway as he had been back in the coffee shop. Virgil debated asking why for a moment, deciding not to pray until they neared the gates of hell and Roman started to hide behind them.

“Hey Roman?” Virgil said, glancing back at him, the demon perked up - as if Virgil’s attention alone had made him feel better, “Are uh- are you good? I mean- are you okay? You look more nervous than me …”

“Hm? What? No - I’m fine, totally fine,” Roman waved him off with a smile that was much faker than the ones he’d given in the coffee shop, “Why would I not be okay?”

Raising an eyebrow, Virgil looks him over, Roman’s smile slowly drops into an apprehensive expression, “Your tail is wrapped around your leg, your hands are shaking, you’re fidgeting with your claws, you’re trying to hide behind me…”

“Okay okay,” Roman put his hands up, seeming embarrassed, “I’m- I don’t really like being in the lobby of Hell, that’s all.”

Virgil tilted his head, “What - do you know what the problem itself is? Maybe I can help?” He understood anxiety pretty well after all, he hoped he could help.

“Oh it’s really nothing - it’s just - the way some of the souls look at me? It just bothers me, sometimes.”

Virgil frowns, “But- you said that me looking at you didn’t bother you?” they asked, suddenly worried he had actually upset Roman even though he’d said he wasn’t - but Roman shook his head quickly.

“It’s not the same kind of looking,” Roman said, before hiding his face with a hand when one lady from the main like glared at them, Virgil found himself giving her a fierce look in response - what had driven such protectiveness he would probably never know - but now he understood, at least a little.

Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, that was an issue Virgil was very familiar with - and he could imagine Roman got it a lot worse, considering the way he dressed and the kind of people they got at the desk. He hummed, “Hold on a second - I can- it might help…”

It was a balancing act as Virgil shrugged off his jacket without spilling or dropping anything, Roman watched in surprise as Virgil offered the jacket to him, “It’s uh- it always helps me, when I’m anxious, and it stops people from looking too hard.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Roman shifted the things he was holding and reached out to take the jacket. Where it was far too big on Virgil, it actually fit Roman a lot better, he even pulled the hood up as far as he could with his horns and covered his hands with the sleeves and gave Virgil a small smile.

“Thank you,” Roman said, Virgil noticed his tail slowly uncurling from around his leg to sway side-to-side as it had been back in the coffee shop, “This is- your jacket is very cozy.”

Virgil smiled, “Yeah? I’m glad,” it was strange - it had almost become a habit to let people borrow his jacket when they were more anxious than him - it seemed he was able to be more confident when someone else was less. Even without his jacket, in a sleeveless plum coloured turtleneck, he found he was able to keep his head held high as he led Roman back to the Hellp desk.

“Hey Emo!” Remus yelled as he approached, “Hey RoRo! I almost didn’t recognise you, nice hoodie.”

Virgil could’ve sworn Roman’s face got redder when he quietly pointed out that the jacket was Virgil’s.

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General tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti @scalesfeathersnfur (if anyone wants to be added, let me know!)

Hell's Belles AU tags: @awitchbravestheverge @twoalpacas @goldnskyart @anxious-mess19 @doteddestroyer @yourchemicallyimbalancedromance :)

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#hells belles #sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #prinxiety #rowans writings #hells belles au

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the-platelet-queen · 4 months

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20 Questions Writer Tag

Thanks for the tag @justafunctionalmess ❤️

I have two AO3 accounts so I'll be taking from both of them.

How many works do you have on AO3? 32 works, not counting two abandoned works that are not associated with me anymore.

What is your total AO3 word count? 76,137 words

What fandoms do you write for? Oof, so many it's such a long list. As for the ones I've posted: Psych, Bones, The X-Files, New Girl, Victorious, Monk, That 70s Show, Supergirl, Schitt's Creek, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, the Shadowhunter Chronicles, and two others I'm not gonna mention because they're cringe. I write for at least double what I listed.

What are your top five fics by kudos? Daddy with 343 kudos (Supergirl; I hate it's my most popular fic, purely because of the title), Walter and Nancy with 239 kudos (Victorious), Sparks Fly with 207 kudos (Supergirl), Sleepover with 143 kudos (Schitt's Creek), and Superstar with 127 kudos (Supergirl again).

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I try to! I get email notifications of comments, so I really see them on there, absolutely cherish them, then forget to reply on AO3. Sometimes I go on to reply to some in batches. I never know what to say in reply, but I'm so grateful to everyone that comments!

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? The fic with the angstiest ending was Jericho (The X-Files). I've posted like two angsty fics total, and I don't usually write angst.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? All of my fics end happy so this one was really hard. I guess I'd have to say Cold Blooded Killer because it's not a traditionally happy fic until the end :)

Do you get hate on your fic? Very very rarely, yes. It's only happened three times. The first time I was so upset about it. The second and third times I'm pretty sure it was the same person (guest account commented) so I just deleted it.

Do you write smut? Yes, but I don't post it. I don't write it very often either, very rare.

Do you write crossovers? Nope, not my cup of tea. I don't read them either.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Probably not. At least not that I'm aware of...

Have you ever had a fic translated? No, but I have had someone record an audio of a fic I wrote. Hands down the coolest experience I've had with my writing so far!!

Have you ever co-written a fic? In a way, yes? If writing letters as characters back and forth with my sister counts.

What's your all-time favorite ship? I don't really have a favorite, BUT I guess I choose Mulder and Scully. Because of how they grew old together (I only watched the monster of the week episodes in the revival, but they were so cute together <3)

What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? My Bones high school AU. I've gotten so far on it, but the path ahead is longer. Also, the Boneheads podcast needs to come out so I can rewatch Bones and start writing it again.

What are your writing strengths? Dialogue, probably. I love character interactions, that's what I live for in writing (and also why I write fic). I want to see characters interacting, not necessarily a cool plot, which is why I emulate that in my own writing.

What are your writing weaknesses? Prose. I just don't like writing it (or reading it for the most part).

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I don't know enough about any language to confidently write dialogue for it in my fics. I'd probably get one of my friends who's more fluent in other languages to help me.

First fandom you wrote for? I'm absolutely devastated to share that my first fanfic was for Martha Speaks. I was in second grade and PBS Kids was holding a contest for written stories. Mine ended up over the word limit so I never sent it in.

Favorite fic you've ever written? All of them. Even if the writing isn't as good, it was something I was so proud of at the time, and I can feel that when I read it.

Hmmmm, I'm tagging @bianxiousandcute, @sprqpointintern @that70sshowgoldencouple @thatseventiesbitch @tht70sblog

#the-platelet-queen #writing #tagged #tag game #this was such a walk down memory lane!!#for my that 70s show mutuals. this is alinelovelace lol

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howaboutcastiel · 2 years

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The Tour Guide (Steven Grant x Reader)

Explicit Content: 18+ Readers Only

giddy lil oscar gif for The Vibes

Summary: The reader has never been in a serious relationship, and now things are moving forward in her relationship with Steven. Tonight, she's going to have sex with Steven for the first time and she's almost more nervous than excited. (Based on this anon request)

Word Count: 8.4k

Content: Virgin!PlusSize!GreyAce!Reader, also F!Reader, Smut (of course), fluff, a lil angst. Awkwardness, oral (f receiving), protected PIV.

Author's Note: I wrote this while running a very high fever. It's either the best thing I've ever written or it's complete gibberish.

Things were going well.

Unfortunately, that sets the scene perfectly for things to go completely to shit, doesn’t it? Things were going wonderfully, though, there’s no other way to say it.

You and Steven had been dating for three months. It was your first serious relationship, the most intimate you’d ever been with another person. Steven had fallen absolutely head-over-heels for you, a fact that you couldn’t begin to fathom even this far along. Things were getting pretty serious with him and you were experiencing a lot of firsts. The next ‘first’ that was coming up, had you admittedly more nervous than excited by far.

Steven had given you so much, and you had given back to him likewise. He had shared his life with you openly and honestly—including the existence of Marc and Jake which admittedly took a little time for you to understand. Steven was the first man to go on more than three dates with you. He was also the first man to buy you flowers more than once. Of all of the dates you’d had, Steven was the only man to pay for the date without assuming you’d owe him something in return.

But now you were starting to feel that you owed him something. Not that the thought was particularly upsetting, but it would be a first for you. In plain terms, you were a virgin. Very, very much a virgin. It only made sense that you were nervous to have sex with Steven for the first time. That felt like a pretty big deal to you. Even if he was the most patient, selfless, caring, handsome man you’d ever met in all of your life, the thought of this next step filled you with anxiety.

It didn’t help that you had never felt before the way you’d felt about him. At this point in your life, you had been half convinced you’d never feel this way for anyone at all. When you thought about sex before, the idea was less than exciting in your brain. You were somewhere between indifferent and apathetic, though you did feel a little forlorn by the fact that you felt so different from the people around you. With Steven, though, the idea of sex was something else entirely. It wasn’t as much about you or about the act itself, it was all about him.

You were very nervous, though.

Despite your apprehension, you figured you had to bite the bullet. If you didn’t do something now, you likely never would, and that would be a tragedy. You wouldn’t let what you’d built with Steven die because you couldn’t give yourself to him, and you figured by now that he was tired of waiting for you. You were a bit tired of waiting, too.

So tonight you put on your prettiest dress—the one that hugged your curves in just the right way. You actually shaved (for the first time in who knows how long) and you elected to wear a matching set of nice lingerie. Part of you felt like you were going overboard, while the other feared that nothing would be good enough. Blinded by your own insecurities, you didn’t realize that you alone were everything that Steven wanted and more.

Steven was on your doorstep at seven. He was wearing the suit he’d worn for his first date with you, except this time he carried himself with tenfold the confidence. He wielded not a bouquet, but a single pink rose in his right hand. Steven was just as giddy as usual, no sign of his long and no doubt stressful workday on his face. You had asked him specifically if you could do something to mark the occasion—the occasion being three months since your first date, of course. No other reason.

“Hello, darling,” He sang as you opened the door. Steven’s cheeks flooded pink as he took in the way you looked in that dress. His eyes sparkled as they surveyed your body, widening slightly around his soft brown irises as he met your gaze. “My word. You look absolutely lovely.”

“Don’t look so bad yourself, handsome.” You grabbed your purse on the way out the door, happily taking the rose that he offered. Despite the playfulness in your words, you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him. His hair was combed back, though the unruly curls would hardly stay in the order Steven had tried to make. The suit was remarkably well-fitted, almost like it was tailored. Perhaps it was, you couldn’t really be sure. You were sure, however, that the elated expression on his face was all for you. And you couldn’t fathom that.

“I hope you don’t mind walking. It’s not very far, I promise. Not even two blocks.” The rambling could also be because of you, but Steven always rambled a bit. He just had so many thoughts in his brain and they were all so excited to come out of his mouth, sometimes they fought to be the first one. It was kind of endearing even when it made for awkward conversation. “I have a reservation, so don’t get worried if the place is crowded when we get there. We shouldn’t have to wait long at all. A bloody good thing, too, ‘cuz I’m sort of starving. And I made sure—”

“Steven?” He blinked at your interruption.

“Yes, love?”

“Thank you.” You placed a soft kiss on his cheek. The two of you were barely a hundred yards from your door and already he was radiating more energy than you could muster up in a week. If you had any hope of making it through the night, you’d have to find a way to calm him down or tire him out.

“You like italian food, don’t you?”

“I do.” You just couldn’t get it. How was Steven so worried about pleasing you? How was he interested at all, for that matter? No one had ever been so interested in you before. Steven genuinely seemed to enjoy your company. It was an innocent kind of joy, though there was no mistaking how he ogled you sometimes. That you couldn’t fathom either.

Body positivity is an easier task when it’s other people’s bodies. Curves were beautiful on other women. They were endearing on men, too. They just weren’t acceptable on you. At least, that’s what you told yourself. You had been plus size all of your adult life and even before that. Your body was genetically built to hold more weight and to have a slightly larger structure than most. You hated that fact, though. You hated your extra weight, your stretch marks. You hated the number on the tags of your clothes. You hated the body in your mirror. And part of you thought that the more he looked, Steven would grow to hate it just as much.

It couldn’t be further from the truth, but you couldn’t see that.

The restaurant was teeming with people, just like Steven had predicted. You really didn’t have to wait long, though, as Steven politely pushed his way to the front counter where the tired hostess gave a burdened smile. The table reserved for you was near the window, away from the loudest part of the building. You would be able to watch the sunset from here and you’d be able to chat with Steven without having to shout. It all seemed to work out perfectly.

“Your waitress will be right with you.” The hostess touted overly-cheerily as she placed down the menus and returned to the front. You felt for her a little bit; dealing with the public at a place like this had to be far from rewarding.

“Should we get a bottle of wine?” Steven inquired as he lifted his reading glasses out of his pocket. You pondered the idea. Would the buzz be beneficial, or would it be a bad idea to get drunk for something like this?

“I’d really just like water.” You decided. He wrinkled his nose a little bit, but seemed to agree with your idea. He looked so cute in his glasses, hunching over subconsciously to read the menu. His stance almost made him look taller, which was kind of intimidating to you. Not that you tended to find Steven intimidating, though he was suspiciously agile and strong for a tour guide.

It was hard to make conversation through dinner. Well, hard to keep conversation. You tended to let Steven take an idea and run, listening to him ramble until he realized he was doing so. It was a way to get his energy out, and he was always excited to share himself with you. Telling you about his day—or about something new that he’d learned or something he’d seen that he thought you would like—was just too hard to resist for him. He couldn’t seem to share enough of himself with you.

So you tried to do the same. You started by mentioning your own day at work, where your nutty boss had accused you of messing up paperwork and you’d had the unique satisfaction of being able to prove her wrong. Steven giggled at your story, admittedly attracted to the way you stood up for yourself. He was a sucker for strong women. You let the conversation shift, though, as the waitress brought out your appetizers and refilled your drinks.

“You seem a bit distracted, love,” Steven didn’t mean it in an accusatory way. His eyes were tinged with worry, in fact. You were distracted, but you didn’t want to say why exactly. You had taken notice to the way that your waitress was looking at him. She was so much prettier than you, you thought. Her skinny hourglass figure was more than evident even under her uniform. Her wide blue eyes were flirting even as she didn’t say anything, just left lingering glances on Steven. A tiny pit grew in the depth of your stomach.

What if he would rather have someone like her?

“It’s just been a long day. I’m all here, babe. Didn’t mean to be rude.” You took a large swig of your drink, trying to conceal the way you blushed behind your glass.

“No, it’s okay. You aren’t being rude.” He wore such a genuine smile. It was such a rarity in your eyes, men tended to dawn such arrogance or altogether vapidness. Not Steven. He was different. He looked at you not just like an equal, but like someone he could adore or even worship. He gave such affection without a second thought.

“Do you think we can just go back to your flat after this?” You asked. Steven would have loved to take you out somewhere, like a bowling alley or even an arcade. He liked to be playful with you, to make a good time out of innocent fun. But he also liked for you to tell him what you wanted. “I think we should watch a movie or something.”

“We can do that.” He took a bite out of his breadstick. Your entrees would be coming any time now and you, much like him, were beginning to get ravenous the longer you had to wait. You had spent a good bit of time at Steven’s flat and it was becoming one of your favorite places. As time moved forward, you found yourself showing up there more often. Steven didn’t mind at all.

When your plates arrived, you both took a solid pause from conversation to tear into your piping hot food. The warmth put your mind at ease, if only for a moment, about the night you had ahead. Steven wouldn’t continue to date you if he wasn’t attracted to you. Hell, you had said yourself that he must be pissed you weren’t having sex with him yet. Everything was going to go just fine. He’s a man, right? You likely wouldn’t even have to do much.

But what if his gentle demeanor meant he paid more attention to the things that other men might brush aside? What if he wasn’t lust-driven enough to ignore the stretch marks on your thighs? What if your love handles were off-putting to him? You cut the thoughts off before they began to spiral, not wanting to ruin your dinner.

“Is your food good?” Steven muttered between bites. You could tell he was trying to be polite as he utterly stuffed his face. His lunch break was more than six hours ago, so of course he was starving by now. He stifled little noises of pleasure as he scarfed down his food. One tiny little groan made its way through, though, sending an unfamiliar warmth to your chest.

“It’s very good. I don’t even have to ask about yours, do I?” You smiled a bit at his fervency, noting that he almost looked ten years younger as he enjoyed his little meal. The circles were less noticeable under his eyes, the tiredness pushed out by satisfaction. He was a sight to behold and you remembered just how much you were in love.

It was hard to think straight as dinner went on. Steven finished his food before you, so he started to talk again as you continued to eat. This time he didn’t talk about work or about the most recent book he’d read. He began to talk about you. The two of you.

“I was thinking that perhaps I could introduce you to the boys—to Marc and Jake, I mean. After all, they’re kind of around as much as I am, sometimes more. It’s inevitable that you’re going to meet them soon and I don’t want you to be frightened. It takes some getting used to, I know that, but they already know a lot about you and they’re very nice, I promise. We don’t have to do that right now, though. I don’t think either of them even really want to tonight. Not because of you, of course! They think you’re lovely.”

You let him babble on, as he seemed exceptionally comfortable getting his thoughts out to you. Your food was starting to get cold and you figured you’d have to get a box or risk overeating and making yourself ill. He was on to the next subject just as quickly as he’d gotten to the first.

“I also had an idea that you could come with me to the staff Christmas party at the museum, yeah? Of course, you don’t have to if you don’t want. I just thought it’s about time that I got to brag about you. I mean—I’d give Donna a shock, wouldn’t I? A beautiful girl on my arm and all that, she’d get a kick out of it. I suppose she thinks I don’t have it in me. She said the same thing about me getting promoted to tour guide, though, and I proved her wrong on that one, didn’t I?”

If this is what Steven was like when he was sober at the end of the day, then what on earth must he be like after a few glasses of wine? You hoped for the future that getting him drunk might be a way to settle him down, but you honestly doubted it. He just carried so much of a youthful zeal, one that couldn’t be stomped on by anything.

The sun was well below the horizon when you finished up at the restaurant. You had insisted that Steven let you leave the tip, if nothing else so that you wouldn’t feel so bad about silently hating your server. The two of you started toward Steven’s flat, which was a bit further from the restaurant than yours. He seemed to have run out of things to say, much to your surprise.

“Which movie should we watch?” You broke the silence as he wrapped his arm around your back. He was a short and muscular man, so his arm didn’t comfortably reach all the way around, which sent a wave of insecurity through you. He didn’t seem to mind, though, leaning into your touch as he contemplated what film to put on. “I’m thinking a comedy. Some kind of classic.”

“What about The Princess Bride?” Steven mumbled.

“Sounds good to me.” You honestly didn’t care that much about the movie. Other things were at the forefront of your mind, like how Steven’s hand on your side felt like flames against your skin. You considered it odd that you wanted to lean further into the feeling. Why would you chase that sensation? Your confusion didn’t stop you from wanting more.

Your heart was skipping around by the time you made it to his apartment complex. A thin layer of sweat coated your hands and your ears and cheeks were burning, too. You hadn’t even decided for sure that you were going to do anything. As far as Steven was concerned, you were going to watch a movie.

You contemplated kissing him on the elevator ride up. He seemed receptive to it, obviously, but you feared that anything you initiated might be biting off more than you could chew. You hadn’t spoken much with Steven about your lack of experience. He hadn’t talked to you about his prior relationships, either, but you knew that he was more well-versed than you.

Steven placed a casual arm around your shoulder as you sat on his old and worn couch. He’d shed his suit jacket as soon as you had made it through the door. The way he so thoughtlessly showed you affection sent a wave of confidence up your spine (and a wave of heat down your spine). You got maybe ten minutes into the movie before both of you had abandoned it for a dedicated make-out session.

The making out you had done before, though you still weren’t the most experienced. Steven wasn’t your first kiss, but he was the first kiss that you’d actually enjoyed. That you had pined for over and over again. You’d gotten a good bit of practice thus far, but you would never reject an opportunity to gain more experience kissing him.

Your heart began to beat faster as you snaked your hand under his shirt. You ran your fingers up his chest, feeling his skin shudder as his breath hitched at the contact. His kiss became softer and slower, and he pulled his lips away before leaning into your forehead.

“This is new,” he noted breathlessly, his hand gingerly cupped behind your neck. “Not that I’m complaining.”

His lips were back on yours just as quickly as they had separated. Your hand persisted underneath his shirt, your wrist working to undo the buttons that your hand had gone between. You couldn’t believe that Steven was being as gentle as he was. It made sense, he was always gentle, but you could tell from his breath that he was bursting at the seams. Enthusiastic in all things, you guessed. This wouldn’t be any different.

“Steven—” You grumbled into his mouth, not quite wanting to pull away, but having to fight the growing panic in your chest. You didn’t know what exactly to do next and you knew sooner or later he was going to notice your apprehension, which bordered on a lack of participation.

“Hmm?” He slowed down his kiss, not pulling away but giving you ample chance to do so. You racked your brain for the right words to say to him, but there was no way to beat around the bush. “I need to talk to you first.”

He pulled away, puzzled. After all, you were the one who had initiated this. His hand left your neck, but yours stayed awkwardly on his chest. You could feel his heart beating nearly as fast as yours.

“Is something wrong?” Steven’s cheeks tinged with red as he asked you the question.

“Nothing’s wrong. Well, I guess. Nothing’s wrong with you, baby, it’s just…” Again, no sugar-coating this. “I’ve never done this before.”

“You… what?” His face bore an innocent confusion. He was really gonna make you say it, wasn’t he? “Never done what?”

“I’m a virgin, Steven.” His eyes widened at that word. A million thoughts ran across his eyes, though you couldn’t make out a single one. He seemed to blush a bit harder and you were sure that you were blushing, too.

He didn’t say anything. He just stared at you with puppy dog eyes. Ironically lust-filled ones.

“Is that a problem?” You didn’t like the silence. Now it was your turn to ramble. “I’m just a little scared, is all. I don’t know exactly what to do. I mean, I know how it works in theory, but I’ve never gotten this far. I don’t want to make a big deal out of it, but I also want to make you feel good. I’m kind of a mess, you know. I’m a bit uncoordinated, too. I’m just so nervous that I won’t do something right—”

“Love?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re doing great. We’re gonna do this together and I’m gonna walk you through it, yeah? Unless you don’t want me to do that.” He seemed very matter-of-fact in the way he was speaking. It seemed out of place to you for Steven to talk so casually about sex. It brought a wave of relief through you, too. If he was so confident about this, then surely you had nothing much to worry about.

“You sure that won’t be too awkward? I don’t want you to feel like you’re babying me.” Your face was on fire by now. The heat in your belly had been transformed to something kind of like nausea. You hoped it wouldn’t stay like that.

“Don’t worry about that. I want you to be comfortable.” His eyes were doughy and sweet and his hand returned to its place on your neck. He used his other arm to sweep under your chin before planting a little peck on your lips. “Just go on until you feel that you need help.”

You returned to your previous rhythm of snogging him, not letting your racing thoughts interrupt your body’s movements. This part at least was intuitive, you continued to lean into his touch as his shirt slowly came unbuttoned. As he pressed up into your waist, you could feel how tight his pants were becoming. You didn’t know how to feel about that, but your body had its own response.

You couldn’t stop the whimper from escaping your lips as he tentatively bucked up into you. He was restraining his strength—that much you could tell—but he wasn’t hiding the fact that he really wanted you to keep going. The sound that you’d made without realizing seemed to set him off, too. He let a harsh breath out against you as his grip tightened on your neck.

Steven, my dress,” You whispered as you moved your mouth to his neck. Your brain was clouded even though all of your senses had kicked into overdrive. Your dress was suddenly far too cumbersome, the fabric digging into your skin in a hundred different places at once. You reached your hand down to grab his arm, guiding it up to the zipper on your back.

Wow. I can’t believe I just did that.

He wasted no time in pulling it down. You gasped a bit as your bare skin was exposed to the cool air, but the feeling was quickly undermined by the relief of the way the fabric fell off your skin. Steven’s calloused hand left goosebumps on your back. He trailed his hand upward lazily as you pressed hot kisses onto his neck.

“You think we ought to move to the bed?” His voice was choked. You leaned upward to see his eyes shut tightly as he tried not to buck into you again. It wasn’t a nice feeling that he was holding back for your sake, but it was a very pretty sight.

“We probably should.” You stood up off of him, catching your dress before it could cascade off you altogether. Steven gathered a breath as he sat up on the couch, running his knuckle over his mouth and looking up at you, absolutely drunk with lust.

He shed his button-up as he followed you to his bedroom, and you couldn’t quite feel your legs. He fumbled with his belt buckle after tossing his shirt over to the hamper in the corner of his room. You figured now would be a good time to drop your dress. And so you did, kicking it up with your foot and turning it in your hands until it formed a ball that you could throw to the hamper as well. You held your breath for Steven’s response.

He was in heaven. His eyes ran across your body like you were a statue of one of the Greek gods. He didn’t know what to do with himself and he very obviously twitched in his pants the second he laid eyes on you. It was more than reassuring, if not a bit shocking.

“You’re so gorgeous, darling.” Steven’s hands returned to your body as you sat on the foot of the bed. You brought your lips back against his, now fighting an urge to rake your fingers through his hair. Actually, raking them through wouldn’t be a problem, but you were fighting the odd urge to pull his hair.

He pushed you back against the mattress, gently and slowly to gauge exactly how nervous you were. Steven could never bear to hurt you, and he certainly wasn’t willing to overstep your boundaries. He was eager for you, though, and he knew that he needed to push your limits if you were ever going to muster the courage to do this tonight.

“You know, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” Of course he meant the words genuinely, but you weren’t blind to the fact that he really, really wanted to keep going. You shook your head at his statement. If you were going to do this, now was the time. And your body was screaming for you to do this.

“I’m okay, baby. We can keep going.” By now his erection was more than evident against his pants. You reached to unbutton them, but your arms were not quite long enough. You ended up pulling Steven’s face into your chest, causing him to fumble his weight. He sucked in a short breath, surprised. “Sorry!”

“S’okay,” He laughed lightly into your breast, looking up at you as you were hit with subtle embarrassment. He ran his fingertips along the top of the lace, a patient smile on his lips. “You’re doing great. Just keep going and remember to use your words.”

He slid his own hand down to his waist, unbuttoning his pants before returning his grasp to your bust. He fumbled behind you for the clasp of your bra.

A quick wave of panic ran through you as he pressed his fingers underneath the band more agilely than you expected of him. Steven had never seen you naked before, and now was the perfect time for all of your insecurities to rush to the forefront of your brain. In spite of your trust in him and your growing heat, you felt yourself starting to forget how to breathe.

Steven took notice of this.

“Hey, love, it’s alright.” He leaned back for a moment, not understanding what exactly had set you off. He surveyed your body for anywhere he might be holding you too close; maybe he didn’t realize he was hurting you? But there was no injury. You were physically fine. “I thought we were doing pretty well. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know how to explain. I just feel like something’s going to go wrong.” You gave him a pathetic look and he knew that there was no merit in your apprehension. He didn’t want to trivialize, though, so he thought carefully before he said his next words.

“Is there something I can do to ease your mind? Some kind of… fantasy or something that you feel like we could play out?” He was grasping at straws, but Steven was confident enough in his sexuality that tonight could be all about you and it’d be no problem to him. He was so goddamn smitten by you, he was willing to do close to anything to make a sex life between you work out. In reality, he wouldn’t really need to change anything at all.

“Don’t laugh.”

“Darling, I would never laugh at you. Now out with it.”

“Can you just… tell me that I’m not too big for you?”

Steven’s eyes grew the widest you’d ever seen them, but that look of shock was quickly replaced with something else. Anger? Annoyance? Determination? You didn’t know exactly, but it was almost a scary look. If looks could kill, except there was something genuinely unhinged in the way he stared back at you. He let out a low scoff. It was sour, offended.

“You think you’re… too big for me?” He replaced his hand against the clasp of your bra, quite aggressively snapping it apart, though he didn’t move to pull the cups or straps away yet. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Where the hell does a thought like that come from? It couldn’t be farther from the truth, love. I don’t think you’re too big. What does that even mean?”

He ran his knuckle along your face, studying you for your reaction to his words. They sent relief through you, of course, but they also were sending something else. Something you weren’t used to feeling. Steven’s aggressive words of affirmation sent concentrated heat straight down between your legs, all but setting you on fire. His gaze softened a bit. From his perspective, you still looked terrified.

“Why would I want you to be any smaller? Hmm? That just means that there’s less of you to hold. I would be mental to want that.” You couldn’t help yourself but to gain more confidence as he continued to ramble on. “Why would I want any less of these?”

On his own vocal cue, he pushed the cups of your bra away from your breasts, revealing to himself your bare chest. You were nervous to see his reaction, but he wasn’t exactly going to give you one. Not in the way you were thinking, at least. With no forethought, he pressed his face into your skin, taking your nipple gently in his mouth. The humid warmth juxtaposed the cool air. You gave up fighting the urge to tug on his curls.

“Steven!“ You whispered, surprised by his fervor. You were grateful, though, as his excitement only fed your self-assurance. This time, more carefully, you reached for his pants with only one hand, able to just barely reach the fabric.

His whole body shuddered at the barely-there contact of your hand. If only you could reach just a tiny bit further, but his groin was even farther from you now that he was at eye-level with your chest. Your nervousness was slowly warping into impatience. You had the urge to grind up into him.

“Darling. Words.” Steven’s voice was barely audible against your skin. He’d noticed the restiveness of your hips, which weren’t at a decent angle to gain any friction from him. He wasn’t making assumptions, though, for the sake of letting you set the pace.

“I need more.” You heard the sounds leave your lips, though you hadn’t decided to say them. Your body was more than a few steps ahead of your poor, anxious brain. He whimpered a bit as you tugged on his curls, sending another wave of heat downward. “Please. Now.”

“I’m going to take these off, okay?” Steven looped a finger under the band of your panties. You nodded, shifting your weight as he pulled them down over your thighs. As he tossed them aside, he took a pause to remove his dress pants as a means of evening the playing field a bit. He was cheerful, almost goofy as he crawled back onto the bed.

“This is the bit where you get to tell me what to do. I know I said it’d be the other way around.” He planted kisses on your thighs, carefully spreading your legs and leaning down against your frame. “Now I’m going to assume that what I’m doing doesn’t feel good or bad. You’ve got to tell me otherwise.”

The noise that he drew from your mouth as he pressed a finger gently to your core was the most desperate sound you could have made. Even you were surprised, as up until this point you’d been so on the fence about any of this. Steven was remarkably calm, but he raised his eyebrow at the filthy little groan. He held his hand still, much to your dismay.

“What’s that, love?” He had to be teasing you, right? You couldn’t tell if his patience and selflessness would prove to be a blessing or a curse.

“F—Feels good. Keep going.” Your own voice was ringing in your ears, but it slowly faded as the sounds of Steven’s pleasure overtook them. You were scared that you were coming off desperate as you moved your legs to plant your feet and gain more leverage. Steven smiled a little, though, giving a hint that your neediness was what he wanted to see.

He pressed a finger slowly into you, using his thumb to circle your clit. You figured Steven knew his anatomy, so he must be avoiding direct contact on purpose. Now the tentativeness was proving to be an annoyance. The stretch felt good, though it wasn’t nearly enough. Steven’s fingers were stockier than your own, and the angle was different than you were used to. You pressed downward onto his hand.

“Easy, darling. Don’t hurt yourself.” Steven used his other hand to hold down your hips. He didn’t use much force, more utilizing his strength as a warning than as a restraint. You couldn’t help yourself, though, from trying to force him deeper into you.

“Steven, more.” You felt separated from your head. He pressed his thumb right into your clit, lining a second finger up to follow beside the first one. Your legs were shaking with the urge to push up again and your hand was dangerously rough as it abused his scalp, the other white-knuckling the sheets. What you said next was something you had never imagined you’d have the guts to say to a man in this position.

“Use your mouth.”

You couldn’t expect his reaction to that. Steven let out a groan, low and deep from the pit of his chest. A sly smile stretched across his lips and he almost looked proud of you. He also happily obliged your request.

With Steven’s tongue working in tandem with his fingers and thumb, it was hard for you to think, let alone continue giving him direction. He found a rhythm pretty quickly, his fingers pumping slowly and deeply as his tongue kept the pressure on your entrance unpredictable. Before long, he was grinding against the bed, panting and whining into your cunt.

His voice sent you over the edge.

With a particularly feral whimper from him, you were pulsing over his fingers and all but yelling expletives as you came. Uncoordinated and blinded by stars, you tugged at the back of his neck until he crawled up to meet you at eye level.

“Did that feel good?” He was definitely teasing you now. Steven knew the answer to his question, but he relished the sight of you coming down from your high. Your eyelids struggled to open even a bit and your chest heaved underneath him as you fought to steady your breath. Your limbs were weak, but you felt too determined to give up on him now, especially after the pleasure he’d just given you.

“Your turn.” You muttered, fighting the fatigue that wouldn’t let you sit up. You propped yourself up on your elbow, using your other arm to reach out to him.

He had leaked a wet spot onto his briefs, his erection painfully hard underneath the thin layer of cotton. This part would be another first for you and you had no frame of reference for what to expect. You traced the outline of him through the fabric, too shy to just reach your hand in. His hand darted to meet yours and he snaked his fingers in between yours from behind, effectively guiding your hand.

“Do you have a condom?” You asked sheepishly as he pressed your hand against him with more force. There was an unfamiliar look in his eyes, one that was too calm given the situation. His expression didn’t match his body.

“I do.” His voice was different from before. Much less tentative, though it was still soft. “I assume you’re asking because you want me to fuck you?”

That you didn’t expect from him. Steven was the kind of person to use “darn” and “my word” instead of even the most family-friendly expletives. But there was no lack of confidence in his words, and he stared at you as though he was sincerely waiting for your response. You moved your hand upward, squeezing his tip lightly through the fabric.

“Yes. I do.” Your voice wasn’t as confident as you would have liked, but you got your point across nonetheless. All of the cliche first time racing thoughts took their turns in your brain, but you couldn’t deny that you wanted him to continue.

Is this going to hurt? What if he’s too big for me? What if the condom breaks? Wait, am I supposed to just lie here and let him do all the work? That doesn’t seem right, but what else can I do?

Your hand grazed a particularly sensitive spot, causing Steven’s breath to hitch. He dropped his hand from yours, leaning back so that you couldn’t quite reach him anymore.

“We should speed this up, yeah?” He stepped off of the bed to rid himself of his briefs. As he turned to the side, you noticed the muscles along his back flexing and relaxing as he bent his arms and leaned forward. For the first time, his strength was a bit scary to you. Your innermost thoughts were fears that he would break you apart.

Steven turned back to face you, finally absent of his clothes as you had been for the last little while. You honestly had no frame of reference for how big he was—besides porn of course, but you knew better than to use that for comparison. You tried not to dwell on the sight too much, other than noting that he was surprisingly thick, so you turned your attention to something else as he dug through his bedside drawer.

“Would it be weird if I put your condom on for you?” Your voice was tiny against the sound of his hands rummaging through the drawer. He raised an eyebrow at you, an amused look of contemplation on his face.

“That depends. Do you know how?” His gaze didn’t break from the drawer, but you could see that he already had the packet in his hand. The smile on his face was cheeky, but it wasn’t patronizing or rude.

“Yeah. I mean—I’m pretty sure I do.” You recalled rolling one onto a banana in sex ed during high school. It couldn’t be much different than that, right?

“Then I say go for it, love.” He tossed the condom at you before dramatically plopping down on the bed, leaning back and letting his legs dangle off the edge. As obviously hard as he was, he didn’t seem to be much in a rush. He looked pretty content, actually. Silly, even.

The hardest part of the ordeal was just getting the wrapper open. You fiddled for a minute with the edge, all the while Steven had to suppress his laughter.

“Shut up!” You whined at him before giving up and ripping the wrapper with your teeth. It wasn’t the condom itself that you were unsure of; you were still a bit scared to touch Steven. Your apprehension was obvious all over your face.

“You know it doesn’t bite, right?” The expression on his face was somewhere between snarky and cute. He knew that a line like that would have been off-putting a half hour ago, but it was the perfect level of teasing to match your energy now.

It took a bit longer than it should have for you to roll the condom to the base of his dick, but he didn’t mind, and he noted how impressed he was that you had managed to put it on correctly. He did, however, mind that your hands were all over him and he believed he needed to hold back his words of praise. Not because the words themselves would be too much; Steven knew if he opened his mouth to worship you he’d be unable to stop, and you didn’t need to be overwhelmed tonight.

“Alright, love,” He crawled over you tentatively, again with a surprising aura of calmness and patience. “I’m going to go really slow. If I’m hurting you, you have to tell me, okay?”

“Okay. I trust you, baby.” You didn’t know exactly what to do with your hands, but you knew that you wanted to be closer to him than you already were. He lined himself up with your hips, again using his hand to gauge how ready you were for him. You’d never been aroused enough to want more than one orgasm in a night, but Steven’s demeanor was leaving you less and less satisfied with the one he’d already pulled from you.

As he slowly pushed in, you elected to wrap one arm up around his neck, using the other to brace yourself against the sheets. The stretch was a lot more than you were anticipating and you instinctively tensed around him at the unfamiliar feeling.

“Relax, love,” he stilled, well shy of bottoming out. A thin layer of sweat was covering you both, though you were sure his position was more uncomfortable than yours. “It’ll feel better that way. I don’t want you to be in any pain.”

You took a deep breath before untensing your muscles. Steven waited for a second before continuing to move deeper into you. He shut his eyes to help him focus on his movement, not completely trusting himself to hold steady as pent-up as he already was.

“You feel alright?” He asked as he finally bottomed out. You nodded, breathless, still focusing on keeping yourself relaxed. The feeling was neither good nor bad, but it was wildly unfamiliar. You took a moment to get used to the sensation of fullness before speaking to him.

“I’m good.” You took another few deep breaths and it became easier for you to fight the tension in your limbs. He looked at you with an inquiring face, his lips parted slightly and his eyes lidded. “You can move, I think.”

“You’re doing so good, love,” Steven hummed before pulling back out only slightly faster than he’d pushed in. While the stretch had been a bit of an awkward feeling, you didn’t like the emptiness left in his absence. This time, when he bottomed out again, you were much more receptive to the feeling. It felt less like an intrusion, more like a welcome advance.

He set a slow pace, attentive to any sign that you were in pain or otherwise unhappy. Steven watched as the stress melted from your face and, before long, nothing but contentment remained. More heat was rushing down to your core, feeding your desire to be closer to him and warping the contentment into a hunger for more.

“Can—Can you go faster?” You asked him with a hitch in your breath. He’d been waiting for you to say that. You arched your back up in an attempt to kiss him, effectively changing the angle that he was pressing into you. Something inside you shot a wave of electricity up your spine.

That feeling was new.

“Steven, there.” You pushed your chest up further, having trouble supporting yourself but chasing the new stimulation. He got the jist of what you were asking and leaned down to meet the angle you were requesting. Another electric shock overcame you.

A guttural moan erupted from your mouth and you tensed around him. Steven squeezed his eyes shut again, throwing his head back with a soft “fuck” and sputtering a bit in his pace.

You pulled him down to kiss you, causing his breath to catch in his throat. Everything felt so good, it wasn’t the kind of good that you had imagined it would be. It was blissful and not at all desperate. It was warm and it was soft and it was safe, and you chased the feeling even more. You licked into his mouth, drawing a low, groggy moan from him.

Your pleasure was building steadily in your core. To the best of your strength, you began to roll your hips to match his pace, gaining a bit of friction on your clit that almost hurt in combination with the other feelings. You couldn’t keep yourself from clenching around him again. Steven’s rhythm began to falter, more curses falling from his lips and into yours.

The lack of air you were experiencing from abusing his mouth was only fueling your high. You pulled away as the pleasure forced you to arch your back. You were dangerously close.

“Don’t stop.” You managed to say between gasps. Steven had no intention of stopping, though he was having a lot of trouble steadying his pace. He was getting close, too.

You came around him with a stifled cry, a desperate sound that would have embarrassed you if you could’ve been bothered to care. Your orgasm pulsed through you and you lost your balance against him. The tensing of your body sent him over the edge, too.

He struggled to hold enough of his weight that he wasn’t smothering you, though you wouldn’t have minded much if he did collapse atop your stomach. For a few long moments he just stayed there, gasping for breath. You were having trouble steadying your own breath as well, but you at least had the mattress to support you.

“That was…” He tried to say, but he was panting with too much force to get it out.

“A lot.” You finished for him. Of course, that wasn’t what he was going to say, but he appreciated the thought. “My god.”

“I was going to say ‘amazing,’ but what you said works, too.” He laughed, breathless. “Don’t know what you were so bloody worried about. I’d say you’re a natural.”

He pulled away and disappeared for a half-second in the en-suite bath, making your heart skip a single beat. He returned, though, having disposed of the condom and holding a warm washcloth in his hand.

“I don’t know, babe,” You teased as he crawled back up onto the bed, “I’ll definitely need some more practice.”

He rolled his eyes. You could see another trademarked Steven ramble brewing underneath his satisfied gaze. You wondered how he still had the energy for one.

“I’m not sure what you’d like to do now, but I’ve got a few ideas. First and foremost, though, you should probably use the toilet because I know enough about UTIs to know I don’t want you to get one. We can shower together, if you want, but I understand if that’s too big of a step right now. I brought you a towel if you’d rather just clean up a bit and do something else. We can still watch the movie, I’ve got microwave popcorn around here somewhere—”

“I think I can take it from here, love.” You giggled lazily as he handed you the rag. The movie sounded good, but so did turning in early. You were tired. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Of course, darling. I hope everything felt okay. You’re feeling alright now, aren’t you? I mean, I don’t mean to assume…”

“I feel wonderful.” You pecked a kiss on his cheek. Steven blushed at you a tiny bit before reaching for a clean pair of boxers. “You did great.”

“Kinda weird that you’re saying that to me, huh?” He cupped your cheek before heading for the kitchen. “Now really, go pee. I’m gonna go make some tea. You want to finish the movie?”

“We can do that. I might not stay awake all the way through.” You glanced down at the pile of clothes that hadn’t made it to the hamper. A mildly sad thought occurred. “Honey, do you have something I can wear?”

Steven’s shirts wouldn’t fit you, unfortunately. You didn’t dwell on that, though, not giving any bad thoughts the opportunity to hold their ground. Not after the phenomenal evening you had made.

“There’s a robe hanging on the bathroom door.” He called to you, already putting on the kettle. “Guess you’ll need to bring a change of clothes from now on.”

“I can certainly live with that.”

You wound up snuggled together on the old couch, both minimally dressed and more than exhausted from the day. The Princess Bride continued playing on the screen, but neither of you paid too much attention to that. You abandoned the idea of popcorn, much too tired to eat.

Surprisingly, nothing felt too different about tonight, save for the fact that Steven was wearing far fewer clothes. You were just as content, just as giggly and just as easy-going as ever. If you had more energy, the two of you probably could have gone bowling after all. Steven made intimacy with you feel inherent. It was something he was meant to do with you.

“I don’t want to walk home.” You grumbled into his chest about the time the credits started to roll. You certainly didn’t want to put back on that cumbersome dress.

“I wouldn’t dream of that, love. Why don’t you stay here with me?”

Going to sleep that night was the most natural thing in the world, too. Steven held you gently, but warmly enough that you knew he’d never want to let you go. Nothing could ever make him want to let you go.

I'm tagging everyone for this one.

@n1ght5h4d3-24 @magicwithaknife @rmoonstoner @nervouslaught3r @unavoidabledirewolf @sarcasm-n-insomnia @kbakery @mccn-bcys @gingermous @dennyreadsfanfic @rosequinn121 @avatarofseshat @damreonsgirl @dragons-are-my-favorite @k8esilver @competentpotato @theconsultingdoctor10 @notsochillnerd @rayrlupin @moony-artemis @nerdory10 @valkyrieace @kezibear @ahookedheroespureheart @mt2sssss

#steven grant imagine #steven grant x you #moon knight #steven grant #moon knight x you #steven grant x reader #moon knight x reader #steven grant smut #masterlist

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thelightsandtheroses · 2 months

Note

hi bby ✨ I’m hoping to spread a little love around today (it is someone’s birthday after all — so you might see others answering this)!

I am a big fan of people enjoying cake and celebrating, and sometimes cake can be just tooting your own horn 💁‍♀️ so with that in mind, I’d love to know what THREE pieces of work you’re super proud of that you’d recommend others reading, and why 🍰

Hi jo,

I love this idea so much and I'm sorry if this got long! I fully support the cake and celebrating - I'm having a great time and adding to my tbr by seeing other answers to this as well. So, for my three fics I'm most proud of/would recommend to others:

Sing Fever to the Form I love romance tropes like fake dating but i was really proud of the twists I put on this and way I explored this with Frankie. It bought in a number of ideas and tiny references at the time I felt nervous and not confident enough to write. Also, this fic was the first one where I decide to try and write a tiny bit more smut than I usually would and gave me confidence in this more than a fade to black (there is nothing wrong with a fade to black at all btw)

Your Hand In Mine I've been plotting this fic since the show started airing but was nervous to write it. My lovely friend @joelsgreys encouraged me when I told her about the idea and so I started writing it. I feel like this fic demonstrates that blend of fluff, angst and romance that I feel is my style at the moment? Flangst, it's flangst. Also, I really started this during a difficult time, when my Javi fic got too personal, too difficult and I was scared I had written myself back into writer’s block or anxiety again. Thiis fic helped me through that, plus I'm proud of how I’ve executed a number of its plots. I am looking forward to bringing it back more to a slightly more romance/fluff place for the last few chapters too.

Let’s Get Lost I think this one is probably the one that seems to be resonating or landing with people the most at the moment, but is one of the ideas I am most proud of. It allows me to write an incredible setting (I haven’t stated where the wedding is for people to imagine, but I have a specific location in mind in my head - it’s somewhere the Carribbean) and play with so many concepts I love? I really care about these characters and from when I started brainstorming the idea more last year, I felt this one had something a little special to it and I really hope I am doing it justice so far.

Also finally, I am cheating here but, I think I have to give an honorable mention to Between the Shadow and Soul which I wrote very early in my time in the fandom and it didn't seem to land at the time, but this fic ran so that all of the above fics could walk and I was so proud of it when I wrote it.

#lolabee's got ✉️#undercoverpena

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dark--whisperings · 7 months

Text

Fic Tag Game

Tagged by the lovely @mischievouschan4 & @wibzenadarksiderwithasoftheart! 💖✨

How many works do you have on ao3?

Thirteen!!

2. What's your Ao3 word count?

101,352. And almost all of that has been in 2023!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Right now, only Star Wars! In the past, I've written for Transformers as well, but I wasn't as dedicated to writing for that fandom as I am Star Wars. I actually started out in fandom as a beta reader and an artist; writing is pretty new to me!

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

the way you say my name - 332 kudos

Those Eyes Like Fire - 205 kudos

Falling Deep Into You - 167 kudos

out of our hands - 143 kudos

Suffocate Me (I'm Still Breathing) - 131 kudos

5. Do you respond to comments?

Always! I adore all of my readers and love a good joint flail in a comment thread!

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Falling Deep Into You. Let me tell you... the boys have it BAD in this one, but we do love their inability to communicate. This is the first part of a three part series. The second part (Falling For Your Body and Soul) also has an angsty ending, but things are slowly starting to resolve in this installment. There will be a third (and final part), but I haven't started working on it yet!

7. What's the fic your write with the happiest ending?

That would be out of our hands. This one starts out angsty as fuck, but resolves into the most tooth rotting, disgustingly soft fluff I've ever written. Close second would be Those Eyes Like Fire, which is mostly snark with a side of fluff.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not so far! Though I have had hateful comments on my art in the past, and it's never fun to deal with. Fuck the haters!

9. Do you write smut? What kind?

Do I write smut... *checks AO3*. Yep, everything I write is smut. 🤣🤣🤣 I do lean towards more kink-focused/taboo smut. You know what they say... write the things that you would want to read as a reader!

10. Do you write cross-overs?

Not so far, and not sure I could do it justice!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not yet, but if anyone would like to... feel free to drop me a dm! 👀

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

I have! Unfortunately, it's no longer posted, but it was a lovely experience that I would do again in a heartbeat. ALSO planning to cowrite one with @mischievouschan4 in the new year. 💖

14. What's your all time favourite ship?

I have a few! Obikin, Kylux, Kalluzeb, and Snarry!

15. What's your WIP you like to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I actually don't have one of these! I only have two WIPs at the moment... one of which I'm about to post the final chapter to (Suffocate Me (I'm Still Breathing)). The other is a long fic that I've been picking away at for a while, but fully intend to finish.

16. What are your writing strength?

I like to think that I'm really good at conveying emotion and building tension with words. I've also been told by others that I'm excellent at figurative language.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm long-winded. Pretty sure I could get the point I'm trying to make across in a lot fewer words than I end up doing.

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

I actually LOVE reading fics with dialogue in another language! I'd love to do one myself, but I'm only somewhat passable in French, and I wouldn't want to post something in another language unless I was confident in my own ability.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Transformers... which also happens to be the first fandom that I was heavily involved in! 🤖

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

the way you bend, the way you break and Suffocate Me (I'm Still Breathing), hands down. Both of these drew on some very real personal vulnerabilities, and I feel like they more than adequately represent the piece of my life that they were intended to. I'm very proud to have put them out in the world.

---

No pressure tags: @tideswept, @innepttia, @anakinschmanakin, @ineffable-snowman, @tennessoui, @fishnamedsushi

#obikin #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #clone wars #star wars #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction by darkwhisperings #a03 fanfic #tag game

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golden-fairylights · 23 days

Text

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you @espithewarlock and @your-littlesecret for atgging me to answer these 20 questions. ❤️

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

14 at the moment

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

109,283

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I hav eonly written Formula 1 RPF for now, but who knows what the future brings. For now there is no other fandom I am as invested in though.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

no take backs (Lasdoscar)

the start of the rest of our lives (Landoscar)

to the love that you share (Landoscar)

The one where Lando is calling Carlos (Carlando and the first fic I've ever posted)

all I ever wanted (Piarles)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I really try to but I'm so bad at it. So, I'm sorry if anyone is still missing an answer, I'll get to it as soon as I have the mental capacity to formulate something that doesn't sound indifferent (because I promise I am truely not, I'm just really bad at formulating it).

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

Well, I think that will have to be A graveyard dance.

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

I have no clue to be honest. All of my fics, except 'A graveyard dance', have a happy ending.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not unitl now and I hope it stays that way. I truely don't understand how someone can take time out of their day to leave hate on something they didn't like.

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

I've written two different smut fics, one of them is already posted, the other one is deep in my finished works folder and I don't know if I'll ever post it.

But it's both kinky, never without concent though. In both of the fics they are in relationships and have previously talked about what they are doing. Oh and then I guess there are also some scenes in my longer fics.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I don't.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think I have.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I didn't

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

Actually I have. They are only my top three most liked fics, so thank you again Kit for writing with me.😊I really think we should get back to that.

I've also started writing something together with Immy after we've both been in a bit of a slump. 🥰

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

Piarles is definitely up there at the top, but Landoscar is there as well, even though I don't write that often.

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

I would say I'm good at finishing my wips but then the eight works I have in my wips foulder would probably come crowding me at night and won't let me sleep.

No but I've got a College fic that I started in Febuary and it's constantly growing. I started it as a oneshot and it just grew from there. I don't have a plan for it and I don't know where it's going to go. I don't even know an end for it so, I'd say that one for now.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I have no clue to be honest. I have times where I'm kind of confident in what I write and then there are times where I hate every single word. I think that I can just start writing without planing it out is kind of a strength, right? But then that has also been a problem for me at some point, but i guess thats my answer for now.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Similar to the one before, I don't know. I feel like I've not written for long enough to really figure all of that out.

It somehow depends on what I am writing and on my day in general I think. For example, on some days I love writing dialogue and on other days I hate it and everything feels wrong.

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

As long as I can understand what the person in the fic is trying to say I'm okay with it.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Forumla 1 RPF

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

I like most of the fics I've posted so far but A graveyard dance holds a special place in my heart. I can't even explain why but it just felt right while I wrote it.

Thank you again for tagging me, it's been so much fun answering those questions.

I don't have any clue who has already answered these so I'm tagging @gaslybottoms @hrhgeorgerussell @leclercenjoyer @chaesonghwas and anyone else who wants to participate. ❤️

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haleigh-sloth · 1 year

Note

What are your thoughts on Gran Torino calling Tomura a “thing” and saying that his death will be his salvation, so Deku shouldn’t try that hard to save him? I’m worried that the story is going to end up agreeing with him in the end.

I've talked a lot about that line. Of course I can't find the most recent post I did where I talked about that line, love tumblr.

My bottom line is: It won't happen.

There are only a handful of characters who I have doubt for in my mind in terms of their arcs being satisfying to the max potential, and Tomura, Touya, and Toga are not on that list.

Gran Torino said that in chapter 309/310 (can't remember exactly which one and I don't feel like checking), and he has not been remembered/acknowledged by the protag or the narrative as a whole since.

I might be wrong and he may have shown up once?? But I'd even go so far as to say I think he's literally had 0 panel time since then, and we're on chapter 385.

Meanwhile in comparison you have Izuku remembering Tomura's pain in that one moment where he realized it was there, and remembering what he said he would do in chapter 305 MULTIPLE times, over the course of 80 chapters later. Now, which one has more narrative importance?

The thing is, the question of "can he be saved" is already there. Tomura's done a lot of damage, left a lot of death, misery, and mourning in his wake. The only positive force he's had in the manga is bringing the League together so none of them died alone, and which has resulted in half of them meeting their about-to-be-heroes. It's really not HARD to wonder "CAN HE BE SAVED??" The question is already there. Which, to me, explained why Gran Torino has been so ignored since he said that.

I know a lot of people try to play the argument of "oh the author did this good writing thing on accident", and no. He didn't. Everything in BNHA is intentional, that is a lesson I've learned. A frustrating, painful, but much appreciated lesson lol. Gran Torino saying it in the first place was intentional. Yes you are supposed to wonder if Izuku might think he has to let Tomura disappear or die. There's gotta be some level of doubt, even if it's not very convincing (and to me it's not lol). And then, Gran Torino being ignored for 80 chapters after is also intentional.

Izuku thinking about Tomura multiple times, asking if he's still there in his own body, knocking him out of his "tomb"--which Izuku referred to it as and emphasized the fact that it was a tomb--and falling to the ground with him to face him in the security of not having everyone else who wants to kill him around, is intentional.

The art is intentional. Look at the most recent panels with the two of them, and look at Izuku's general attitude toward Tomura in comparison to what it was during the PLF war arc. It's a complete 180, it's entirely different and way more full of determination than it is rage and anger. That wasn't on accident.

Anything that involves Tomura dying results in the main protagonist's arc ending in complete failure. The story has not once validated the "kill to save" take, nor has it once validated Gran Torino on anything, ever.

I use this same argument when I talk about Touya. Ochacko saving Toga--which lots of people seem to be more accepting of now, finally--will not happen without Shouto saving Touya and Izuku saving Tomura. None of those three will succeed while one of them fails on the side and mourns their failure to save someone who was crying---which those three villains are all crying. It just won't happen.

Obviously I'm not Horikoshi. But this is seriously one of the things where I am 0% concerned about where the story is headed. Tomura is the best written character in the manga, he's been rewritten time and time again, redrafted time and time again. My confidence that his arc won't be trashed at the end is really high. I am not worried.

#shigaraki tomura #gran torino #shimura tenko #midoriya izuku #deku #bnha asks

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76istracersdad · 7 months

Text

plants - 3.2k words, incomplete

ft. a lot of jack comparing himself to lena and feeling guilty about it, speculation about the slipstream & overwatch's involvement in it, and government coverups

hi all - i figured i'd start posting some of the fic i've written over the years to make this a better archive. note - none of these are complete :(

this one is titled just "plants" and was written late 2020. i think i was aiming for an overarching theme of perennials vs annual plants (ie ones that last and ones that die to put it bluntly) thus some of the plant based commentary.

only change i've made is cassidy's name.

Lena Oxton is, by far, the best candidate for the Slipstream. Her test scores are perfect across the board, her commanding officers give glowing reviews of her abilities and all mention her natural aptitude for taking on challenges, and leadership abilities that shine despite her position as a non-commissioned officer. Despite the flight program not technically being under Jack Morrison’s command, he is currently the highest ranking officer in Switzerland right now, and Director Petras wants to give this ace pilot a warm welcome. And neither he nor Ana Amari, his second-in-command and the woman sitting directly to his right, know anything about this mysterious pilot.

“They didn’t even give us her age,” Ana comments idly, legs crossed at the ankles and fingers tapping on the table. “She could be older than you, Jack.”

“I thought you said that was impossible?” Jack tosses back, smirking a bit despite the uncomfortable situation they’re both in. First meetings in any military-esque organization are rarely actually first impressions, due to the personnel files stored on anyone who’s ever so much as sneezed on a recruiter. He runs a hand through his grey hair, thinning and receding at the front. Ana’s has gone grey as well. Gabe, the lucky bastard, is the only one out of the three of them to even have a hint of his original hair color left, and he shaves most of it off and sticks a beanie on top just to spite them.

Jack’s pulled out of his musings by the sound of a knock on the office door, and he and Ana stand up straight. “Come on in,” Jack says, a little unprofessional and hits the button to open the door.

Lena Oxton is, in fact, not older than Jack or Ana. Ana stiffens a bit next to Jack when she sees the younger girl, smiling wide and walking confidently in RAF service dress, two chevrons on her arms denoting corporal rank. Her hat is tucked underneath her arm, and the sergeant who walked her here nods and salutes to Jack. Jack nods back at him, and he takes his leave. It’s a meeting just between the corporal and Overwatch, after all.

“Good morning Strike-Commander Morrison, Captain Amari,” Lena Oxton says, maybe out of turn but her eagerness and the sharp salute she gives them, all with a cheerful grin on her face, makes Jack let it go.

“At ease, Corporal,” Jack says, waving his hand and motioning towards a chair across the table from him and Ana. Ana is still silent next to him, and it’s only from years of service together does he know that she’s silently furious. He hasn’t let himself feel any anger yet, and instead pulls a notepad out from underneath the limited files he has on Oxton. Clicking his pen once, he gives her a small smile and says, “I have to say, you’re not exactly who we were expecting.”

Lena smiles wider, back straight but legs kicking in the seat a bit. “I get that a lot,” she admits, tilting her head. Her hair is short, obviously growing back out from a buzzcut, and is already beginning to show signs of wildness. It makes Jack wonder how recently she got out of basic training.

Ana’s one step ahead of him as she asks, “When did you become a corporal?”

“Earlier this year,” Lena answers. Ana frowns, and Lena’s posture becomes nervous, looking between Ana’s own displeased face and Jack’s clearly shocked one. “They streamlined me, sir, they said because of natural aptitude. I’m far from the youngest enlisted.”

“How old are you?” Jack asks, a bit afraid of the answer. The RAF would know better than to send them a child. Cassidy was strictly kept off the battlefield and not given an official position until six months after he turned eighteen, all at Reyes’ hand. Even then, it made them all uneasy. Jack and Gabe knew too much about being selected for a special program when they were too young to understand everything that was going on behind the scenes, blinded by patriotism and the concept of being special. They were eighteen then, too.

“Eighteen, sir, as of a few months ago,” Lena replies, grin gone and face now matching the solemn feeling of the room, although she doesn’t seem to understand it. She looks as if she wants to argue for her case, prove her worthiness, tell them to give her a chance and let her show her skills, thinking they might reject her because of naivety. Neither of them doubt her skills, though, and neither does Director Petras, who all but ordered Jack to approve this girl for the Slipstream.

The rest of the interview goes normally, with Oxton thanking them effusively when Jack tells her the position is hers. Jack knows this was all orchestrated over their heads when she tells him the RAF already shipped her belongings over to Zurich. They insist on walking Oxton over to her new quarters, where her room is designated by a fresh new nameplate and a singular cardboard box on the desk inside.

“Wicked,” she says, looking around the room, and then turning back to them and saluting crisply. “I’ll do my best here, Strike-Commander, Captain!” She promises, and Jack just nods and gives her a thin smile as he and Ana walk away. It’s not until they’re in Jack’s office again does Ana speak.

“She’s younger than Fareeha when she left home, for goodness’ sake!” Ana yells, Jack sitting in the office chair and looking thoughtfully at the personnel files. Mysteriously, they only showed up when Jack had approved Oxton for the Slipstream position. Ana reads them over his shoulder, flipping the page before he finishes, making him look up at her, annoyed.

“Listen to this. Lena Oxton, age eighteen. Applied for the Royal Air Force when she was fifteen, Jack. Fifteen. Enlisted as early as she possibly could.”

Jack rubs at his eyes tiredly, already resigned to the whole situation. Petras already strong armed everyone into it, and it seems like he has the backing of the United Kingdom.

“I know that, Jack.” Was he speaking out loud? “What I’m saying is, she’s maybe not the youngest person to ever be drafted for Overwatch, she is the youngest one enlisted on base right now.” Ana frowns, sitting down on the desk across from Jack and sighing. “I just don’t like it.”

“Me neither. But it seems like it's gone above our heads, again,” Jack grumbles, running a hand through his hair again and leaning back in the chair. “Best we can do is offer a support system. Maybe introduce her to Cassidy.”

The conversation switches to a less disheartening topic, from the new recruit to old friends and their new updates. After an hour or so, Ana excuses herself to go to dinner, chiding Jack lightly and reminding him to eat. After threatening to set Angela on him, she leaves, the door shutting quietly behind her. Jack gathers up Lena Oxton’s scattered files and reviews them again, this time without Ana grabbing the papers out of his hands.

The majority of it is test results in more detail, seemingly to justify choosing Oxton over a more experienced candidate. They even included her high school transcript, which shows a fairly average student before it stops abruptly, replaced with military academy grades. It shouldn’t surprise him. The United Kingdom had increased their recruitment rates for the Omnic Crisis and continued to take on new recruits after it ended.

At the very end of the file are photos from various points of Oxton’s career. The most recent was only taken a few days ago, Oxton giving a half-smile at the camera. The oldest two are most striking, however. They seem to show a before-and-after: in the before, Lena Oxton scowls at the camera, head half-shaved and hair dyed white. The after shows her, still scowling, in a military academy uniform with a nearly-bare head. The pictures give him more insight into Oxton than any of her official records do.

Jack makes a note to himself to talk to Lena Oxton before she leaves the base for the Slipstream project.

Of course, he never gets that opportunity. It isn’t until a week after the Slipstream incident that Jack gets to read the report. One pilot missing in action. One teleportation matrix currently being searched for. The scientists note that the chances of finding the matrix are likely, due to the magnetic fields or whatever the technobabble is, but that the fate of Lena Oxton is completely unknown.

“It’s none of your concern, Commander Morrison,” Director Petras tells him over the phone. “Research and development isn’t your jurisdiction.”

Jack grits his teeth. “I understand that, Director.”

“Great. I know I don’t need to remind you that the Slipstream project is highly classified. As such, our official stance is that there was no experimental flight program, no test flights, and no missing pilots. Understand?”

Jack stays silent as he thinks. He thinks about a twenty year-old young man laying in a hospital bed in a classified military hospital. He thinks about the way the injections made him feel like he was burning from the inside out. He thinks about seeing doctors wheeling covered bodies to the morgue, whispering about another failed subject. He thinks about being told to never speak of it again.

“Of course, Director,” Jack says, and the phone line goes dead.

He hasn’t forgotten the lifeless bodies in the beds next to him. He doubts he’ll forget Lena Oxton, either.

They recover Slipstream’s flight recorder two weeks after the crash, one week after the gag order is placed. In the audio recorded by the cockpit voice recorder, Lena Oxton speaks clearly and confidently, reporting all signals normal.

“Order received,” she says, her voice tinny. “Activating teleportation matrix in fifteen seconds.” And then, almost too quiet for the recorder to pick up, Oxton says, “This ought to be fun!”

A few moments pass before Oxton speaks up again and announces the activation of the teleportation matrix. Harsh static follows, and the recording ends.

Morrison isn’t sure if the hint of a scream before the static is real or just his guilty conscience.

Lena Oxton was never a part of Overwatch, officially, so Jack Morrison has no flags to place over caskets and no next of kin to inform - not that Oxton had any, he remembers grimly.

There were no flags or ceremony for Soldier: 75, the teenager in the bed next to him who cried out in the night, whose bed was empty when Soldier: 76 woke up in the morning. Jack hadn’t even known his name. He hadn’t even thought of him for decades.

That night, when he sleeps, he dreams of the soldier enhancement program for the first time in years. In his dreams, Lena Oxton is wheeled out of Jack’s room, her still body covered by a white sheet. The doctors tell him not to think about it, tell him that the bed next to him was always empty. The doctors tell him to forget.

Ana brings it up first, when they’re sitting alone in his office. Jack has his hands folded and pressed against his face. Someone who didn’t know him would assume he was praying.

“We failed her,” Ana says. Jack doesn’t look up. “What are you going to do about it, Jack?”

“There’s nothing I can do,” Jack replies without looking up. “She accepted the position. She knew the risks. This is what happens in war.”

“I know that. It doesn’t make it any less wrong,” Ana retorts. She’s been a soldier longer than he has. There’s another long pause.

“After I had Fareeha, I fought so she wouldn’t have to,” Ana says. “I thought that she could grow up in a time of peace. I hoped that she would become something - anything besides a soldier. I failed her too.”

“Fareeha made her own decision. She knew the risks. This is what happens in war, Ana -” Jack repeats, but Ana cuts him off.

“What war, Jack? What war are we fighting?” Ana stands and moves to leave. “The Crisis is over. You and I and Gabe each have the medals to prove it. So why are our kids soldiers?” She hesitates by the door. “We failed them, Jack.”

The door slides shut behind her.

Lena Oxton doesn’t let any of them forget her.

The Slipstream’s teleportation matrix is found after months of searching, with some reclusive new signals expert named Winston apparently being the one to pinpoint its location. Within a week of its return, the scientists note chronal anomalies surrounding it and place it in an asymptotically timelike chamber in the Swiss base specially designed during the beginning of the Slipstream experiments.

Jack takes a moment to scrub at his eyes, squints at the page, and skims over the next few dozen lines of equations. He respects the scientists, but he wishes he knew how to ask them to dumb their reports down without coming across as dismissive. He flips the page and begins to skim over the paragraphs when he reads:

Upon reactivation of the chamber, the pilot previously assumed killed in action, Lena Oxton - callsign Tracer - reappeared, though she exhibited many anomalies that could not completely be contained by the chamber.

Five more pages of analysis follow. The report concludes by stating that Dr. Ziegler and the scientist from earlier, Winston, have been assigned to her case.

Jack goes back and rereads the paragraph. He rereads it again.

“Athena, where is the, ah, asymptomatic timelike chamber?” He asks out loud.

“The asymptotic time chamber is located on level 2B, wing E,” Athena replies.

Jack sprints the entire way there.

---

They make her speak at his funeral in Arlington.

He’s watching from a distance, hacked into some security livestream via drone, less than a mile from the actual thing. All the old heroes of Overwatch, the ones alive, anyways, are gathering around his grave. The sun is shining brightly. He can see Reinhardt sweating in his old Overwatch formal dress. Jack Morrison’s glad it doesn’t rain for his funeral, because it would just be another nail in the empty coffin.

Lena’s been made to speak. It makes sense that they would - the funeral is popularized by the media, with Overwatch’s downfall and the scandals that led up to the explosion, why wouldn’t it be? He wonders where she’s going after the Petras Act, the heroic law that saves the world from any other superheroes trying to do good and fucking up the planet more than it already is, goes into effect. For now, she’s still the golden child, the posterboy of Overwatch, for better or for worse. He’s read his own slander. He can’t bring himself to read anyone else’s.

“He was an excellent commander.” A goddamn lie. He couldn’t run a military company for his life. Maybe he was charismatic enough on the field, enough of a solid figure in a rapidly shifting war-torn field, to be considered for Strike-Commander, but it blew up in his face. He touches the lesions that are just starting to heal, ugly stripes breaking his facial features. Blew up in his face, alright.

Lena’s never sounded ungenuine in her life. She quips advice sometimes, to whoever she feels needs it at the moment, never sounding haughty or out of line. Even now, when she’s spouting lies that he’s sorry she believes, she has the conviction of someone announcing the sky is blue and the grass is green. “He was a mentor to me, personally, after the Slipstream Incident. I could have gone back to civilian life, but he inspired me. I wanted to make the world a better place. Jack Morrison helped me learn how it could be done.”

He tunes out. Stays on the drone’s line for hours, waiting for anyone to say anything about Gabe. He’s not sure why he cares so much. Morbid curiosity? Looking for revenge? Nothing interesting turns up until it’s late into the night, and the motion-activated camera has been off for hours. Its night vision spins on quickly, and Jack sits up, studying the footage.

There’s a small figure standing in front of his gravestone, a baggy hoodie barely concealing the light of a chronal accelerator. Lena’s changed out of her formalwear and is back in front of Jack’s grave, obviously trying to stay hidden. The drone picks up every word she says, and though he can’t see her face, the tears are obvious in her voice.

“I hate you,” Lena says, voice shaky as she lowers herself to sit on the ground. “...I don’t mean that. I hate...I don’t know what I hate. But I hate this situation, and I hate Director Petras, and,” her voice cracks, but she continues, “I hate that you’re gone.” Silence for a few more moments as she picks at the grass around his grave, then picks up the flowers someone had left there and inspects them. “You would’ve hated these,” she says. “This is an annual. One year and it’s gone.” She picks at the petals absentmindedly, voice still thick. “Y’know, I’m coming up on my first year as an active field agent. Streamlined me so fast, people seem to think I’ve been here for years. I think being new is the only thing that’s keeping me from being demonized in the news, like you.” Jack shakes his head. He deserves what they’re saying about him, and more. But he can’t tell Lena that. She drops the flower and stares ahead at the gravestone, not saying anymore for a few more minutes, just crying quietly to herself. Sometimes she starts to say something, but breaks off. It’s not until a car pulls up to the road nearby, and Angela comes out, pausing by the car door as Lena whips around to look at her.

“Listen, C’mander…” Lena begins again, standing up and tugging the hoodie firmer around herself. “I told you about my shit family and all, but, ah.” Jack watches Angela walking closer, his own throat growing tight at the words coming out of Lena’s mouth. He doesn’t want to hear them. Doesn’t want to disappoint anyone else.

She says them anyways. “In the end, I had a pretty good one. I don’t think tossing pulse bombs at me to teach me not to drop them counts as catch in the park, but what the hell would I know?” Lena shifts where she stands, digging a heel into the dirt. “For what it’s worth...I would have liked to call you dad.” The last bit comes out almost silent, almost too quiet for the drone to capture and almost too quiet for anyone but a supersoldier to hear. Angela comes up to Lena and wraps her in a hug, and Lena loses it again, crying into her shoulder.

“Oh, liebling,” she says, guiding Lena away from the gravestone after pausing for a moment at it. “Come back to the hotel room. Winston’s worried sick about you.”

Jack shuts off his connection to the drone, heading out of Arlington through the shadows.

It takes him months to locate Lena, find where she’s settling into civilian life. With the networking today, it hardly takes any time at all to pick out some perennials and have them sent to her apartment. The hardest part, he thinks, as he clicks the anonymous option, was not having them sent with the message, ‘to my daughter.’

#overwatch #soldier 76 #tracer

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