#drew this the other way around cause its easier for me and then i remembered the actual meme format

[lunavagans]

Out of the three of them, only the least humanoid one is allowed to curse.

#crossover #lies of p #lies of p gemini #honkai: star rail #boothill #hsr boothill #fanart #also some details are mirrored sorry bout that #drew this the other way around cause its easier for me and then i remembered the actual meme format #also p looks a little like an ugly duckling with his semblance of a sword next to boothills detailed gun but oh well #the original point of this post was ‚huehue two robots‘ but boothills not a robot so you get a funny chara combo instead #INDFHBCIEB hes not even out yet im gonna be so annoying when he is #lunavagans

[scoopertrouper]

If you’re still taking Stancy prompts, Nancy wondering what Steve is up to while they keep their distance in s3 is always my jam. Love love love your Nancy and Steve.

my first prompt fill!

i have to be honest, i don’t know if this is really what you were looking for? like, i admit there’s altogether more jonathan than probably anyone wants to see. but alas, i banged this out in like four hours last night and this is where my brainworm took me. thanks for prompting!

also, if you want to get a more exact idea of the kind of headspace i was in writing this, you’ll just want to listen to tswift’s death by a thousand cuts on one long, endless loop.

2,200-ish words under the cut.

-*-*-*

the only thing we share [is this small town]

She sees him sometimes. 

Not on purpose. Definitely not on purpose, but Hawkins has a population smaller than the enrollments of some state colleges. It’s kind of inevitable that their paths will cross more than occasionally.

And it’s not that Nancy's avoiding him, exactly. It’s more that every time she gets a glance at him even in passing, it’s impossible not to recall the sad way he’d stared down at her the last time they’d really spoken to each other, resigned to an outcome she wasn’t even sure she herself had reconciled with yet.

It doesn’t make her feel good, and after the past year, she’s more than sick of seeking out reasons to feel bad. 

So she doesn’t avoid him, but she also doesn’t not hide behind aisles in Melvald’s when she sees him pass by. And if they happen to be walking along the same side of Main Street at the same time, it just so happens that she’ll remember several urgent reasons why she needs to cross the road right away.

But that’s not avoiding. It can’t be, because Nancy doesn’t avoid. She barrels, head on, right into even the most fraught situations, because at the end of the day she has nothing without her resolute confidence in the fact that she is right.

She is right, and nothing – not Department of Energy hacks, nor the assholes at the Hawkins Post who make a sport of changing up their sandwich orders and the way they take their coffee every other day (“See if you can solve this, Nancy Drew…”) – can shake that certainty.

(Except sometimes – sometimes/especially when she sees Steve – a creeping sense of wrong begins to slither its way in, wraps icy tendrils of doubt around her carefully guarded resolve and squeezes. Hard.

But before it can do too much damage, before it can cause the kinds of hairline fissures that turn into cracks that end in endless interdimensional bloodshed, she turns away. Takes Jonathan’s hand, and looks into his eyes, and remembers why they’re the only two people in the world who could possibly get each other. Even when she can’t understand why he hovers in uncomfortable silence while those dickheads laugh at her. Even when he doesn’t get why she just can’t stop pushing, because a job’s a job and maybe if she let up a little they wouldn’t laugh at her so much.

None of that matters, because she and Jonathan…they just make sense. The photographer and the journalist. Shared goals. Shared trauma. Right? Right. 

And so the ground steadies beneath her feet, and her breathing eases, and she sinks back into the safe surety of her belief.)

Most of the time, not-avoiding-Steve also facilitates not-thinking-about-Steve, which is easier now that he hasn’t been around town much lately. She’d heard via the grapevine – amid some derisive tittering that had irked her for reasons she preferred not to examine – that he’d gotten a job at the ice cream parlor at Starcourt, and that he wasn’t headed to college after the summer was over, because he didn’t get into a single school, can you believe it?

The guilt was suffocating. She puts it out of her mind.

So it’s a blessing in disguise that Jonathan’s aversion to crowds and hypercommercialism means that Nancy hasn’t spent as much time at Starcourt as she’d planned to once she heard they were putting in a Gap. Because less time at Starcourt meant less time not-avoiding Steve (and less time – and money – spent stress shopping).

In fact, Nancy’s been lured into such a false sense of security that she never sees the stupid commercial coming.

It’s evening, and still boiling outside, and she and Jonathan are languishing on his beat-up couch after a long day spent toiling in the darkroom (him) and chasing down a specific kind of pastrami on rye with grain mustard available only from the sole deli in Hawkins, which just happens to be about as far across town as you can get on foot (her, of course).

Nancy is the kind of mentally exhausted that means that while she’s valiantly trying to pay attention to CBS Evening News (she likes to flip back and forth between all the major network shows), she’s actually staring off into space as Dan Rather covers a TWA flight hijacking that she knows she should care more about.

The jingle of the commercial doesn’t even penetrate the fog until Jonathan scoffs.

“Christ,” he mumbles. “They’re still playing this shit on TV?”

“Huh?” Nancy grunts before she can stop herself, rousing from her stupor. (It’s only now that she realizes she’s been doodling daisies where she usually takes careful notes on each story’s lead-in.)

“The Starcourt commercial,” Jonathan says, nudging her with his shoulder. “It’s been open for, like, a month. When’re they gonna give it a rest?” 

“Oh.” Nancy gets with the program, and laughs perfunctorily at the cheesy stock footage that’s eaten more airtime over the past six months than she’d ever thought city council would have the budget for. (Huh. Maybe there’s a story there.) “I kind of forgot about it.”

“Maybe…we could check it out soon,” Jonathan says, eyeing her almost cautiously. “See if it’s as awful as it looks.”

Nancy does a double-take before she can stop herself.

“You said it’d take a literal alien invasion to get you to set foot inside that mall.” And with the bizarro turn their lives have taken over the past year, she can’t be entirely certain he’d been joking.

Jonathan shifts, and scratches the back of his head.

“Well – they do have a bookstore,” he says, defensive. “And, like, I know this internship hasn’t been what you were hoping, so it might be nice to –” His jaw drops before he can finish the thought. “Holy shit, is that Steve Harrington?”

Nancy’s head whips around so fast she almost hears a crack. And yeah, that is Steve Harrington. In vivid technicolor, standing behind a cash register next to a vaguely familiar-looking redhead with a tousled bob – Nancy’s pretty sure she’s seen her around school before.

She recognizes the discomfort in his face all too well – it had stared across the table at her every time she’d tried to quiz him on SAT vocabulary words last summer. 

Only then, he hadn’t been wearing a hideous polyester sailor costume.

“That’s new,” Jonathan says, the ill-disguised laughter in his voice so uncharacteristic that Nancy’s head whips back around again. She’s going to need a chiropractor by the time this commercial ends. “I guess we definitely gotta check out Starcourt now.”

She rolls her eyes, and relaxes the fist she’d clenched around her pencil during the seven seconds – max – that Steve had been on screen. Jonathan doesn’t seem to have noticed her tension, and she’s grateful.

“What’s so interesting about watching Steve scoop overpriced ice cream?” she deflects skeptically, sinking further into the couch, wincing as she hits a spring. Now Jonathan’s the one who double-takes.

“Um. Nancy. It’s King Steve.” She doesn’t love the way he says that. “Dressed like a stand-in for The Village People. Slinging banana splits. What isn’t interesting about that?”

“It’s just a job,” Nancy retorts, face heating. “D’you think it’s funny that I run around buying lunch and pouring coffee for a bunch of dipshits who wouldn’t know a good above-the-fold if it hit them with a two-by-four?”

“Of course not, Jesus!” Jonathan sputters helplessly, shoulders hiking up to his ears. “I just meant – I didn’t – of course I don’t think that’s funny.” His mouth flattens. “I think it’s really shitty. You’re right, I shouldn’t make fun of anyone’s job. We don’t have to go to Starcourt. I just thought it’d be something we could do together.”

He looks deflated, and all at once, Nancy feels like shit. Jonathan was so serious all the time, and usually she liked when he let that go a little bit and dropped his guard. But she’s ruined it by getting defensive, and she doesn't even totally understand why.

“No, I’m sorry,” she backtracks, grabbing his hand and linking their fingers. It’s warm, as familiar as her own at this point. “It’s just…been a shit day. I overreacted.” She just has to work harder. Make them see how serious she is about this. Make them see how good she is at this.

All at once, she’s acutely ashamed of how lax and distracted she’s been, scrawling stupid pictures all over her notepad when she should be working. Improving her craft. Showing everyone that she belongs in that newsroom. Showing them that she’s right.

In return, Jonathan’s smile is strained, but it seems genuine enough. He squeezes her hand, with a strength that still surprises her sometimes.

“Things’ll get better. You’ll see. You’re brilliant. They’ll figure it out. Eventually.” He ducks his head, then looks up again, a little more relaxed. “Speaking of ice cream…I think Mom brought some Rocky Road home last night. Two spoons?”

Nancy nods, accepting the peace offering for what it is (even though she prefers strawberry).

“Yeah…that sounds good.” He leaves to clatter around in the kitchen, and she turns back to the TV, suppressing the urge to chew on the end of her pencil (what serious journalist walks around with bit-up erasers?).

Against her will, Steve’s face plays on a rewind loop in her mind’s eye.

Maybe it was just her imagination, but he’d looked miserable, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t stage fright (he used to preen whenever the yearbook photographers were in his general vicinity. It was equal parts endearing and annoying).

Had he really not gotten into any colleges? (None of her business.) His dad probably hadn’t taken that well. (Really none of her business.) 

She should’ve tried to help him more, after the whole…incident. He’d been insanely concussed, and that couldn’t have helped with the whole college essays and applications thing. He’d already been having a hard enough time with it all.

But what could she have done? The thing with Jonathan had been so new, and every time she chanced a look at Steve, he was already staring back, hurt scrawled plainly all over his face.

It would be better now, though, right? A lot of time has passed. She’s firmly settled into her new relationship, and Steve is – Steve knows how to rebound. He’s always been good at that, on the court and in life.

Maybe she should go visit him. Not – not to laugh at him, but just to see how he’s doing.

Would that girl be there? The coworker? She’s cute, in a “probably listens to too much Depeche Mode” kind of way. So not Steve’s type. (Nancy, why would that matter?) 

But they had been standing kind of close in the commercial. Maybe they’re friends?

Nancy snorts. Steve didn’t have female friends, except for maybe Carol, and that was mostly vis a vis that shit-for-brains Tommy. In fact, after he cut the two of them out, Steve didn’t seem to have many real friends. Or any. At all. He’d focused all his attentions on Nancy.

She swallows past the tightness in her throat. Anyway. This girl. Definitely – definitely not a friend. Maybe a friendly coworker. Or…

Nancy glares at the whites of her knuckles. None of her business. 

It really isn’t. After all, she has Jonathan, and Steve has, well…whoever he wants, really. That’s never been an issue for him, not even after he’d been officially “dethroned”. Girls still lined up at his locker for crumbs of his attention, right smack dab where Nancy used to wait for him in between classes. She assumes that in that regard, not much has changed besides the venue.

In fact, she can see it pretty clearly: Steve, raking a hand through his thick hair every time a pretty girl happens to make her way into Scoops Ahoy. Drumming deft fingers against the glass of the freezer. Handing out free scoops of ice cream like they’re not gonna eventually come out of his check.

Suggesting that they stick around until he’s off-shift so they can catch a movie or – or – something else.

The pencil snaps. Startled, she stares down at her hand, where the two jagged pieces haphazardly dangle, connected by little more than a few bare slivers of wood. What the fuck?

She’s got pretty much no time to figure out what the hell just happened, though, because Jonathan picks that moment to come back into the living room, a carton with two spoons balanced in his grip.

“Sorry that took a sec,” he apologizes, and  Nancy shoves the pencil’s remains in between the couch cushions before he can notice. “Will left eggs in the pan again, and I told him he’s gotta wash them out, like, right away or it’s a pain in the ass to scrub them off later –”

“It’s okay,” Nancy cuts in, unsettled by the stinging in her palm as he flops back down beside her. Despite the heat, he curls an arm around her shoulders. It’s light, and wiry, and she tells herself she prefers it that way.

“Dan’s kind of boring tonight,” Jonathan tuts, leaning back. “Wanna see what Tom’s up to?”

Nancy nods, curling into his side and scooping a spoonful of ice cream out of the container crammed between them. It’s creamy, and deliciously sweet on her tongue.

It’s just right.

(It has to be.)

#stancy #stancy fic #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #my stuff #prompt fill

[entropicquilibriumofchaos]

Re-Write the Ending

Veikko Alén/Aleksi Kesӓ/Baba Jakala

All's fair in love and cult sacrifices.

*A re-telling of Yötön Yö*

Thank you to the lovely @fritzmetzger for creating and sharing the bisexual lighting Yötön Yö art piece that was the inspiration for this fic! Go check out his blog if you haven't already; his art is amazing.

Read it on ao3.

“You’re fired, Kesӓ.”

Aleksi blinked in surprise, trying to digest what the man in front of him was saying. “What?” 

In all honesty, he couldn’t even remember how he had gotten to where he was. One moment he had been out, chasing a lead on one of his newest cases and the next he was here, getting fired for some reason? His face was screwed up in confusion as he stared at the man across the desk from him.

The man sighed, standing up and walking over to where the detective was sitting. He handed him a sealed letter. “You’re fired. Orders from the chief.”

Aleksi took the letter and stared at it for a second before replying. “Why?”

The other man leaned against the desk and crossed his arms. “You caused quite a stir on your last case. Uncovered some things that should’ve stayed in the dark; pissed off some people you should’ve sucked up to.” 

The detective shook his head. “You can’t- you can’t just fire me because I pissed off some corrupt officials-”

“It’s not my decision. The order came from on high, there’s no use fighting it.” The man popped off of the desk and put a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe you should go home, Aleksi. Make it easier on all of us.”

Aleksi couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes from the letter of termination. Anger swelled in his chest as he stood. His teeth ground against one another as he clenched his jaw. The paper wrinkled in his hands. 

“Maybe I will,” he said between clenched teeth.

Driving back into his hometown was surreal. The quaint main street was almost dead even with the biggest holiday of the summer on the horizon. Storefronts that had once been bustling with life were empty, their neon signs long burned out. 

The street lights blinked red as he made his way through to the small cabin on the outside town. The cabin where he had spent so much of his childhood and his teen years. 

Where he had loved; where he had lost. 

The cabin was just as he remembered it. The paint was peeling slightly and the flowers in the garden beds were wilting, but everything else was the same. The porch swing swayed gently back and forth and the windows shown bright with warm light. There was a cat out on the green grass of the front lawn, lazily sprawled out with its belly in the air as if it had no worries in the world. The thing that caught his eye though, was something that definitely wasn’t there before.

A woman sat on the porch step, watching Aleksi with an intense gaze as he pulled into the driveway. The summer breeze made her dark brown hair blow gently to one side and her white dress fluttered with the wind. Aleksi felt his heart skip a beat seeing the pretty girl that he had known once upon a time, all grown up into a beautiful woman.

He stepped out of the car cautiously. She didn’t smile at him; instead she got up and made her way over to where he stood. 

“Baba…” he whispered, taking her hand as she drew close to him. “You look- you look wonderful.”

His comment made her serious facade crack as a smile spread across her lips. “Shut up, Aleksi,” she chuckled, before wrapping her arms around him and enveloping him in a hug.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he said softly, relaxing into her arms and cradling the back of her head in his hand. 

Her voice was muffled against his shoulder when she replied. “We missed you too.” 

A shiver ran, inexplicably, down his spine as her words reached his ears.

“We missed you.”

That night was the Midsommar’s Eve dance. Baba dragged Aleksi down to the town hall. He went willingly, following her like a lost puppy. 

Once upon a time, he had been in love with Baba Jakala. When she chose Alén, Aleksi had left town, unable to live with the idea that she could never be his. But, now, thirteen years later, Veikko Alén was nowhere to be seen, and his feelings for the woman were being fanned into a flame once more. 

They swayed together to the music, Ahti’s voice dancing around the town hall in a dreamlike melody. Aleksi couldn’t help but reminisce of the times he and Baba had been in the same place, dancing to the same music, but in an entirely different time. He took in every inch of her: her legs, her torso, her chest, her neck, her arms, her face. The flowers in her hair; the way the black dress she wore fell across her hips. Everything was the same as he remembered and at the same time so different. The carefree girl that he had left in the care of the writer was gone. Baba’s green eyes held secrets now. Aleksi was determined to unravel everything that she would let him. 

“I missed you,” she said, looking into his eyes as they swayed. The context of her words wasn’t lost on Aleksi as she moved ever closer to him.

“You and Veikko were together,” he explained. He swallowed nervously, “So I left.” 

It was the truth. They both knew it. 

Finally, Baba confirmed what Aleksi had suspected since returning home. “He’s gone.” she said. Aleksi bristled slightly. “Has been for a long time now.”

The words came out of his mouth before he had the chance to think them over. 

“This time when I go, come with me,” he responded, his voice breaking the tiniest bit. His heart jumped in his chest as she smiled at him. He used his hand on her back to bring her even closer. He wanted to kiss her right here, in front of the whole town. 

A mischievous look came over her face. “But not before the morning,” she smirked. 

Aleksi blinked, her forwardness stunning him slightly as she rested her forehead against his shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a masked figure cloaked in black. The figure stared at him, its deer mask never shifting or breaking eye contact. 

When Aleksi blinked, the figure was gone. 

He thought back to Veikko. How could he just be gone? Aleksi could feel the pain in his chest; that tiny sliver of… something that he had repressed so long ago coming to surface as he thought about the writer. The thought of him disappearing had his heart beating faster than it should for the gentle sway that he and Baba had been caught up in. 

He had loved Baba, yes. He still loved Baba if he was honest with himself. 

But deep down, he had loved Veikko, too. 

The writer had always been the leader of their group. The guiding hand. It was Veikko that Aleksi had gone to when things went wrong, Veikko who would embrace him and tell him it would be alright. 

In the end, it was Veikko who had broken his heart when he had chosen Baba and not him.

Confused and slightly unnerved, Aleksi went to the one place in town where he knew he was always welcome. 

Aleksi had known Ahti since the beginning. In fact, he couldn’t remember a time that the man hadn’t been in his life. He was a staple in town, seemingly everywhere all at once. Always a friendly face when you needed it the most. And Aleksi had needed it more than he’d like to admit. 

The coffee cup in front of him steamed as the black coffee reflected the tiredness in Aleksi’s eyes. He took a slow drink, letting the liquid burn down his throat with a sigh. 

“Why return when you got away once?” Ahti asked with arms crossed. 

Aleksi shrugged as he placed his cup down. “I didn’t mean to,” he replied, “But now I find myself here. I must be cursed. I’ve been written into the story of a sadistic writer; I’m stuck in a loop.”

His words didn’t make complete sense, even to himself, as he spoke. But at the same time, they felt right coming out of his mouth. He was here because of Veikko, after all. 

Veikko is what made him leave. How far off would it be to think that Veikko had brought him back?

Ahti sighed. “Earth is a cyclical song,” he drawled before changing the topic. “How’s it going at the Federal Bureau of Control?”

Aleksi held back a smile at the old man. His memory must have been getting away from him. 

“You’ve got the wrong Bureau, I don’t work there,” he corrected, taking another sip of his coffee. “Besides, I was fired.” He tried his best not to let the bitterness in his voice leak through. A smirk crossed his lips as he finished, “You wouldn’t be in need of a janitor’s assistant?”

He thought of how different his life would be if he had chosen a different profession. Maybe he’d be far away with a family by now, having gotten over his first loves long ago. 

But he became a detective, and that brought him right back to the beginning. 

Ahti’s response was quick as he shifted in his seat, “No, the master of this farm vanished into the night years ago. Soon after you left.”

Aleksi’s eyebrows furrowed together as he recalled the conversation between him and Baba. She had said Veikko was gone, not dead, or missing, but gone. 

“Now the signs are in the air again that I too will be out of work soon,” Ahti added, bringing Aleksi out of his thoughts. “That’s why I’m asking about the Bureau, maybe I can get a job there.”

He sipped his coffee through a sugar cube in the way that many of the older residents of the town tended to. It reminded Aleksi of simpler times. Of him and Baba and Veikko sitting on the porch of Baba’s family’s cottage, watching the old folks drink their coffee and argue about things that never ended up mattering. Of Veikko making up crazy stories for them to play along with on the shore of the lake. Of the three of them, just being kids together. 

“Come,” Ahti announced, finishing his coffee and setting the saucer down. “The sauna is hot.”

The two men made their way outside and into the sauna, grabbing a few beers from the fridge one the way. The sauna was indeed hot, and Aleksi could feel the heat work into his muscles as Ahti threw a ladle of water onto the rocks. 

He sighed and took a drink of the beer. The juxtaposition of the cold liquid and the hot, steamy air made him content. As they sat, he began to think once again about Veikko. 

“Ahti,” he began, catching the older man’s attention, “What happened to Veikko anyway?”

He shook his head and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “They say that Alén reached too far into the depths of the night; couldn’t find his way back anymore.” 

Both men took a drink of their beer.

“Be careful of Alén’s black widow,” Ahti warned.

Instinctively, Aleksi bristled with the need to defend Baba, but he kept his mouth shut. 

“You had a crush on her, didn’t you?” 

Aleksi chuckled. “I was scared of her.” 

Ahti returned his smile. “Us boys used to be a bit hopeless with women,” he mused, before throwing another ladle of water onto the rocks. 

Truer words had never been said.

Aleksi was never good at staying in one place for very long. He was prone to pace, to wander, when he had nothing better to do. After leaving Ahti, he decided that maybe a good wander was what he needed to clear his head.

He was deep in his thoughts when he heard voices. A familiar sounding voice that sent chills down Aleksi’s spine.

He looked up to see Ilmari Huotari posted up against the side of a shed with his foot up on a chopping block. He was wearing a leather jacket that Aleksi recognized as his brother, Jaakkopi’s. Oddly enough, as Aleksi searched the faces of the group standing with Ilmari, he didn’t see the other Huotari brother. 

“I poked him with my knife: poke, poke, poke!” Ilmari laughed, the look in his eyes one that Aleksi knew from interrogating one too many psychopaths. “And he shat his pants.”

The group of men laughed, a couple of them passing around a flask of a liquor strong enough that Aleksi could smell it from where he stood. 

“On all fours in the ditch, drunk out of his mind,” Ilmari continued with a sick smile on his face, “sobbing for mercy, ‘Mercy! Mercy, dear brother! Mercy, I’m dying!’”

Suddenly, Aleksi understood why Jaakkopi was nowhere to be seen. 

The group of men burst out into more laughter as Ilmari shifted his position to take the flask. Aleksi approached the gang cautiously, the leaves under his feet crunching and giving away his position. 

Ilmari turned to face him slowly, the smile melting off of his face as the former detective approached. Aleksi did his best not to bow under the intense gaze of the other man.

“Check this out…” Ilmari trailed off. He screwed the cap back onto the flask from where he had been uncapping it, dropping his arms to his side as he eyed-up Aleksi. “The return of the prodigal son. And with his tail between his legs.” He looked over to the rest of the guys by the shed with a smirk. A few of them laughed maliciously.

Aleksi fought back the urge to roll his eyes. He had always preferred Jaakkopi out of the two twin brothers. 

Ilmari’s next words struck Aleksi’s core. “Did you come to beg for forgiveness?”

In an attempt to gain control of the situation, Aleksi spoke slowly and clearly. “The news of my return are premature,” he explained, “I just came to drop by. And now that I remember what goes on around here-” He paused to look at the dangerously rag-tag group of men. He smirked. “I won’t stay long.”

Against his better judgment, Aleksi decided to play into Ilmari’s psychopathy. 

“Where’s your brother hiding?” he asked knowingly. 

Ilmari smiled widely and let out a breath. Aleksi could smell the booze on it from five feet away. “I stabbed him to death,” he admitted with no remorse, as casually as one would talk about the weather. 

Aleksi couldn’t hold the smirk on his face. 

“His never-ending jabbering got on my nerves,” Ilmari said in a low, gravely voice. The air around them had shifted into something that made Aleksi’s fight-or-flight instincts flare up. “A sacrificial offering for the master. But my shit brother wasn’t even good enough for that.”

Ilmari approached Aleksi slowly, calculatingly. All playfulness had left him, leaving behind a murderous look in his eyes. The other men had stopped laughing as well, all waiting on edge for their leader’s signal to rip Aleksi to shreds. He stopped a few feet from Aleksi, raising the hand with the flask in it to point at the well-dressed man. 

“You were the master’s chosen one,” he growled, baring his teeth. He reminded Aleksi of a guard dog that had been backed into a corner with nowhere else to go. Nothing else to lose. 

Aleksi gritted his teeth together and swallowed hard.

“Never could figure out why,” Ilmari continued before taking a long drink from the flask. “I should kill you too for that.”

The sound of a knife being unsheathed drew Aleksi’s attention. He watched as Ilmari drew his weapon out from his pocket and the other men gathered theirs as well. Suddenly, Aleksi wished very much that he had just gone back to the cabin with Baba.

“The knives are out,” Ilmari announced, that damned smirk playing on his face once more, his blue eyes sparkling with murderous intent. “We’ll give you a cut throat shave, boy!”

As the gang of men began to surround Aleksi, he moved back slowly with raised hands. When it was clear that they were going to pursue him he turned and ran faster than he had ever run before. It had been years, but he had grown up here, he knew these forests. His work as a detective had kept him on his feet for the last thirteen years and adrenaline was pumping through his veins, causing his legs to carry him away from the men at a shocking speed. Maybe it was his training, or maybe it was the fact that all of the men following him were at least half drunk, but he managed to lose them. 

Something was wrong here. Something was very, very wrong.

Nighttime fell onto the woods like a smothering blanket. When Aleksi finally stopped running, he found himself at the old well that he, Baba, and Veikko used to hang around. Baba was there, sitting on the side of the well and looking down into its depths. 

“Baba!” he called, catching his breath. “Baba, we need to get out of here. Ilmari is-”

She cut him off by placing a finger to his lips. “It’s okay, Aleksi. Breathe.”

He did his best to do as she instructed, his face growing warm as she slid her hand down to his chest. Finally, once she determined that he had calmed down enough, she took her hand away. 

“A toast,” she suggested, producing a bottle of clear liquor from behind her back. 

Feeling slightly light-headed from the lack of oxygen, Aleksi smiled, sighing ever-so-slightly. “What are we drinking to?” 

Baba smirked. “The nightless night.”

She placed the bottle into his hands and he took a quick swig from it, not forgetting the strength of the liquor distilled from the water of the lake. He capped the bottle and handed it back to Baba, expecting her to take a drink as well.

The wind whispered through the trees. Aleksi swore he heard a voice on the breeze: “you came back to us”.

Instead of taking a drink herself, she uncorked the bottle and tipped it into his mouth once more. He didn’t fight her. He drank what she poured down his throat. She watched him calculating eyes as his head began to swim. His eyes crossed involuntarily and he swayed on his feet. 

The world around Aleksi seemed to fall away as the liquor traveled into his bloodstream. Much faster than it should, at that. The woods spun around them and he felt as if his skin were melting off of his skeleton. He felt relief as Baba untied his tie and began to open his shirt. The cool night air felt like heaven against his flustered skin. 

“This is the ritual to lead you on,” she whispered as he slowly blacked out.

The darkness was thick, like a syrup on the verge of crystallizing. It seemed impenetrable, even as bright flashes of light echoed from far away. Suddenly, the flashes got closer and closer until there was nothing but white light.

And then, Aleksi was in a darkened room. On the other side, in between two eye-like windows was a man, lit by a single, warm light.

He seemed to tower over Aleksi as he approached, his long, dark hair falling into his face as he looked down at the shorter man. It had been years since Aleksi had seen him, but he knew as soon as he first laid eyes on him that the man in front of him was Veikko Alén. 

He held a lamp in one hand, holding it high over the detective’s head as it cast long shadows of the two of them onto the floor. Veikko studied Aleksi with curious eyes, as if he hadn’t expected to see him. Aleksi did the same, his eyes traveling over Veikko’s body, taking him in for the first time in so long. 

Words caught in his throat as his eyes landed on the man’s chest, exposed in the slightest by his unbuttoned dress shirt. His face grew warm and he swore he saw Veikko’s lips turn into a smile. He was about to finally say something when he began to fall back, away from the writer and into the darkness once again.

Aleksi reached out for Veikko, who simply watched as the detective was swallowed by the void. 

Aleksi came to with bile in his throat. He was shirtless and on all fours, crawling in the detritus of the forest floor. His head was pounding as his arms shook with the effort it took to hold his body up. Unable to hold back his sick any longer, he vomited onto the ground in front of him. As he looked into the vomit, a single, intact mushroom covered in sickly yellow stared back at him, taunting him.

What the fuck had Baba done to him?

He struggled to his feet and wiped his mouth. The taste of vomit had mixed with the liquor that Baba had forced down his throat, making him feel even sicker than before. 

Half-naked, Aleksi stumbled forward, towards the abandoned well that sat mere feet away from him. If he could just sit down, gather his thoughts, maybe he could stop his head from spinning. But, as he approached the well, figures began to appear from the darkness of the forest.

Figures like the one from the dance. Cultists.

They all wore black robes tied with rope around their waist that made them blend into the darkness. Strange deer masks hid their faces, but they all donned necklaces that held two intertwined triangles made of gold. Cult symbols if Aleksi had ever seen them. 

The cultists surround Aleksi, who immediately backed away from them, just to be met with more behind him. Two figures grabbed his arms; their grip was bruising. 

They forced Aleksi down onto the scattered stone. He thrashed back and forth, trying his best to free himself from their grasps. He managed to get one hand free, reaching up to the sky.

‘Towards what?’ he asked himself. ‘God? There’s no God here.”

Slowly, one of the cult members knelt down next to him. The hood was thrown back, and the deer mask ripped off to reveal Ilmari Huotari. Aleksi didn’t have the energy to be shocked. For a moment, he thought the figure in front of him shifted, no longer Ilmari but Baba instead, unsheathing a large puukko. The figure flickered between the two cultists, Ilmari and Baba becoming one as the knife was raised above their head. It became fixed on Baba as she brought the knife down hard onto Aleksi’s chest. 

Pain blossomed in his chest and blood spattered across everything in the proximity. The dark red humor, a stark contrast against Baba’s pale face, against Ilmari’s unkempt beard. 

The knife kept coming down. The identity of the person wielding it never stayed the same between stabs, flashing between Baba, Ilmari, and even Veikko himself. Blood coated every face Aleksi saw, including his own as his chest was eviscerated. 

Blood filled his mouth, pouring out as Aleksi’s head turned to the side. He no longer had the strength to fight against the cultists. His vision slowly darkened as he choked on his own blood. Words floated around in his head, the voices of Baba, Ilmari, and the other cultists slowly becoming one cacophony of sound that laid Aleksi to a painful sleep.

As he shut his eyes, a blinding light filled the forest. A spotlight of white focused on the well. Aleksi’s eyes were wrenched open by an unknown force as all attention turned to the decrepit stone pit. 

Slowly, like some kind of angel.. or demon… a body began to rise out of the well. His arms were outspread as his head tilted back, relishing in the light that reflected off of his pale chest. His hair fell back, revealing Veikko’s face, his eyes closed in reverie as he floated out of the well and back down to the forest floor. 

Aleksi couldn’t tear his eyes away as he watched Baba approach Veikko. He spit up more blood, unaware of how he was still conscious with the amount of blood that he had lost and was still losing every moment that his heart continued to beat. 

Baba’s voice came as a whisper. “At last.” 

Aleksi couldn’t help the groan that left his mouth. The feeling of betrayal was just as strong as the pain that surged through his chest with every breath he took. 

“Thank you, my love,” Veikko responded in the same baritone timbre that Aleksi remembered from their youth. The voice he had fallen for. The voice that would haunt him even in death.

Suddenly, the pain in Aleksi’s chest was gone. The world had turned to darkness once more. 

He opened his eyes to find himself back in the room where he had seen Veikko the first time, but this time he was alone. He was fully clothed, his suit pristine without a single drop of blood to be found.

“It’s not a loop,” he realized. “It’s a-”

A bright light cut him off. Where the darkness had devoured him, the light enveloped him, filling every crack in his lips, every wrinkle in his skin. It seeped into his very being until there was nothing left but light.

Veikko cradled Aleksi’s body to his chest, his hand placed over the various stab wounds. Baba knelt next to him, brushing the detective’s hair out of his face, whispering her apologies through tears. 

“Come back to us, Kesӓ,” Veikko whispered, pressing his hand further into Aleksi’s chest. “Come back.”

The larger man bent down, bringing his lips to Aleksi’s gingerly. Blood seeped between the two of them, making Veikko shudder, but not deterring him in the slightest. He could feel Baba’s hand thread into his hair reassuringly. 

A gasp of air caused Veikko to retreat. Aleksi’s icy-blue eyes shot open, filled with fear, immediately locking with Veikko’s before he was crushed into his chest. The writer held him tight, arms wrapped around his body and not letting go. Another pair of arms held him as Baba embraced them both.

“I’m so sorry, Aleksi,” Baba whispered into his hair, “It was the only way to get both of you back.”

Veikko loosened his grip on Aleksi slightly, and Baba took the opportunity to slide her hand between the two and grasp Aleksi’s face gently. She wiped the blood from his lips before guiding his face to hers, kissing him passionately. They moved together in time with Veikko holding both of them close to his chest. He wasn’t going to let go anytime soon. 

Aleksi might not remember every loop they had been through, but something about being held by the two people that he loved from the beginning was enough to placate him for now. 

#no aleksi kesas were hurt (permanently) during the making of this fic #Veikko Alén/Aleksi Kesӓ/Baba Jakala #Veikko Alén/Aleksi Kesӓ #Aleksi Kesӓ/Baba Jakala #Veikko Alén/Baba Jakala #Yötön Yö #baba jakala #Veikko Alén #Aleksi Kesӓ #thomas seine #alan wake 2 #ahti #ahti the janitor #angst with a happy ending #tw blood #canon typical violence #cult of the tree #cult of the word #Veikko and Thomas are the same person? Maybe? idk i don't even understand it

[cpunkwitch]

answering my own questions

[pt: answering my own questions]

dont really get sent anything and not many people sent in the questions when the games were posted and reblogged, and i wanted to talk about stuff, so here we are.

this might end up being a multiple part post series?

ask game one (link)

(if comfortable) tell us about your condition? as much info as youre comfy with sharing.

i have a defect in the base of my spine, since i was born its caused me chronic pain all throughout my development and in recent years its only gotten worse, twisting my spine, headaches, jaw issues etc. i've also got highly suspected rheumatoid arthritis, fibromyalgia and ive been diagnosed with a pretty bad case of anemia so bad that everytime a doctor looks at my results after bloodwork they give me a pained look and say "heyy...did you know your iron is low? like...really really low?". that and a hand full of other things, vitamin deficiencies, etc. i dont mind talking more about this

2. do you know about the spoon theory? if yes, what do you think of it?

i'll be honest, the majority of my knowledge of spoon theory off the top of my head is that "drawer with limited supply of spoons" is the disabled way of saying i only have so much motivation and energy (phys, as "battery" usually refers to social and emotional) in me. i've read up on it ages ago but would not be able to put into better words what i still remember about spoon theory (esp since we had a different host back then), i like that its just so much quicker and easier to convey my amount of ability to do things for the day by saying whether or not i have the spoons for it.

i do like to joke that my drawer is always stocked with knives and forks for the ablests, but sometimes that requires spoons to handle too. /silly

3. do you have mobility aids? if yes, which ones? if no, do you want any in the future?

i've mention how i really wish i could have a wheelchair if i were in a different situation, i dont know if i'll ever get one and i almost cried when my brother responded to my joke of "would you make on for me?" with an "i would if i could", i really would like a wheelchair of some kind in the future if the world were more accessible and i were in a safer place. right now though, i've just got my cane that still needs repainting. i guess my moms back brace counts too, i take it with me to work sometimes.

4. how did you find out about cripplepunk? what drew you to the community and movement?

i dont exactly remember but i've known about it for years. i (prev host) might have come across it looking up different punk aesthetics, though im not completely sure why it showed up in a punk aesthetic list, possibly because its punk and people misinterpreted it? my first glimpse was seeing patches on jackets, spiked customized aids, cripples/phys disabled people in your classic punk attire (piercings, dyed spiked mohawks, ripped jeans and fingerless gloves) and i loved it. im a sucker for self expression through appearance and customizing things and then when i found out it was a whole community for support and centered around being physically disabled in general and slowly came to terms with my own disabled body and started accepting myself, i kinda fell in love with cripplepunk in the "this feels like home" sense.

i could probably ramble way more but i'll stop there.

5. if you deal with any kind of pain, what's your method of pain management?

i use hot packs, ice packs, voltaren cream, sometimes i take a cbd gummy, i do little stretches when i remember them, i take walks and hot baths/showers, im trying to go back to the chiropractor and my favourite instructors in rehab (theyre trans friendly and complimented my cane when i first came in with it i love them so much), and i take whatever meds i can, normally anti-inflammatory like ibuprofen but because i cant swallow pills i either take liquid (yeah, childs liquid meds works, the couple hours of mild relief is still worth it) or powdered tylenol or something. the hot/cold stuff depends on the pain and where on my body the pain is.

6. do you stand or sit in the shower or do you prefer baths/find bathing easier rather than showers?

i take baths for my muscles and during the damn monthly ouch in order to relax my body. i take showers just for my shoulders and when im feeling icky and wanna rinse off or something, i take showers on a "regular" basis and i normally stand because the only way i sit is if im crouched in the tub and if i do that i get extra dizzy standing up to get out when i turn the water off. thankfully im no longer near passing out when i take a shower but i still have to sit on the floor matt after because my legs demand rest. i gotta be careful with hot water cuz not only will it make me overheat quickly (i will not realize if in standing in blood-boiling hot water and turning myself into a cooked lobster until after im out) but it can also cause me to literally fall asleep in the bath which can go wrong.

7. do you have a sort of comfort item or safety blanket that helps you feel better, especially on the worst days?

a couple things. a few of them are stuffies/plushies, or music, games or books to help me keep my mind off it i suppose.

8. name 3 things you hate about hospitals/doctors/nurses/the medical system

a) a lot of them refuse to take people seriously or actually listen. sure maybe theyre tired or heard the same shtick before and wanna make sure this person isnt just a drug user trying to pity their way into getting more, but even then all matters a patient presents them with should still be taken seriously and never brushed off or mocked.

b) the fact that the er, the place you take a ticket and wait, is called the Emergency Room, when its normally scheduled appointments and people taken in by the ambulance that are top priority. sure its called the er because most visits through the er are rushed "emergency" last minute visits, people going there because they couldnt schedule an appointment and needed to see someone on that day, but still it feels wrong to call it the emergency room when its really just a waiting room and regardless of the visit they arent actually treated as emergencies. the whole system of just going to see a doctor feels messed up and most of the time you end up just going to see a nurse, get a check up and leave when they tell you what they got after a talk and examination or they schedule to see you again when a doctor is available. because of this i tend to prefer walk in clinics.

c) the fact that they charge to damn much, no matter if youre insured, it still charges so much. no matter what they do. and yeah, healthcare in canada is free to an extent if youre insured but a lot of times they charge more than your insurance can cover and not everyone can get/has insurance. not to mention the medical debt so many people have in america. i get that staff and hospitals need pay and funding but the government should have that covered and not have the patients charged so much for getting help. i almost got charged over 3k just for my short visit to the ward because there was an issue with my insurance and thats a whole angry story for another time.

9. whats an accessibility tool you wish was more accessible/that you had access to?

one of them is aac, the one i have on my phone i have to disconnect my phone to and has a limited amount of phrases i can pick from. id like it better if the app or just aac programs in general when directly to your device speaker by default, had more options for more ease conversing and none of them were behind a damn pay wall, in-app purchase or otherwise. i rarely use it for several reasons but i'd love if i could use it more with less limitations.

also wheelchair ramps. i dont have a wheelchair ramp but i wish people stopped walking on them when theyre clearly able-bodied, i wished my parents taught me and my siblings what the ramps were for and not to run up and down them as well as other parents to their kids because those things are supposed to be clear for a wheelchair user. i also think the corners should be rounded for ease of turning and that wheelchair accessible paths in general should be firm to the ground (not a wimpy matt on the sand that flips over and gets buried on the beach unmaintained), maintained and cleaned regularly, not have any gaps (ive seen so many of the small ones installed in doorways that have a height gap above the ground which causes trouble getting the wheelchair on the ramp let alone through the damn door) and not have railings made of metal if theyre outside (they can often reflect light into peoples eyes and get too hot to touch in the sun both of which are not good issues to have no matter how small they seem.)

those are at least the first to come to mind.

10. whats the worst accessability cockblock you've seen ableds do/make?

theres quite a few i've seen but atm nothing significant comes to mind other than overpricing mobility aids or placing paywalls in front of aids in general.

however there was the few times in more than one school i went to you had to go to the office, provide a 'valid' reason and ask them for a key to the elevator, otherwise they make you take the stairs. i know they do it because they dont want able-bodied kids messing with it n shit but its stupid, it should be accessible to everyone regardless. thank fuck both collages ive been to so far give free elevator use to any staff or student but in the schools i went to i was only allowed have the access key because i couldnt walk up the steps on my sprained/twisted ankle and i had to give it back at the end of every day. the last school even limited my use to just the morning or 1-2 periods that i had on the second floor. nevermind if my locker was up there.

11. whats an accessibility tool youre very thankful for?

screen readers. my little brother uses/used em more than me and i dont use them too often but im glad they exist in general i used them when i was younger and my english teachers gave us work on the computer, i used it like an audiobook and it helped me majorly. i hate that people dont always provide translations to things and make things harder on screen readers by using coloured, tiny, non-serif font-ed or 'quirked' text but ever since i was a kid i was just as happy they existed as i was about braille.

12. name 3 things you like about hospitals/docs/nurses/the medical system

a) that there are some people there who are actually hoping, willing and ready to listen and help others.

b) that they provide things for kids like toys in the waiting room, people who specialize in caring for kids in the hospital, some doctors even have their office decorated. one doctor i went to had her entire office winnie the pooh themed and it helped me out a lot when i got blood work done n stuff, it was really comforting to stare at pooh bear instead of the sharp pokey in my arm.

c) that things are usually kept quiet with low voices, as it reduces risk of overstimulation as well as avoids hurting anyones head and protects privacy of those talking about whats going on. voices are usually only raised to a normal talking level when in the privacy of a nurse or doctor office and its something i dont see really acknowledged anywhere.

13. do you have any favourite disability rep? (media or character)

not picking from my own sources, when it comes to physical disability rep, its hard for me to pick something that involves a realistic character because most of them arent very well portrayed or i cant personally relate to. i can list Freddy freeman as one, hes a crutch user and how the shazam movie portrayed him does well in expressing what ableism can be like for some visibly disabled kids in school. i could probably list some shows that handle disability well through other means if i thought of them, i know theres a few that handle it through super heros being disabled (the one spider-person who's got both a wheelchair and a cane from the recent spiderverse movie for example) or non-human characters having differences that are implied to be disabilities, and i adore that creativity, especially with showing disabled super heros as it tells disabled kids theyre still strong, not broken, they can still be cool and do great things just like able-bodied people. hard for me to name specific things off the top of my head though, guess i like specific tropes around disability rep more than anything. it helps normalize disability and thats what really makes me happy with it. (thats a big reason why i made @/your-fave-is-crippled)

14. least favourite/worst disability rep?

not phys disabled but sia's fucked up movie right off the bat still angers me. i cant name any specifics once again, normally if theres some rep that i dont like i purposely forget they exist to begin with, they arent worth remembering if they arent gonna do it right, y'know? id rather forget and move on than linger and rage about it if i can help it.

15. list some creators (youtubers/bloggers etc) that are disabled and/or cater to a disabled audience that you enjoy? (if any)

@crippled-pvp, @cripple-culture-is are a couple blogs i follow that i enjoy seeing on my dash (sorry if you dont want to be tagged!)

there was a deaf/hoh girl i used to frequent the content of as she talks a lot about signing and i really enjoyed her videos, shes such a sweet person but i never remembered her name nor any of the other creators i watched/followed. no one else comes to mind atm

16. favourite aspect about the general disabled community?

i like that there are people with advice at the ready, whatever question you have or info you need etc, theres always going to be someone with the words you need. i just like how helpful people can be in general in this community and how easily support is accessed through the community.

17. least favourite aspect about the general disabled community?

the fact that theres in-fighting, fake claiming, judgment, quick assumptions, and general internalized ableism still going on when we're supposed to be a community helping each other out not tearing each other down. im not just talking about the fight over "inclusion vs exclusion" on cripplepunk and other sub/separate communities in the disability community.

18. favourite aspect about cripplepunk?

i think my answer to "what drew you to cripplepunk" also answers this.

19. least favourite aspect about cripplepunk?

honestly? none. i hate the people forcing themselves into a space not meant to include them nor benefits them in the first place. i cant actually think of an issue i have with the cpunk community, only issues with people outside being upset over how "exclusive" it is because they want in.

20. free space:

feel free to ask me about any of my answers! i'll make a second post for the second ask game some other time. its currently 11pm and i have to get up early for morning classes yuck

[ID: banner reading "dni if... proship, transx/id, syscourse/discourse blog, anti-mspec lesbians/gays, anti-lesboy/turigirl more in pinned rentry. this blog is protected by the addams family, the de rolo family and co." in all black lowercase text. It has a grey cloud background. On the left is the De Rolo coat of arms with a cobweb in the top corner and symmetrically flipped on the right is the symbol of Vox Machina with the same cobweb in the bottom corner :End ID]

#cass rambles #disability blogging #actually disabled #physically disabled #cripplepunk #physical disability #cpunk #disabled #cripple punk #cpunk blog #answers

[elkenbulwark]

@wildskissed cont.

The distance between them had drifted ever near to a degree that would have usually alerted him by now to the ramifications of being perceived by a wandering gaze crossing camp. Even with the broad of his back facing the stretch of tents further in, there was no disguising the shocking hints of cherry in her hair when she shifted about before him while his own absent sways did not fully align with hers and she spilled out around his blocking attempts. If he was being honest, the odd chance that he did feel their tadpoles syncing in some unspoken magnetism that drew them as close as they'd wandered now, he was always adamant in his pursuits to muddy the waters between their mind waves again with an offhanded comment or a dismissive snort. It was far easier to ignore the litter of tadpoles fluttering in his gut when she stood ahead of him in the blurred light of his own stubborn resolve. But there she was now- sans a remark dripping with the usual poison they generously shared between what distance was usually kept. And the sight of her suddenly so clear in his mind he could actually detect the faint hint of fondness in her eyes coaxed him to stillness so that he might not stir up more verbal sediment and lose sight of it before it could convince him to wrap an uncertain pair of arms around her. Yes, he remembered those eyes-...a haughty shade of pink. They stuck with him- glassy and lifeless in another's head, but oh- how they twinkled in playful suspense when set in her's.

It was the spark of initial contact that caused his cantankerous tadpole to briefly thrash a warning as if it were considering the threat level to it's host before it settled into a series of slow spins and deep purring psionically aimed at the kin sensed before it between her eyes- the same place Birvor bumped at with his forehead. Her skin was as warm as it looked on the way down, he noticed with some wry amusement tempting his tongue to tease her about how even the tips of her ears seemed tasked with regulating the temperature in her head for its parasitic passenger.

Her action-surge of a declaration would have normally earned a stiffening of his shoulders and perhaps a fussy show of furrowed brows, and most certainly a grumpy sentiment that she very clearly just overheated her own brain to even consider following through with such a whim. But he was still instead, a half-orc's half smile still waiting with barely a twitch as her lips partially covered it with a soft and seeking press. With a light, downward bob of his head, he sought back, careful to mind his tusks as their blunt sides sunk in to pin the corners of her smile in place. A grumble of a sharp inhale followed the words spoken through the peppering of lips.

"I looks like a barkeep to ya, now?" Birvor huffed, securing an arm around her lower back shortly before the other moved carefully beneath the back of her knee where he gave a careful jerk to hike her upwards and save his neck the strain of a prolonged meeting of mouths. "-s'it really up to me 'an tell ya when- you've 'ad enough?" With the well-due snark off his chest, he leaned in to the subtle crash of her lips for a moment longer and a step or two forward with her in tow to better mask their exchange behind the nearby wall of a dilapidated shed before he pulled back just enough to part their connection with a shaky breath and a downward swivel of his gaze towards the bundle of flowers now somewhat compromised between where it was pinned between sternum and stomach.

"...did all that gath'rin work just for ya to go crushin'em like that? Figures-"

#//cuz i wanted your angst moment to be more fun ~ #wildskissed #nsft themed

[healthfitness-product5]

Quietum Plus: A Natural Solution for My Tinnitus Troubles

For years, I'd been battling a constant, irritating ringing in my ears. This tinnitus, as I learned it was called, made it difficult to concentrate, disrupted my sleep, and caused a general sense of unease. I tried various remedies – earplugs, white noise machines – but nothing provided lasting relief. Then, I discovered Quietum Plus, and let me tell you, it's been a game-changer.

Natural Ingredients, Big Results

One of the things that initially drew me to Quietum Plus was its focus on natural ingredients. The supplement boasts a blend of vitamins, minerals, and herbal extracts, all chosen for their potential benefits on ear health. This was a stark contrast to some of the medications I'd considered, which came with a laundry list of potential side effects. With Quietum Plus, I felt confident I was giving my body something that would help, not hinder, my overall well-being.

Easy to Take, Noticeable Effects

Quietum Plus comes in convenient capsule form, making it simple to incorporate into my daily routine. I take two capsules a day, once in the morning and once in the evening. Within a few weeks of consistent use, I began to notice a difference. The ringing in my ears, while not completely gone, had become significantly quieter. Conversations became easier to follow, and I found myself sleeping more soundly through the night.

More Than Just Tinnitus Relief

Beyond the noticeable improvement in my tinnitus, I've also experienced some unexpected benefits. My overall hearing seems sharper, and I feel a newfound sense of focus and mental clarity. Whether this is a direct result of Quietum Plus or a consequence of finally getting a good night's sleep, I'm not entirely sure. But one thing's for certain, I feel more in tune with the world around me.

A Word of Caution

It's important to remember that everyone's body is different. What works for me may not produce the same results for someone else. Also, as with any supplement, it's wise to consult with your doctor before starting Quietum Plus, especially if you have any underlying health conditions or are taking other medications.

Overall, a Positive Experience

However, based on my personal experience, I can wholeheartedly recommend Quietum Plus to anyone struggling with tinnitus or looking for a natural way to support their overall ear health. The combination of its natural ingredients, ease of use, and noticeable effects has made a positive impact on my life. If you're on the fence about trying Quietum Plus, I urge you to give it a go. You might just be surprised at the results.

#Quietum Plus: A Natural Solution

[sunnybubblezzz]

i love avery lynch so much

like i remember me just not being able to sort out my feeling and then FRICTION pops up? like WHAT its everything im feeling and more.

i remember the day “youre just a guy” came out. i had someone in my mind the second i saw the title. i drew a spread based around the song

dont even get me started on, “didnt show up” I WAS BAWLINGGG WHEN I FIRST LISTENED TO IT

just listening to her and realizing that i’m feeling everything she’s singing about..

NO BECAUSE IM ON HER CLOSE FRIENDS STORY AND I WANT HER TOTE BAG SO BAD LIKE SHE HELPED ME SMM I WANT TO SUPPORT

NOT TO MENTION SHE SAID SHE WOULD POST MY SKETCHBOOK SPREAD ON HER STORY WHEN I FINISH IT PLSSS IM FLOATING

okay but that’s unimportant.

idek where i was going with this.

useless information.

that song always brings tears to my eyes because ITS SO TRUE. LIKE i thought i knew sm about you.

so much things i memorized.

AND

FOR

WHAT

stopp now im crying again okay okay. its just like ughhh all those things i know about you, and its gonna be old information soon but its still there in my brain… and i wont ever use it again.

where does all the useless information go? - avery lynch

not in that way..

okay this is where it gets a lil too relatable.

“when someone’s love goes dead do we ever believe it?” I DIDNT BELIEVE IT AT FIRST i really didnt. i thought i was overthinking it but no we’ve been pulling slowing pulling back our hands cause its easier then letting go (see what i did there).

“torture ourselves till the inevitable happens.. and that always happens” AND IT ALWAYS ALWAYS DOES HAPPEN. im sad this line wouldnt fit on the paper but its SOO true. every single TIME it always ends up with this. i thought this one would be different but no its inevitable.

“it starts with doing things without them.” it really does hurt because that’s exactly how it started. when i realized you put more effort into hanging out with your other friends then you did me.. thats when i knew it was the start.

“then they start needing to remind themselves to call you every day.” we used to text everyday.. okay now im actually gonna cry.. we used to text EVERY SINGLE DAY. what happened?

“then they’re making friends with people who barely know your name” … i knew this one would happen. i knew most of her friends by name and its sad bc none of them knew me. i was never in your posts.. could we even be considered friends if barely anyone knows we are?

your making friends with people who dont even know my name. hey but atleast i got over that fact now instead of when you go away to college. i knowww that line is gonna be even harder then.

“once that happens they’ll still love you but not in that way.”.. SO TRUE. i think maybe you still like me and this song gave me the clarification i needed on that fact. you just dont love me in that way anymore.

if im being honest.

“i wonder how much more was make believe. cause you made it all feel real till you left it dead.” there is NO WAY there wasnt some of you that was just make believe because HOW in the world could our whole friendship end like that..

“just tell me if you meant it.”.. i told you i loved you. i told you how much you meant to me. i told you all that. I WROTE YOU PARAGRAPHS OF CARDS. and for what?

i didnt even get a card from you on ymy birthday. yeah now im saying this i just sound so stupid. i didnt even realize until know how much i was waiting for written words of affirmation from you until this line.

i just want you to tell me that you did love me. i want you to tell me that you loved me as much as i loved you. just TELL ME that you meant it.

“cause if im being honest i dont think you felt a thing.” this song hits HARD.

“cause i thought when you love someone its hard to walk away. “

“i really thought that you loved me.”

i really did think that you loved me. i really really really really thought. after i listened to this song and read the lyrics, i realized i wasnt being honest with myself.

you didnt feel a freaking thing.

“was your world crumbling?”

“or did it barely bend?”

“or do i even want to know a thing cause why does it matter when you did it wither way.”

your world didnt crumble. i dont even think it BENT. avery is so right. i dont even want to KNOW, CAUSE IT DOESNT MATTER YOU DID IT EITHER WAY

yes i am screaming the lyrics rn.

“why did you say that you loved me?”

you know after this line… i wondered if you DID love me. did you ever even say you did?

ughhh i really do hate myself. yeah i am looking back at the card you gave me last year. (its so funny.. you give me a card last year and not this year.. i really did not want to cry today but yeah i just hate myself.)

and now im sobbing..

ill edit this post once i start working on the rest of the friction sketchbook spread. this is the inspiration i needed for the “if im being honest” part.

[rindousberry]

❝𝐈'𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐫❞

✿featuring: mechanic!shinchiro x f!bimbo!reader.

✿synopsis: you and your mechanic finally get it on in his garage.

✿tw: cursing, shinchiro’s a meanie, fingering, car sex (sort of?), pet names, slight nipple play, slight praise and a creampie. 

✿wc: 870

✿a/n: this piece was written for @getoswhore​’s porno 2k collab!!! thank you so much for letting me take part in it, i hope i did it justice! :’) the title is supposed to be a dirty car pun idk i’m dumb???? lower caps are intended btw and i also use a lot of this symbol (;) lmao???

shinchiro’s favorite time of the day was when you stopped by his shop; with your expensive, daddy bought car and long, bright pink acrylics that never forget to trace his biceps suggestively. he had no idea how’d you get accepted into university, being the complete airhead that you were but he had the suspicion it had something to do with your filthy rich parents. 

a literal dream come true, your tits always sat so nicely in your almost non-existent tops and whenever you bent down to watch him do his work, he got the best view. it was no secret you were there to simply ogle the man, obviously, there was no way in hell that your car had gone through that many problems as often as you came over, unless you were dumb enough to cause them yourself - which shinchiro couldn’t completely dismiss; he never missed the way your eyes followed him around as he looked for the right tools to solve your imaginary vehicle mishaps. admittedly, shinchiro wasn’t less guilty; he couldn’t count the times he’d just want to grab your smaller frame and throw it over the hood so he could take you right then and there; nor the amount of times he’d come back after a long day of work and jerk off to your sweet image in the shower. 

“hey shin, what does this do?”

he didn’t realize he was staring until you turned around and your mesmerizing ass disappeared from his view. you were holding a wrench in one hand and your phone in the other, probably about to take a selfie for your large social following. god, you didn’t even know what a wrench was. he might as well finally have some fun with you today, no other costumers scheduled to come in for the next couple of hours. you turned back around with a pout, your question unanswered and put the wrench back to its place on the table. shinchiro took this opportunity and drew closer until he was right behind you. you were wearing that short jean skirt that he liked, giving him easier access. 

“shin...”

his fingers trailed up your plump thighs and you instinctively leaned into his touch, having been craving and vying for his attention for so long.

“i bet there isn’t a single thought in that little brain right now but the thought of my dick huh?”

he mused, sliding his fingers over to your panties, feeling them already wet with your slick. “didn’t take long for you to get soaked, mm?”

he pushed the soft material aside and you pushed yourself onto his crotch; feeling how hard he was, you let out a whine. he began leaving butterfly kisses on your neck while his fingers made up a steady pace, the squelching noises your pussy was making driving him absolutely crazy. 

“what if someone came in right now?” he suddenly whispered in your ear, biting down on your earlobe.                                                              “see this mess you’re making? how much of a needy slut you are, getting this dumb just from two of my fingers?”

the way he spoke to you made your insides tighten around said fingers, making him chuckle.

“y-you’re so mean shin...” you tried speaking back, gripping the table, about to reach your climax when you felt his digits leaving your still aching hole.               

“i don’t remember giving you permission to touch yourself, you impatient brat.” he thrusted into you abruptly and you were seeing stars. he reached out and lifted your top, playing with your pierced nipple, the silver chain around his neck dangling wildly, catching the fluorescent light from above.                                    

“mean huh? you’re about to see how mean i can get. lie down on the fucking car.”

he ordered, his deep voice compelling you to oblige, wobbly legs barely carrying you to the front of your car. you got on and he said, “spread ‘em.”

shaking and clenching over nothing, you spread your legs submissively as he got in between with his dick out, tip red and leaking with precum. he rubbed himself on your entrance, covering it with your slick. he was taking his time on purpose; with a trembling hand you reached down, grazing your clit, searching for relief. he slapped it away immediately.  

“you’re so fucking  - tight for me...god.” his grunts were like music to your ears, all you wanted was to please him, make him feel good and know it was all thanks to you, getting drunk off of his thick cock as it hit all your right spots. 

“go ahead and tell me how good it feels, princess.” your eyes were rolling so far back you swore you could see your skull as his cock reached your cervix, kissing it with every thrust. 

“s-so good! m’ feeling so g-good!” you yelled out, holding onto his bicep, nails digging into his flesh. his thrusts were getting sloppier, getting closer to his release and your legs automatically wrapped around his waist, locking him in place with the primal need of having his seed filling up your insides. 

“didn’t even have to ask you where you want it huh? fucking take it then.” with one last grunt, he buried himself deep inside you, his cum filling you to the brim.

he pulled out and watched it dripping out and down onto the shiny hood of your car with a proud grin.

“looks like daddy’s expensive car will be needing an extra polish. i ain’t done with you just yet, princess.”

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo rev #tokyo rev smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x reader #shinchiro sano #shinchiro sano x reader #shinchiro sano smut #shinchiro smut #shinchiro x reader #shinchiro x y/n #shinchiro x you #tokyo rev thirsts #so many tags good lord #have fun reading bimbos #<3

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Draw your swords, pt.4

Summary: In his attempt to get to know his wife, the Darkling realizes he might be getting too close.

Warnings: angst, swearing, sexual innuendoes, slightest bit of fluff

Part one // Part two // Part three   

=================================

Y/N couldn’t sleep that night. Not only did she agonize over the slightest possibility of his words being true, but the lingering of his lips on hers even hours after they’ve left tormented her mind. Instead of sleeping, she sat outside in the darkness with nothing but stars to keep her company. She shuddered with the cold wind as it chilled her, even the kefta didn’t protect her as well as she thought it would.

Sighing, she smiled up at the night sky, watching the stars in their celestial dance. It’s undeniable, she’s envious of them – their freedom is undisputed, their beauty unmatched by anything earthly. No one can force a star to marriage, no one can dull its brightness.

“Are you alright?” Genya spoke up, startling Y/N into a loud gasp.

Turning around, Y/N giggles in slight panic, a hand resting on her chest. “You scared me!”

“I didn’t mean to”, she chuckles too, coming closer to Y/N who let out a relieved sigh, only to look up once again.

“I couldn’t sleep”, she explains, “So I came here to watch the stars.”

“Most people are afraid of the dark”, Genya raised an eyebrow as she fixed her gaze on Y/N instead. She studied her carefully, unsure if she should invest all her hopes and dreams in her – no matter how striking she is.

“Oh, I’m scared of the dark!” Y/N exclaims, pointing up at the sky, “But the night sky is littered with lanterns, meant to guide you home. My mom always told me to look up whenever I feel lost, because the stars will help me find answers to any worry.”

Pursing her lips, Genya frowned, “Does that mean you doubt your plan?”

“No”, Y/N replied with haste, “I am simply trying to understand some of the chess pieces I thought I had figured out.”

Looking back at the Palace, Y/N’s eyes found the window of her room in an instant. A dark figure passed by it, the candlelight revealing the figure is pacing.

“He’s not a bad man, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Holding her breath, Y/N’s eyes find amber ones, “That’s not what I’ve heard. His deeds have spoken plenty about the strength of his character.”

“He’s fighting a war, not just with the outsiders, not just your father, but those on our side as well.” Pausing, Genya steps before her, “Do you know what they call him?”

“The Darkling”, she states, “A starless saint, a demon, a shadow king.”

“So many of those names are meant to demonize him, to shun him from society simply for the power he was born with”, licking her lips, Genya reaches for Y/N’s hand. “His own people are dying simply for who they’re born as – humans, Shu, Druskelle, they’re all sharpening their swords. If he’s not feared, we’re all dead.”

Nibbling on her lower lip, Y/N closed her eyes. Exhaling, she faced Genya once more.

“Does that mean I should applaud him for the way he’s treated the First army so far? How can you defend him when he’s the one who brought you here…to the emperor?”

Retracting her hand, Genya flashed a smile – one too strained to be believable. “He tried to defend me and got himself punished for it. So I’m here and I’m telling you to give him a chance.” Walking past Y/N, Genya stops just a few paces behind her, “He might surprise you.”

All the things Genya said became faint echoes inside Y/N’s head. When she returned to the room, she was ready for a new quarrel with Kirigan. Despite her readiness, he was sound asleep as she slipped her kefta off. With trembling fingers, she lifted the comforter only to stifle a laugh upon a surprising sight. Not only had there been a pillow to separate them, but three to ensure she wouldn’t accidentally roll on his side during the night. Perhaps she did smother him the night before and for once, she didn’t feel ashamed, rather satisfied. If he’s so insistent on sharing a bed, why would she make it any easier on him?

Tossing the pillows aside, she slid onto his side. Pressing her lips in a thin line, she tried to wrap an arm around his middle, but she couldn’t do it with her heart clenching wildly inside her chest. She drew back, forming tight fists at her side as she glared up at the canopy in frustration. If she’s going to play well and win, she’ll have to swallow her pride and withstand some discomfort.

Staring daggers at the back of his head, Y/N held her breath as she half climbed atop of Kirigan. Waiting to see if he’ll wake, Y/N finally released a shuddered breath. Burying her nose in the crook of his neck, she finally felt herself warm up after being outside for so long.

Closing her eyes, she inhaled his scent – woodsy and clean as if he had just had a bath. She never realized it before, but he smelled the same way on their wedding day…and night. But also earlier when he was pressed against her, devouring her mouth. Just the thought of his arms around her, his tall frame against her and the feverish kiss they’ve shared had caused her heartbeat to quicken with no shame.

And while she drifted off, she failed to realize something else – the Darkling was very much awake.

Instead of moving away when he felt a weight atop of him, he struggled to even his breathing. She smelled like spring, like lilacs and oddly enough, he enjoyed it. Most times, he’d crinkle his nose in disgust for strong, flowery scents made him nauseous, but she didn’t have the heavy, unbearably thick air of perfume cling to her – it felt like it’s her natural scent.

Smiling, the Darkling allowed himself to relax once her breathing calmed down and while her hands and feet felt like icicles, her cold nose brought most of the discomfort. Once she warmed up, by stealing his body heat, the Darkling began to drift away too. After all, he was winning.

A single ray of sunshine came through the window, its heat tickling Y/N’s nose. Sleepily, she brushed at it then tried to turn away, but something blocked her way. She lazily opened her eyes and saw the strange bed canopy overhead. When she remembered where she was and how she fell asleep last night, she felt her face grow hot as blood rushed to her cheeks. Even her body seemed to blush. She moved her head toward the other side of the bed and looked at where her husband’s supposed to be, yet he was gone – only the pillows she could have sworn she removed remained.

There was no way of knowing it, but each morning, the Darkling opened his eyes and looked at her first. No matter if she was drooling or her hair matted on her face, he quite enjoyed his view. She seemed gentle, almost like a saint sent to remind him light can exist along with darkness he’s been shrouded in.

Disgruntled, she sat up and huffed. She wanted to wake up at the same time as he did. One, she wanted to see his reaction and laugh, two, she really wanted to discuss the kiss from before. Then again, she just wanted to see the general at his most vulnerable state – waking up disheveled, just like any human would. His perfectly styled hair unnerved her and she couldn’t help but wonder if Genya used her power on it because she had never once seen a hair out of place, not even after their kiss.

For the rest of the day, Y/N tried to catch him alone. Unfortunately, she barely saw her husband at all. A fleeting glance of acknowledgement was all she received as they passed each other in the hall, both surrounded by others.

At night, she laid awake in hopes of speaking to him before bed. The faint candlelight on the bedside table kept the darkness away, relieving her fear. Would he laugh at her if she admitted to it? After all, isn’t he the one who can create darkness out of thin air? Perhaps he’d shroud her with it and prove he truly is cruel, but she had no way of being sure. He must never know of it and she truly hoped never to see his display of power.

Lost in her thoughts, she blinked and it was morning.

Wide eyed, she sat up and looked to his side. It was unmade, the pillow dented right where his head was and yet she can’t remember hearing him arrive in the night or leave in the morning. She never does.

“Fuck”, she mutters under her breath as she slams a fist in his pillow. Grunting, she buries her face into it, muffling her frustrated scream.

“Are you done?” Genya frowned at her, waiting by the door while Y/N screamed at the top of her lungs into a pillow.

“YOU’VE GOT TO STOP SNEAKING UP ON ME!”

Scoffing, Genya rolled her eyes. “You need to be more perceptive about your surroundings.”

A knock on the door had startled them both, enough for them to both let out a strangled scream. The door opened before either of them gave the permission and once they realized who it was that entered, they didn’t need a reason as to why.

“Ah, you’re awake.” The Darkling grinned at his wife who narrowed her eyes at him immediately.

“Your voice gives me a headache”, Y/N complains.

Squinting at her, the Darkling wondered if a woman could be so infuriating without wielding some mystic power to make her so.

“I believe you agreed to ride with me.”

“Oh”, Genya smirks, “She’ll ride you –“, covering her mouth, Genya giggles as she sees Y/N’s glare is on her, “I meant, with you.”

“I’ve prepared the horses”, he waited for her to respond, to give him reason to dislike her yet she didn’t.

“I will keep my word”, Y/N stood with her formidable gaze on his. She dared not look at his lips for they brought memories and self-loathing she’d rather avoid. After all, what kind of a woman quivers for her enemies touch?

“Wonderful”, he smirks, “I’ll wait for you to dress.”

Remaining in his spot, his hands at his sides, Kirigan raised his eyebrows as both women stared at him.

“Get out”, Y/N waves him off and he clicks his tongue.

“You may not let me touch you, but I can look.”

Angry, she narrowed her eyes at him, “That didn’t stop you from pinning me to a door.”

Genya’s eyes widen, pressing her lips to stop herself from commenting on their little exchange.

Shrugging, he stepped closer. His eyes raked over her body, the nightgown leaving little to imagination. “You didn’t seem to protest”, he leans in, “Especially since you proved you could easily escape me.”

Swallowing thickly, she exhaled through her nose. She couldn’t argue with that, now could she? If she wished, she could have forced him to unhand her. She could have fought him, but she didn’t. She may have been startled when he kissed her but she barely tried to push him away and still, when she had the option to back away, she was the one leaning in for a kiss when he lifted her onto the table. He played a game with her and she lost that day and now he gets to be smug about it.

“As your husband, I promise to protect you from all others. If anyone harms you, they’ll part with their life. For that alone, I deserve an occasional view.”

Winking, he takes a step back and sends a smile in Genya’s direction before turning on his heel and walking out.

“YOU KISSED HIM?!”

Groaning, Y/N throws her head back, “Sort of. It’s more like he kissed me and I didn’t fight him on it.”

“So, does this mean you like him?” Wiggling her eyebrows, Genya squealed in excitement. “Are you bringing him on this plan of yours?”

Holding out her hand, Y/N shook her head, “No, no and no. I don’t trust him one bit and he isn’t exactly a man who’d go along with it.” Exhaling loudly, Y/N decided, “He must be removed along with the emperor.”

When she walked outside, Y/N breath was caught in her throat. The sight of the general on a horse truly felt like a fabrication. Never had she seen a man as majestic as him, as proud and aggravatingly cocky all at once. With his black kefta and the cape, he rode on a black stallion as if he were a mere extension of his will.

She wasted no more time in mounting her white mare, chasing after the Darkling who seemed to only then notice he’s not alone.

Her horse was not above average size, but she was alert and slender-limbed. Her muscles and good nature allowed Y/N to keep up a fairly good pace, never too far behind the black stallion her husband rode. The stallion was clearly riled up, competitive by nature. Anyone else on its back would be a great danger for the rider, but he clearly trusted Kirigan.

The wind blew her hair back and the cold was rather unforgiving on her skin. Passing him narrowly once they entered the woods, she didn’t look back. Instead, she gripped the reigns tighter and continued to breathe as the cold air made her mouth dry and throat scratchy.

Feeling his gaze on her, she relents, looking back at him.

“Where’s your coat?!” He shouted after her and only then did she realize it must have fallen off. Genya made it pretty for a romantic ride, not quite as practical for a race. But that’s not what truly made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. The hint of worry laced in the words of an angry general is what betrayed him and she couldn’t help but wonder – what if it’s more than just lust for him?

“It was slowing me down”, she couldn’t suppress a victorious smile just as he couldn’t suppress an annoyed grunt. Yet they both slowed down, neither of them speaking as they turned around and headed straight to the palace.

“You’re an avid rider.” The general conceded as he dismounted. Before she could blink, he was beside her, his hands on her hips as he pulled her of the horse and effectively stole her breath away.

The rosy colored cheeks left him defenseless as he stared at her too, a little too intently for it to be innocent. Taking her hands in his, he brought them up to his mouth, blowing at them. She kept her gaze at him, undoubtedly in shock as her cold hands started to tingle with the warmth of his breath.

“I’ll have to leave for a few days”, he speaks before she has a chance. “You’ll have the bed all to yourself.”

“Don’t I have to come? If it concerns my peo –“, she began, but he silenced her.

“It’s got nothing to do with the army. I’m merely doing an errand for the emperor.”

Looking at her hands still in his, she pursed her lips. “Doesn’t he have enough servants to do his bidding?”

A breathless chuckle escapes him, “Why? Will you miss me?”

Rolling her eyes, she snorts, “Why? Do you fancy yourself as someone of importance?”

He looked at her like she's the Sun, angrily squinting at every second she spent in his presence. He never looked at her other than in frustration. At least she thought so. It’s how he looked at her a month ago when they first met on a field stained with Druskelle blood. He stood there, alone and victorious as she stepped over the bodies after arriving on this side of the fold with a Sandskiff.

All of their conversations were arguments – she’d narrow her eyes and he’s squint at her, throwing jabs at each other every chance they get, but this felt different. Something changed after the wedding and she wasn’t entirely sure what.

Achingly aware of their closeness, she couldn’t help but ask. "What is this between us?"

Pausing, he looked at her with wonder. If he could put it to words, it wouldn’t make any sense. His mind could hardly fathom what exactly she meant to him other than being a nuisance, but he didn’t exactly hate her as he believed at first when he admittedly hoped she’d find herself eaten by Volcra while crossing the Shadow fold. What he hated was not having a choice. He hated how arrogant she is and how little respect she has for her superiors. He especially hated her mortality, her species and all the atrocities they’ve committed against him and his kind.

He didn’t love her, that he was sure of. He couldn’t possibly care for her either. Lust, winning this game, feeding his ego by having Zlatan’s daughter at his feet is what he longed for. So no, he didn’t love her, but a part of him feared he might love her in time. For the first time in a very, very long time, the Darkling had a fear and it carried her name.

Perhaps that’s why he reacted the way he did when she asked him if there is something between them.

"Nothing." He grabbed the back of her neck, his lips pressing against hers hard.

He was right, she realized. There was nothing between them, nothing between their lips, not even air.

Pulling away, he smirks as she inhales sharply.

"Did you feel a connection?" He looks her in the eye, his lips set in a firm line.

"Yes", she whispers shakily.

His eyes harden as an ache in his chest reminds him of his fear. Someone like him must give up anything he could possibly love for the loss and disappointment are inevitable. She’s mortal, an enemy behind his borders he can never trust. So he will shut his heart out. Love is not an option for the Darkling, he reminds himself. The last time he allowed himself to love was also the day his heart turned to stone. So, he will not love her and she will not love him. He will destroy that possibility, cut any ties that bind them. Lust is the only thing he will let fester.

Leaning in, his lips brush hers softly as he whispers against them, "That's why you're a fool." Stepping back, he heard her gulp. “The connection you feel is lust, that’s all we have and it’s all we will ever have. Accept it.”

“Is that true or are you just afraid?!” Her voice wavers and she instinctively steps toward him, asserting dominance she felt was lost.

“General”, Ivan calls out, just in case Kirigan needed an excuse to leave.

“Afraid?” The Darkling chuckles dryly, averting his gaze to Ivan who waited for him at the entrance. “I’m not afraid of anything”, he remarks as his eyes lock on her lips again, “Certainly not of my wife.”

As he stepped back, the Darkling caught the strangest look in her eyes. It looked like clarity, total and complete sobriety from the ecstasy his presence gave her. She stood proud, despite the self-loathing in her previously warm eyes that slowly turned them back to the ice she held when she first laid her eyes on him.

=============================

Tags: @bruxa0007 @rangotangomango @kaitlyn2907 @thestoryofmylife9 @shelivesindaydreamswme @hxrgreeves @safetyhtom @kaqua @savannah-elliott @all-art-is-quite-useless  @azure23x @girlmadeofavocados @ashdab2611 @acciorudolphx @ladyblablabla @wckedheart​

Part 5  

#the darkling #the darkling x reader #shadow and bone #aleksander morozova #general kirigan #general kirigan x reader #aleksander kirigan #aleksander x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling au #the darkling fanfiction #the Darkling fic

[reidsnose]

Black Eye

overview: reader and spencer go to reader's highschool reunion as a fake couple

genre: fluff i think

warnings: mild violence and swearing, a guy being kind of a total creep, and mentions of bullying

a/n: idk if its any good again just love the idea but it was inspired by a dream i had last night (thank you temporal lobe) so yeah let me know what yall think !! :) also im posting this at like ass oclock in the morning so whoops

masterlist

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-

you and spencer had gotten yourselves in quite the situation.

your dreaded highschool reunion was just around the corner and you made the mistake of complaining about it to penelope. she was always trying to make everyones life easier (and more interesting) so when she heard you had no date she took it upon herself to find you one.

it didn't take a lot of looking, none at all actually; because Penelope had already been trying to figure out ways to get you and Reid together.

you two were undeniably perfect for each other. you were an amazing team at work, you hung out alone all the time (though both of you denied these hang out as being dates, Garcia had her own ideas on this), and you were both very obliviously head over heels for each other.

and somehow, through the magical ways of Penelope Garcia, you and Spencer were now sitting in the parking lot, fake married for your high school reunion.

"do we need to go over our back story again?" you worried, looking up at him.

"our backstory is basically all true anyway we just fall in love after a little bit. and i have an eidetic memory so i remember; you're my wife you should know this!" he joked, trying to relax you. "we got this! we're gonna be so married!"

Spencer had actually never been this nervous in his life but he was trying to be brave for you. it would be more embarrassing for you both to show up like nervous wrecks than if you had just come alone. he was just happy to get to be fake married to you.

"the marriedest!" smiled, fist bumping him.

"now lets go make some people jealous!" he chuckled getting out of the car and jogging over to your side, opening your door before you got the chance to; like a true gentleman.

you stuck out your hand which he happily took into his, neither of you commenting on the redness you both had sprinkled across your cheeks. as you walked in, you saw all the people you dreaded seeing.

the boys who tormented you were balding and the girls who made sure you felt awful everyday had wrinkles riddling there skin. you were surrounded by botched botox and bleached blonde to cover graying hair. you felt terrible to admit it, but you were a little happy to see that their beauty had faded like this; they made their looks their whole personality in high school, you couldn't help but wonder what was left for them to be. not that it mattered, but you and Spencer were undeniably the most attractive couple there.

you actually had an ok time, you had spotted a few of your friends that you hadn't seen in quite a few years and it was nice to catch up.

Spencer had wondered a bit, but not too far, he was talking to some guys who used to be in science club when you were younger. you smiled at the thought of what they might be talking about.

"y/n! hey youve really filled out!" you heard a gruff voice from behind you.

you turned around and were met with the very unappealing face of the ex quarterback. Spencers attention had been caught at the sound of your name.

"um..hello," you muttered, trying to covertly back away from him.

"i see youve got a ring, interesting i dont remember us getting married!" he said in an incredibly creepy tone.

"do you know im a federal agent now?" you said through a gritted smile.

spencer had already begun walking towards you, he could tell something was off.

"ill tell you what sweetheart," he put his hand on your shoulder, pulling you slightly closer to him, "you can put me in handcuffs any day."

you threw his hand off of you and drew back your fist, but were cut off before you could deliver the punch but his hand engulfing your own, and squeezing.

"THATS MY WIFE!" spencer yelled in a voice you had never heard from him before.in the blink of an eye he was standing between in front of him. "do not ever talk to her like that, let alone lay a finger on her or so help me God i will-"

"what beanpole? what are you gonna do? what if i did this?" the man asked.

and then he sent a swift punch to Spencer's face.

thats gonna leave a mark.

in a matter of seconds, Spencer had him overpowered, laying face first on the floor with his hands uncomfortably angled behind him, completely helpless.

"now i'm going to let you go and you're going to walk out of here unharmed. if you try anything like that again, ill let my wife handle you. and i promise if she gets a hold of you, you'll be a dead son of a bitch." Spencer muttered in the mans ear, gruffly pulling him up by his collar and shoving him towards the door.

"were leaving." you said, grabbing Spencer's hand, trying to ignore how incredibly attractive he looked right now.

"babe if you want to stay we can stay," he offered as if he didn't just have his shit kicked in by a coward with misogynistic tendencies.

"honey, i want to take you home," you smiled, liking the way it felt to call him a pet name. you walked into the parking lot, "what were you thinking?"

"i was thinking this guy is trying to hurt you and i was not going to ever let that happen." he answered confidently as you two reached the car. "plus this totally made the marriage thing more believable. i wouldn't get a black eye for just anyone."

"thank you. i'm sorry you got punched trying to protect me." you sighed, feeling incredibly awful about the whole thing.

he chuckled, "id do it again."

you fought hard against the blush creeping up your face.

"i gotta say, the black eye really suits you. you look pretty badass." you chuckled, trying to change the subject before it got too sappy and you said something you shouldn't.

"maybe it should just be my new look," he joked, looking down at a ping from his phone. "uh oh."

"we have a case?" you asked.

"yep. and hotch wants us in the office asap which means we cont stop by either of our houses." he sighed before starting the car.

the drive was mostly silent. but a comfortable silence. Spencer thought about how in the moment, he didn't care how many punches the guy threw at him, as long as it meant you were ok, he was willing to take it. he knew he loved you far before that moment but that truly solidified it.

at the same time you were thinking of how quickly your time as a 'married couple' was over. it felt so right to call Spencer yours. so unexplainably perfect for the two of you to be together. if only your time wasn't cut short by a sucker punch.

you neared the building's parking lot. you looked over at Spencer who you could very easily tell was lost in his own world.

"whats going on in that beautiful head of yours?" you asked, causing him to stifle a smile.

"just thinking." he answered.

"what about?"

"us." he stated, pulling into his parking spot.

oh. oh.

"do tell."

he hesitated, "if i tell you, and you disagree, do you promise it wont change anything about us?"

"i promise."

"did it feel right to you? us being together?" he asked, his eyes innocent and filled to the brim with a mixture of anxiety and adoration as he looked at you.

"yes. it absolutely did. and i was so mad at the assclown for cutting our time short," you admitted, "and punching you in the eye, obviously."

"i- i'm not sure how to ask this but- do you...would you..sorry i-" he stammered.

"yes."

you cut him off, pressing your lips to his. his hand gently cupped your face, deepening the kiss and you both felt like you were on cloud nine.

"thats exactly what i was trying to say," he cracked a dopey smile, causing you to chuckle.

"i've been trying to say it for so long." you confessed, causing him to smile impossibly wider, "we gotta go hotch is waiting."

"just one more kiss?" he asked, which you gave in to, obviously. and then another. and another.

maybe it was good thing that he got a black eye that day, because when you got to the office the whole team was so focused on it they didn't even notice the hint of your lipstick left on spencers lips.

-

-

ultra mega super cool taglist:

@mac99martin @imhreid @spencersmagic @hollydaisy23 @raelady1184 @a-broken-pact @padfootswife @hey-there-angels @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #reid #garcia #penelope garcia #morgan #derek morgan #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid fluff #fluff #hotch #prentiss #jj #rossi #cm #bau #bau x reader

[gernades]

invisible string 🧵

❀nace ❀ 3.3k oneshot❀ 

❀week one prompt: soulmates ❀

Nancy Drew wakes up with flower petals in her mouth. 

Coughing, she swipes a hand over her face- and comes away with a handful of forget-me-nots. 

There is no shock at the sight of the flowers, no grief. Only acceptance. 

Nancy cups the flowers in her hands. They’re crumpled and blood-stained, the red turning the fragile petals purple-blue- but she thinks they’re the most beautiful things she’s seen in a long time. 

                                             ≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

To her credit, Hannah had told Nancy that she was cursed. Neither of them had really known what the effects would be- an angry forest nymph blowing a handful of glittering spores hadn’t seemed too dangerous at the time- but certainly nothing this dire.

“Could you go over your symptoms one more time?” Hannah asks, her voice tinny and warped by the phone’s receiver. 

Nancy sighs and recites the list. “I’ve been coughing, feeling lightheaded- and coughing up flowers. Can’t forget about that.” The next sentence barely makes its way out of her unwilling mouth. “And I’ve been feeling... feelings. They’re stronger than usual.” 

“In what way?” 

Nancy grimaces and twirls a forget-me-not between her index finger and thumb. “A romantic way.” 

“Okay,” Hannah says slowly. A faint crackling sound- the sound of old paper pages being turned with the utmost care- can be heard over the line. “I think I know what this is.” 

Nancy swallows. Her throat is dry. It tickles faintly. “Am I going to die?” 

There’s a long pause. “Not if we act accordingly. This is an emotion-based curse. If there’s a person you’re romantically interested in, the time to confess would be now.” 

“Oh, okay,” Nancy says automatically. She pauses. “Wait, what?” 

“This curse seems to have originated in East Asia,” Hannah continues. “Known more commonly as hanahaki, it causes victims to cough up and vomit flowers.” 

“And I need to confess to someone to make it go away?” 

“You need to confess the person you’re in love with,” Hannah says. “Or you need to find your soulmate, fast. This curse progresses very quickly, Nancy.” 

“I can’t do that,” Nancy says immediately, chest pounding. “There’s no way. I won’t.” 

Hannah’s voice is equal parts irritated and concerned. “Nancy, you could die. The stories about the hanahaki victims written here don’t have happy endings.” 

“Then we’ll try the soulmate thing,” Nancy shoots back. She stands and starts to pace in a circle around her bedroom. “I’ll ask my friends to help- there’s got to be a ritual or soulmate spell. Do you have anything lying around in the archives?” 

“Probably,” Hannah admits grudgingly. She sighs. “It would be easier just to tell whoever it is, you know. Even if it is a little embarrassing.” 

“I can’t.” Nancy’s voice cracks on the last word. A tiny blue petal slides down her chin. Hannah is quiet. 

“Okay,” the other woman says finally. “Okay. I’ll start looking and phone you when I find something that might work. You should get your friends to search, too.” 

Nancy nods and runs a shaky hand through her hair. “Thanks, Hannah.” 

Hannah hangs up. Nancy puts her phone down and buries her face in her hands. Get your shit together, Drew. 

She allows herself to break down for ten minutes. Then she stands, grabs her car keys, and heads to the Claw. 

Nancy is in love, and she might die because of it. 

She’s had worse Sundays.

                                         ≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

“Drew, it’s a Sunday. The restaurant is closed, remember?” 

“I know,” Nancy says. None of her friends look very happy to be gathered in their place of employment at eight in the morning. “Sorry about that! I need your help. I have a-,” 

“Problem,” Bess finishes. She’s still in her pajamas- pastel pink silk. She holds up her phone. “Yes. You’ve already said that in your text message- which was incredibly vague, by the way.” 

“I haven’t had my coffee yet,” Nick complains. His eyes are half-shut with sleep. He and George are wearing matching pajamas, which would be really funny if Nancy wasn’t so worried about barfing up flowers in front of everyone.

“Sorry,” Nancy says again. “This is very serious, so-,” 

Ace stumbles through the front door. He’s half-dressed, in black sweats and a half-zipped bomber jacket that does nothing to hide the fact that he’s got no shirt on underneath. “Hi- sorry, I was just talking to Amanda.” 

George smirks. “Yeah, talking.” Ace shoots her a dirty look. 

Nancy’s chest tightens painfully. 

Bess reaches over and pokes her in the shoulder, expectant. “What’s going on?” 

Four pairs of eyes swing her way. 

Nancy straightens up, ignoring the sharp pain in her throat. “Well,” she announces, hands on her hips. “I’m dying.” 

And then she doubles over and coughs out a wave of pretty blue flowers. Nancy shudders and claps her hands over her mouth to keep them contained. 

There’s more of them, this time: they spill out of the cracks between her laced fingers and settle on the floor. 

Bess and Nick scream in unison. George unleashes a stream of curse words that, when put together, sounds like an ancient curse in some forgotten tongue. 

Ace is at Nancy’s side in an instant, face pale. 

“Okay, that-ouch- I wasn’t trying to be dramatic.” Nancy screws up her face and pulls a flower stamen out of her teeth. The whole thing is vaguely reminiscent of the seaweed wreath incident. “Sorry about that. This is part of the curse.” 

Ace wipes a petal off of her cheek. Nancy shivers. “When the hell did you get cursed?” 

Nancy smiles innocently. “Two days ago, by a very angry forest nymph?” 

George points an accusing finger at the wilted flowers on the floor. “I remember that! You said nothing bad happened!” 

“You always do this,” Ace complains. The blatant worry in his voice softens the sharp edge to his words. 

Nancy throws her hands up in the air and narrowly avoids hitting Ace’s shoulder. “A pretty lady blew glitter powder at me! It didn’t seem so bad back then!” 

“Okay, uh. Forget the pretty glitter lady. How,”- Nick gestures at Nancy, the flowers, and the five of them in one sweeping movement-, “do we fix this?” 

Nancy offers him a shaky smile. “We just need to find my soulmate?” 

“Oh,” Nick says faintly. He rubs at his temples. “Your soulmate. Of course. How silly of me for not figuring that one out.” 

Bess leans against the counter for support, eyes wide. “You’re going to die if we don’t find your soulmate?” 

Nancy nods. “It’s a curse called hanahaki. If I find my soulmate- no more flowers! If I don’t…,�� She laughs, and the sound comes out soft, uneven. “The flowers come from my lungs, so. Death, probably.” 

There’s a light touch at her shoulder. “We’ll help,” Ace promises. There’s a determined look on his face. “Don’t worry.” 

Petals tickle at the back of her throat, light and papery. Nancy closes her eyes and looks away. “Thank you.” 

Ace rubs a thumb across her arm in a motion that is meant to be reassuring. It hurts, though. It hurts more than usual, because Ace-

Nancy swallows a cough. Ace is the problem. To be more specific- her unrequited feelings for her best friend are the problem. 

Nancy is in love with Ace. Ace is in love with Amanda, and Nancy isn’t willing to become a homewrecker and ruin the best friendship she’s ever had. 

Finding her soulmate is the only option she’ll allow herself. 

“Maybe we could get her to eat some herbicide? I could put it in a smoothie.”  

George makes a face. “Bess, that is lethal to humans.” 

“I’ll start pulling stuff from the web,” Ace promises. Nancy nods and watches him run off to his car, heart heavy. 

Nick clears his throat. “There’s something you’re not telling us.” 

Nancy looks up. Nick stares down at her, brows furrowed. “Yeah,” Nancy says softly. “You’re right. But it’s not important.” 

Nick frowns. It’s clear that he doesn’t believe her. 

“Trust me,” Nancy mutters. “It’s really not.” She accepts the hand that Nick offers, allows him to pull her to her feet. “As long as we find my soulmate, it’ll be fine.” 

“If you say so,” Nick says, unconvinced. “I’m going to be pissed if you die, you know.” 

Nancy pats his arm. “Don’t worry. I’m sure that your rage will sustain me.” 

In the end, it’s Bess who makes the discovery. 

They’ve been in the restaurant all day. Books are scattered over the tables, open and tagged in brightly coloured sticky notes. Ace is typing on four different laptops at once. George is chewing on her sixth stick of gum.

Rain trickles down the windows, rhythmic and light. It makes the Claw feel warm and cozy. It would probably be cozier if Nancy’s imminent death wasn’t looming over their heads. 

“I found something,” Bess announces, waving her pen in the air. “It’s a ritual from the seventeen-hundreds. Super ancient, super weird.” 

Nancy hops off her barstool and peers over her friend's shoulder. “Oh, this looks promising.” It’s written in Old English and on older paper- the pages are cracked and yellowing, the words looping around each other in a spider-thin scrawl. “We’ll need a red string, cow’s blood, an egg with two yolks, and… sugar?” 

“You’ll have to bake it and eat it,” Bess reads. Her lip curls in disgust. “Even the string! That can’t be healthy.” 

“Dying also isn’t healthy,” George adds helpfully. She taps a finger against the cracked book. “Where the hell are we going to get an egg with two yolks?” 

Ace frowns. “I could probably find something on eBay. It would be hard to know if it's authentic, though.” 

Bess pulls out her phone and taps away at the screen. “There might be some at a curio shop or an oddity museum. The closest one is… oh, that’s a three-day drive. Never mind!” 

“Maybe,” Nick says, “We just buy a lot of eggs. And crack them.”  

The five of them all sit in silence for a moment. Nancy shrugs. “Screw it.” 

And then they go to buy some eggs. 

                                          ≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

“I really hope that we enough eggs,” George says. She’s completely surrounded by cartons of eggs; the five of them had walked into the superstore and bought all the eggs the manager had in stock. 

“Making a big cake?” The store owner had asked, amused. Nobody had laughed. 

“It should be,” Nancy says, popping open one of the cartons. “Maybe we should make a cake. Or some cookies. This feels kind of wasteful.” 

Ace pulls out an egg and cracks it into one of the bowls laid out on the table “If it keeps you alive, it’s not a waste.” The yolk slides out, sunny and single. 

Bess blinks up at Ace, brow raised. 

“Ace?” 

“Yeah?” 

“That was a really cool thing to say.” 

Ace pauses, eggshells in one hand. He looks from Bess to Nancy, a faint flush crawling across his cheeks. “Thanks?” 

“It was pretty cool,” Nancy agrees. Ace sighs and whacks another egg against the lip of the bowl. Half of the shell slides into the yolk. The tips of his ears are red. Nancy tries very hard not to find it cute, and fails.

It takes the five of them three hours and two hundred eggs to find their double yolk. 

Nick holds up his bowl triumphantly. “I found one!” 

George snatches the bowl from his hands and stares down at it, relief written across her face. “Looks about right. It’s red, too. Gross.” 

According to Hannah, Nancy will have to eat the soulmate cake right out of the oven. 

Nancy stares down at the two yolks nestled in the bowl. “That’s disgusting.” 

Nick pats her on the shoulder. “Don’t think about it too much. It’s better than dying, right?” 

“Is it?” Nancy quips. She then proceeds to hack up an entire flower, roots and all. It hurts- it feels like she’s tearing up the back of her throat with a garden rake. Her lungs burn.

 Ace hands her a glass of water, which she accepts gratefully. She takes a sip. “If this fails, you guys should sell some of these flowers at the farmer’s market.” 

There’s a rather large pile forming on the kitchen counter. 

Bess makes a noise that sounds like a deflating balloon. “We are absolutely not going to do that.” 

“We could do that,” George says thoughtfully. Nick steps on one of her feet, clearly unimpressed. “Ow, shit! I’m joking. It’s a joke.” 

Ace pinches the bridge of his nose. “Can we- can we just make the goddamn cake?” 

“Yes,” Nancy agrees, sending him a wary side-eye. “Let’s make the goddamn cake.” 

This whole scenario seems to be making Ace very tense. It’s not strange, given that he’s told Nancy on several occasions that she needs to stop doing self-sacrificing things, such as throwing herself into fires and fighting ancient evils. 

But she has stopped recklessly throwing herself to the wolves- after all the events with The Wraith, Nancy has become kinder to herself. More careful. It’s a good feeling. 

Tell Ace, her subconscious wheedles. Talk to him.  

Yes, Nancy replies snarkily. Great idea! Sorry, Ace, I’ll say. I know you have a girlfriend, but here I am! 

Nancy does not, in fact, tell Ace. She preheats the oven instead. 

                                       ≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

The cake looks weird. It’s misshapen, and grey, and there’s a very obvious red thread running through it. It smells like tomato soup for some reason. 

Nancy swallows and touches it gingerly. It’s soggy. 

“You have to eat it,” Bess orders. She crosses her arms. “Now.” 

George taps at her phone furiously. “If what Hannah says is correct, you’ll be able to see a thread connecting you to your soulmate once you eat the entire cake. I think it works like a magnet? So I’m guessing the two of you will be drawn to each other.” 

Bess sighs, eyelashes fluttering. “So romantic.” 

Ace shoots her an inscrutable look. 

“Okay,” Nancy announces. She braces herself. “Here goes nothing.” She picks up the cake and pops it into her mouth. It tastes even worse than it looks- like mud, and blood, and chalk, of all things. It makes her eyes water. She barely manages to get it down. 

George crouches next to her and pats her on the back. “Hey! You did it!” 

Nick bends down, pokes at one of Nancy’s wrists. “Where’s the thread? I don’t see anything.” The five of them watch, breathless, for the telltale red thread to appear. 

Please, Nancy silently pleads. Flowers stir deep inside her chest.  I don’t want to die. Not today. 

As if in response, something shimmers at the base of her ring finger, gold and translucent. Nancy gasps and leans in, heart running a mile a minute. “It’s here.”

 It’s not red at all- it’s a flaxen thread, thick enough to string through a guitar and play a song on. It undulates, wavers- and then it shoots outward all at once, moving with purpose. 

“I can’t see anything,” Bess complains. George grabs Nancy’s hand and flips it over, disappointment evident in the set of her jaw. Nancy stares at the thread wrapped around her finger, at a loss for words.

Nick frowns, brows drawing together. “I can’t see it, either. It guess it makes sense that the person who eats the cake is the only-,” 

“It’s gold,” Ace interjects. Nancy’s head shoots up. His voice is soft- there’s wonder saturating his words. “I thought it would be red.”  

Bess looks between Ace and Nancy, recognition dawning in her eyes. “Oh. Ohhhh.” 

George is uncharacteristically silent; Nick looks like he hasn’t decided whether to laugh or drop his head into his hands. 

The string of fate- the line that is supposed to draw Nancy to her soulmate, her other half- is wrapped firmly around Ace’s left hand. It flickers briefly before settling into a more solid form. 

A single thread of gold ties Nancy to Ace. 

There’s no mistaking it: the golden string stretches between Ace and Nancy, bowing in the middle. It hangs slack like rope, and wobbles from side to side when Nancy moves her right hand. 

“Well,” George says eventually, breaking the awkward silence with all the finesse of a bull in a china shop, “That’s cool! We’re going to leave now.” She jerks her head at Bess and Nick. They’re still staring at Ace, jaws open. “I said, we’re leaving now.” She grabs the two of them by the wrists and stomps out of the restaurant. 

“Uh,” Nancy says. She moves behind the nearest table very slowly, like she’s facing off against an apex predator with no weapons to defend herself. “I’m sure there’s been some sort of mistake.” 

Ace stares at the golden string. “I don’t think we made a mistake. The instructions were pretty clear.” 

Nancy swallows. This is it- this is where her and Ace’s friendship will end. She’s going to be personally responsible for destroying his relationship with Amanda. He’s not going to forgive her for that. “Look- I don’t- I don’t want this to make things weird for you and Amanda. It’s entirely possible that we screwed up the recipe.” 

She laughs. It is not the laugh of a sane woman. “Maybe I didn’t eat the cake fast enough- or maybe the spell just doesn’t work! I’ll fix it. I’ll go talk to Hannah, um, right now.” 

Nancy turns to bolt out the door and is stopped by two things: the golden string, pulled taut- and the warm press of Ace’s hand around her forearm. 

“Nancy,” Ace says, voice low, “look at me.” 

Nancy does not look at him. She can feel him behind her, warm and broad. It’s an odd sort of hyperawareness- a byproduct of the string, no doubt. 

Ace makes a frustrated sound. “I’m not mad, Nancy. Just- turn around? Please?” 

She turns around slowly, unwillingly. Ace’s unzipped jacket and bare chest greets her, which does not help in the slightest. 

Ace mutters something under his breath and slaps his palms lightly against her cheeks. Nancy jumps, flicks her gaze upwards. 

Ace looks back, his own gaze warm and still. Nancy relaxes minutely. “Amanda and I aren’t dating anymore,” he says. There’s an awkward lilt to his voice, a red tinge on his cheeks. “We broke up two weeks ago. I was trying to find the right time to tell you guys, but…” 

Relief rushes through Nancy, pure and unadulterated. “So I’m not a homewrecker!” 

Ace coughs out a laugh. “What? No.” 

There’s a pause. 

“How are we going to get rid of the thread?” Nancy asks. She can see the whole magnetizing-rope thing becoming a problem. Carson would ask a lot of questions if Nancy brought Ace home, the two of them literally joined at the hip- or hands, in this case. 

Ace blinks; clearly he hasn’t thought of this, either. “I’m not sure.” 

“Hm.” Nancy does her best to avoid looking him directly in the eye. 

Ace’s hands tighten around her face. “Maybe,” he says, and trails off, biting at his cheek. “Maybe we should…?” 

“Oh,” Nancy whispers, realization hitting her like a lightning strike. She’s aware of several things at once: the smell of Ace’s hair, the woodsmoke clinging to his jacket, the feeling of his fingers on her face. She knows exactly what he’s suggesting. “That wouldn’t be very good for my heart, but it’s worth a shot.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Nancy shakes her head. “I’m-no, sorry. It was nothing. I think my brain is breaking.” 

“I’m not convinced,” Ace says wryly. “That seemed pretty honest to me.” 

Nancy flushes. “I really don’t know how to convince you, then.” She thinks she can hear the golden string buzz faintly between them. 

“I can think of a few things,” Ace murmurs. There’s a heat in his eyes; something new. Something that Nancy has seen every day in the mirror for the past five months: a wanting. A longing. 

Nancy has never been good at denying herself from something that she wants. 

She throws caution to the wind and kisses him. Ace stumbles back, gasps against her mouth. He slides his hands from her face to her hips, pulls her flush against the length of his body.

Every touch is electric, glittering. If Nancy could take a bite out of a star, it would taste like mint and smoke. It would taste like Ace. She hums against his mouth, slides a hand under his shirt to touch the small of his back. He shivers; she smiles into the kiss. 

 The gold string makes a melodic, joyful noise and crumbles into dust, its mission complete. The forget-me-nots fade away, but their scent still lingers in the air, faint and sweet. 

Neither of them notice. 

#*hands on hips* #*cowboy hat on* #*grass in mouth* #yeep. these here are some nace #nace #ndcentral #nancy drew #ficlet

[dancingamongstdust]

MHA Scenarios - First Meeting (Part 4)

Requests are still open as of this post.

Shigaraki

You hadn’t meant to cause that level of destruction. It was an accident.

But they hadn’t seen it that way.

Their words followed you even when they could not. You could hear the accusations ringing in your head whenever you used your quirk – for better, or for worse. It became easier to ignore as you slowly learned to stop caring.

Until your quirk went out of control again.

You woke up in a dark room with a pounding headache and exhausted limbs. The doctor who was looking after you (a man you were relatively certain had no actual medical knowledge) had gotten very close and asked how much you remembered. When you informed him that it wasn’t much, he had smiled.

“Well, you certainly drew attention to yourself,” he had laughed. “Perhaps you should consider yourself lucky that the heroes didn’t get to you first.”

“I guess so…”

Something warned you that this situation was more dangerous than it seemed. Your eyes drifted over the covered windows of the room and you stared at the door. “Why did you help me?”

“Well that’s hardly for me –“

He didn’t get a chance to answer before you dashed for the exit. The doctor’s quirk didn’t allow him to grab you and his alarmed shout was all you heard before you were darting down the hallway. You weren’t going to stick around and get experimented on.

You turned the corner, heart pounding in your chest. They must have given you something because you felt drowsy. The entire world was spinning.

But you had to nearly trip yourself up to avoid running directly into somebody as you sprinted down a different hallway.

This was hardly your first time dealing with villains and many of them had odd quirks, to say the least. It shouldn’t have shocked you to see somebody with a human hand on their face but maybe the medication was lowering your tolerance because it was terrifying.

“Who are you?” you snapped out, immediately on the defense. You took a step away, ready to run or fight, whichever seemed easiest.

The man didn’t seem too bothered by your snap at least; the one eye that you could see watched you steadily from behind his hand mask. “I’m sure you’re not meant to be running around here,” he said. “But you’re no hero so you must be here for your quirk. Do you still have it?”

Your heart skipped a beat.

It wasn’t unknown in the underground that there was a man who stole quirks he liked. Nobody knew what he did with them but it wasn’t unheard of for villains to wake up with nothing. And you would never get them back.

You could feel your quirk was still there. It pulsed under your skin like a warning.

“My quirk?” you repeated. “I have my quirk.”

You did a random gesture, summoning all of your past acting experience to appear horrified when nothing happened. Again and again you tried before looking around in shock and horror.

The guy bought it and he shrugged. “Then there’s no reason to stop you.” He brushed past you and continued walking. “Not like you could find the exit anyway.”

The moment he turned the corner, you dropped the act and bolted again. This place was a maze but you found the exit and avoided any encounters with a practiced ease. Before leaving, you looked back up at the building and grimaced, hoping to never see it again.

Toga

It was late at night when you had the strangest encounter of your life. Not that that was a bad thing necessarily but it was something that occurred, nevertheless.

You had been feeling quite exhausted from a long day of fun with your friends. They had headed off to get a cab when you had realised that you needed the bathroom and disappeared to go find one.

There was a public toilet not too far from the street though it certainly wasn’t as clean as you would have hoped. Not to be deterred, you slipped in and found a sight that, even to your exhausted mind was uncomfortable.

A girl stood in front of one of the mirrors, blood staining much of her face. It covered the counter beneath her fingers and seemed to be coming from her lip.

“Are you okay?!” you asked, panicked.

She looked up at you, startled. Her dark hair covered much of her expression but she seemed a little out of it. Maybe she got hit on the head or something.

“I –“ she paused, her voice croaky and sore. She brought her hand up to rub her throat. “I think so.”

“Just wait, let me help you,” you said. You rushed into one of the stalls and gathered up some toilet paper. “Do you need me to call somebody or?”

“No,” she said quickly. “No. Thank you.”

You offered some of the damp tissue to her and she started wiping it away from her mouth. While she dealt with that, you cleaned the blood that she had left on the counter, making sure to get it out of all the cracks in and around the sink. “What happened to you?” you asked. “Did somebody attack you?”

“I slipped,” she said. “The tiles are really slippery and I think that I hit my mouth on the sink. It’s all kind of blurry.”

“Don’t worry,” you said, digging through your bag and grabbing some headache tablets. You offered the bottle to her. “Take two of those just in case. Even if it doesn’t hurt now, you don’t want to wake up with a headache tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Do I still have any blood on me?”

“Just on your jaw,” you pointed out. “Come on, my friends and I are getting a cab. We can call one for you also if you need.”

She took one last glance in the mirror before leaving. You had forgotten your own need for the bathroom and it was for good reason also. If you had hung around for a little longer, you may have seen blood trickling out from one of the stalls. Perhaps then you wouldn’t have been so worried about this stranger hitting her head.

“What’s your name?” you asked as you looked around for your friends.

“Toga,” the girl said, though she didn’t seem too happy with having told you. The words must have slipped out without her meaning to.

You gave her your own name and went up onto your toes to look around the crowd for your friends. Eventually you spotted them and waved but when you spoke to Toga, she didn’t respond.

She had disappeared into the crowd.

You went back into the bathroom and checked but she was long gone. Just like how the blood has escaped your notice earlier, you didn’t see the blonde watching you from the other side of the street, her head tilted a little.

Dabi

It was a rare day when you found yourself alone without at least one person to watch your back. You didn’t always need the protection but sometimes, it was nice to have.

But you had given your word and it wouldn’t do to back out of this now.

The building where everything had been organised was old and crumbling – its ancient nature hidden on the outskirts of the city and slowly becoming overtaken by countless plants. It wasn’t somewhere anybody with good intentions would find themselves.

You liked to think that your work was good. It benefitted many and took only from those who could afford to lose it. Unfortunately though, rules had to be broken for the best results, and sometimes what was classified as ‘wrong’ turned out to be needed in order to achieve a goal. It wasn’t quite in line with what you believed but it had to be done.

Did working with villains make you uncomfortable? Of course. But it was hardly going to be something that stopped you from moving forward.

The two members from the League of Villains that had been sent to meet you were both men. You didn’t bother with greetings, just holding up the briefcase that you held.

“I’m looking for a specific artwork,” you said. “I’ve been told that you might be able to help?”

“An artwork?” the one asked. He wore a white and black mask that concealed most of his face and an extremely gaudy costume.

“Not just an artwork,” you explained. “It has something of mine hidden in the canvas. Normally, I would just get the police involved but if they found it, it would be quite problematic for me. The group that stole it won’t listen to many but the League of Villains, I’m afraid. They have a few good quirks and they’re extremely cocky for it.”

“We’re not lapdogs,” the other man said. “Especially not for whatever agenda you’re pushing.”

“I don’t pay lapdogs,” you acknowledged. “Consider me a sponsor.”

Flames cackled into existence in his hand, surprising his colleague enough to jump a little. “Chances are, they’ve already found your thing. Even if they haven’t, the league can hardly go around picking fights with random gangs.”

“Shigaraki did ask –“

The masked man was cut off by a glare. Blue flames sent flickering light through the air as they waited patiently for your answer.

“If it’s already been discovered or if it happens to get damaged during the process, then I don’t plan on getting anything out of our deal. It’ll simply be a loss on my side.”

The flames slowly flickered out and you allowed yourself to breathe again. Confidence was a requirement for these deals but you didn’t quite have the nerves of steel that you portrayed. It was always a fight to keep your reactions in check.

“I guess if we happen to bump into the group, we can check around for your shit.”

You knew his bluff as well as your own. The League of Villains had always worked well with those who had money. They required funding and wouldn’t say no to being able to flex their reputation around the underground. It was almost needed with the way rumours were circulating.

It was less than a week after that encounter when you found your artwork sitting outside your home. Charred on the edges, it was damaged enough to make the art itself worthless. But your items inside were perfectly unharmed.

Not bad for your first time working alongside the League of Villains. It was worth the cost… you should do it more in the future.

Twice

When you had been called in for this job, you had no idea that it was going to turn into a fight of the magnitude you experienced.

Flames tore along the streets. They melted lamps and trapped hundreds inside buildings – the screams for help becoming almost deafening as you broke down yet another wall to get civilians out. It was the third building you had had to smash into and there were more yet.

Nobody could get out and, if they remained trapped, they wouldn’t survive much longer.

When your partner and you had realised you were dealing with the League of Villains, you had immediately called in the big guns. What you hadn’t realised was that doing so would result in a brawl of sorts in the streets. The League of Villains didn’t care about collateral and honestly, sometimes you wondered if the heroes did.

You were starting to overheat. The amount of fire swirling around was getting to you, drawing the breath from your lungs and slowing your movements. Its angry blue nature hinted at its abysmal nature.

The next building’s walls took even longer to get through but you managed it and a few people scrambled out. You ushed as best as you could although it was starting to get hard to speak.

But then you noticed a dark figure lying in one of the rooms

Outside, the fire roared and smacked against the walls but you couldn’t just leave somebody there. You stepped over the rubble and made your way to the figure.

It was hard to make out details with the flames. The heat seemed to be getting worse as you approached – soon identified as being caused by the gaping hole in the wall. It radiated around the room in waves. You covered your mouth and nose the best you could, creeping forward to reach where the person was.

When you arrived, it took you no time to recognise that you weren’t saving an unfortunate civilian but rather a member of the League itself.

You hesitated for a second before hooking your arms under his and beginning to drag him away from the danger. This was the type of thing that lost reputation for heroes. Civilians didn’t like seeing villains being rescued but you honestly didn’t care.

If he was left there, he was probably going to end up dying.

Though he had seemed unconscious, when you got him out of the building, he muttered something and moved. It was enough to make you jump back but he didn’t attack or anything. He just touched his face and then let his arm go limp again.

You moved back cautiously. His suit had been ripped on the one side, missing its arm and half of the torso. You checked his pulse, relieved to feel that it was still going, even if it was unsteady.

“Can you hear me?” you asked.

He didn’t respond and you reached up to remove his mask. His hand immediately snapped up to grab your wrist and you prepared to activate your quirk but all he did was push your arm away from his face.

Alright then. No touching the mask.

You bandaged the open wound on his side as best as you could. It looked like he had gotten launched through the building. Once he was as stable as he could be, you moved him to a safer area and jumped back into the fray. A ton of rescues later and the heroes had won, at the destruction of much property.

And, rather unsurprisingly, the villain you had saved was long gone.

Overhaul

There was a new drug running around the market. You had heard of a number of small-time villains taking it – most of them dying shortly after consumption. It wasn’t unheard of. If something had even the promise of a good time then it would attract thousands.

But what was a problem was that you had lost several of your newest underlings as a direct result of this drug.

Given how picky you were about hiring, this was going to be a problem.

You tracked the source to none other than the Shie Hassaikai. They were an old branch of the yakuza, sitting on the edge of a downward spiral into irrelevance. Rumors followed that their boss had fallen quite ill and now, it was only a matter of time until they fell completely on their faces.

So you didn’t feel too nervous when you approached the house that fronted their main base. Even with the members watching you from the bushes, you kept a straight line.

You weren’t unknown. It would do them a great disservice to attack you.

And they knew it.

You walked in the front door with absolutely no resistance and remained unsurprised when two masked men came out to greet you. They didn’t ask about your business or enquire as to who you were. Instead, they led you into a sitting room and gestured for you take a seat.

Instead of that, you walked around the room and picked up everything that looked interesting. Nothing was hidden around but you hadn’t expected there to be.

“Please don’t touch things without gloves on,” a smooth voice interrupted your curiosity. “Cleaning this entire house is rarely needed and I’d rather you didn’t change that.”

You turned around to find somebody considerably younger than you had expected for the head of the Shie Hassaikai. He wore their signature mask and a feathered coat, almost his entire body hidden in some way.

“Not a fan of germs?” you enquired.

“Not at all.”

You shrugged and made your way to the couch, sinking down into it. “Guess that means no drinks or anything? Oh well, that’s too bad.” You gestured for him to sit.  “So, you’re not who I was expecting.”

“You’ve never worked with our organisation before,” he said, sitting on the edge of the chair opposite you.

“No. You’re not in the same line of work as me and I don’t care too much about the Yakuza.”

“Then why are you here?”

You straightened, aware that you were about to get into the most dangerous part of the meeting. “Your drugs have been getting into my areas. Now, I don’t care all too much about how you distribute stock but it’s not just coming into possession of low-life criminals. My men are getting practically gifted it.”

His eyes narrowed. “We need to test it somehow. Besides, that sounds like a problem for you, no? Have better control of your men.”

“Keep your test tube shit out of my territories.”

A small staring contest took place – a test to see who would break first. You had been in almost a hundred of these over the course of your career. They didn’t bother you much at all in anymore.

Eventually he waved his hand through the air. “I guess we could stop supply to traders in your areas but this isn’t a charity.”

“I could kill your men.”

“But you would lose your own in the process. Wouldn’t it be easier to do this the peaceful way and maybe even establish a relationship between our two groups?”

“You have my attention. Don’t waste it.”

Kurogiri

There are those days when everything begins so well only to rapidly spiral into a situation out of your worst dreams. This was something like that.

You had gotten horribly caught in the crossfire of a battle between heroes and villains. It all occurred faster than you could have ever imagined – flashes of light and explosions of sound. People were screaming, the sound coming through a haze as you tried to get a grasp on what had happened.

Blood was trickling down your arm but you felt no pain. You slowly lifted your head. Something had hit you, you remembered that now as your brain caught up to the dull ache coming from your ribcage.

You tried to move, finding that you couldn’t. The ache became worse and a heavy, scraping sound interrupted your attempts to crawl away.

It was a piece of concrete, heavy and painful, pinning you effectively to the ground. A smaller chunk was holding it up and stopping you from being crushed. But if you moved too much…

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, nearly choking on the dust that filled the air. Maybe if you shifted slowly.

A crunching noise made you hiccup.

Alright, so that wasn’t going to work either. You strained your eyes to see through the carnage but you couldn’t make out any heroes. They would come eventually; you just had to wait patiently and try not to move too much.

The concrete seemed to get heavier still and you fought the desire to cry.

There was a crunching sound. You couldn’t just wait around.

Slow as you dared, you began to inch forward. The rough surface snagged at your clothing and made every centimeter feel like it was going to end with you crushed. Worse still, the more you moved, the more apparent the injury on your back became.

The blood that had been trickling down your arm was now creeping along your torso. It pooled in your clothes and made everything sticky.

You tried not to think about it but it made you light-headed regardless.

About half-way out, you spotted somebody nearby. It was just their silhouette but still, relief flooded your veins and you cried out desperately for help.

The figure made its way over to you, soon revealing that the man was almost entirely made of smoke. He wore a suit and tie but his body swirled as though only somewhat solid. Bright yellow eyes stared at you – any emotion behind them was completely unreadable.

His eyes traced your shape. “You’re not who I’m looking for.”

“Please help me. This thing’s going to crush me.”

He paused, the swirling darkness that made up his face shuddered as though it was unsure how to respond. “I should leave you here,” he mentioned. “You’re of no consequence to me or to my cause. If anything, I should add pressure to the piece of rubble and make sure the fatality numbers are higher.”

You caught of whimper before it could escape. “Please.”

His smoke shook again, almost as though he was struggling to keep hold of it. Then he raised a foot and placed it on the concrete.

You screwed your eyes shut and tried to imagine the best parts of life.

A loud horn blaring made you open them again and a surprised yelp escaped as you saw tires race past in front of you. People were shouting, their voices loud and nearby. Bright lights surrounded you and the air was clear once more.

The last thing you remembered seeing was a panicked nurse rushing over to you.

#my hero academia #mha #bnha scenarios #bnha x reader #shigaraki x reader #dabi x reader #toga x reader #twice x reader #kurogiri x reader #overhaul x reader

[rotshop]

GONNA B HONEST W/ YOU ,,,,,, i rlly dont like how this is written lmao ,,,, but also im sleepy tired so i get a pass dhmu /j

[ TW ; gore, some violence, death ]

notes ; based offa DIS ,,, u might wanna read it for some context n shit ,,, lawl ,,,

-

Between the two of you, it's hard to tell who's suffocating more. It's hard to tell if its you, with the little pants that pass by your teeth in shaky steps, hitching whenever they're cut down when you have to stop to cough up blood. It should be you, you who has your guts spilled out onto the floor and your blood staining all the concrete underneath the both of you. It has to be you, who's leaning heavy against 2b's chest and drawing unfocused circles onto his shoulder. It had to be you, you just had to go inside by yourself, you just had to be slow on the draw and nearly be ripped clean in two. It just had to go wrong with just you.

Even with all that in mind, he feels like there's nothing in him. There's no lungs to draw in breaths, no mind with clear thoughts on what to do and how to stop this once more, and certainly no heart beating steadily. In those places was instead viscera, a mangled, nameless mess of pink and red weighing him. There was some clump of pink that drew in some shaky puffs, barely reaching him as he choked on his own pride. There was nothing but tangled strings and weights in his head, making his skull pound as something in the back of his mind screamed to do something. There was a heavy weight behind his ribs that stayed put, a finality hanging over his shoulder as it always would.

He doesn't want to cry. He shouldn't be, you're the one with your innards exposed to the eyes of any and all and your face buried in the crook of his neck, it should be you who's crying in pain. He shouldn't be crying, he shouldn't be shedding tears when there's not a single bleeding wound on his skin. He shouldn't be and yet they're tight in his throat, threatening to tumble past his lips and create an embarrassment of himself. A shift brings him back from his thoughts, turning his attention back to you.

There's a little stutter in your movements, a quick pause as your vision momentarily fails you and your breath is wheezed past your lips. A quick, aimless grasp at your innards to have them follow your movements, rather than stay partially stuck to the floor, tugged further from your soon-to-be-cadaver as you readjust. You're just pulling yourself ever closer to him, little to no space left between the two of you as you support yourself on his figure. He can't help the way his own movements choke and pause as he moves his arms to wrap around you. He can't help the way he takes a sharp, shaking inhale as the skin of his arm ghosts over the start of your gash.

He remembers the first time he'd been with you in your 'final' moments. He remembers how the line had fallen dead on your side and the others all fell into a silence. They'd only told him later on why, they 'didn't want to scare him off.' He was still a little upset about it, even now. He had always been stubborn like that, it was a fact of him that you regarded with warm laughter and endearing teases.

He remembers the pure terror that'd gripped him as he came across you, choked squeaks and hisses leaving your lips as you writhed. The debris around you and the tangle of pipes and bars you'd been impaled on told the story he never bothered to ask, the one he'd never truly questioned you on even to this day. Something about the way you'd glanced at him in that moment never left him. Maybe it was how the pure agony you'd been in moments before shifted to confusion on his being there, shifted into something gentler yet still as forlorn and miserable, either way it haunted him endlessly. He remembers how you were such polar opposites after he'd managed to tear himself from his place.

The clatter of his goggles against the ground fell on deaf ears when he'd rushed for you. He barely even noticed how quick his breath was speeding up, he was far too focused on helping you, on getting you back to base so he could fix this. It'd taken your weak swipes at him and breathless pleads to just stop to snap him back, he didn't want to listen to you. He wanted to tear you from that metal and drag you back to base, he wanted to set you down and get to work, and then he wanted to grab you by the collar and ask just what was going through your head. He wanted to be mad, he wanted to argue and to let go of all the tension wracking him and making his hands shake. It was tearing him limb from limb in the worst way possible, in the one way he never wanted to feel.

He was afraid. Honest to god terrified from the moment his gaze fell on your bleeding-out form. It shook him to his core in a way he hadn't felt in forever, breaking past the facade he'd worked so hard to build in an utterly humiliating manner. He hated the way he had to clench his hands and bite his tongue as he stared down at you, his weak attempt at keeping his tears back that hung by a thin string. He hated how he fell to his knees, coming face to face with you as you looked back at him.

Your eyes were still soft with accepting misery in the moment, a weak smile finding it's way onto your lips as you reached for him. You'd struggled, finding it difficult to meet his face when the world was spinning so dizzyingly. He'd hesitated, hand shaking as it found your wrist, him leaning into your touch with an unsteady breath. If the tears weren't already hanging behind his eyes, they would've burst up with a vengeance when you started brushing your thumb over the bandages on his face.

He couldn't remember how exactly you'd spoken, how you'd been able to between the gurgle of blood in your throat and the copper piercing you, but you had. It was a request ; a final wish of sorts he didn't want to deny you. You could've asked for anything in the moment and he would've done it for you, he would tear through whoever and whatever he had to for you. He would rend flesh and ruin relationships and scar the world if he had to in that very moment. He'd never been an especially generous type, he could extend a certain amount of kindness to others but there was a limit to his softness. Yet, you managed to turn him so, managed to make him give an excuse of 'it wouldn't hurt,' or 'it's just a one time thing,' when it came to you.

Even so, you'd made such a simple request. One he would've asked you himself in other circumstances if he weren't so stubborn with what little ego he clung to. One he would've been happy to hear from you in the comfort of home and privacy. Even so, he'd nodded when you asked. Even so, he'd ignored how his own hands shook as he held his over yours gently.

It was an odd feeling, your blood seeping into his mouth, iron heavy on his tongue as his lips met yours. The taste would've been revolting under any other circumstances, making him recoil and pull away with a note to never repeat the cause. Yet, he didn't. He kept his lips against yours gently, experience slipping him in the thick anxiety of the moment. Even then, reluctance followed when he pulled away.

Content lost its footing when you'd given him once last smile, then it fell with a crash when your gaze grew glassy and unfocused. He'd never forget the panic that gripped him so tightly, enough of a disturbance to slip past his guard and make the tears start to fall. He didn't even notice them in the moment, all he saw was your corpse and the end of the compassion and emotion you'd helped him regain over time. He never asked the others if they heard him then, if they heard him plead with you, if they heard the sobs and begs he never would've given if it weren't you. He's glad they never brought it up, it was just a touch easier to forget how he'd completely broken down for the first time in a long time when you'd fallen still.

He was glad you weren't able to hear them. He's sure you would've made some dumb comment about it as you stood before him, alive and well as though nothing happened. He's sure you would've smiled and hummed a question he wouldn't answer, he's sure he would've reacted all the same. He's sure he still would have grabbed you by the collar and shoved you back against the wall, he's sure he would've still hissed at you to explain yourself, ignoring the desperation laced in his voice as his eyes began to burn again. You had an effect on him, one he wouldn't ever admit to even if you poked and prodded at it time and time again by simple virtue of you being yourself.

You were a surprisingly good kisser for someone on the brink of death once more, but you were better at it when you could count how many of him there were.

He's not sure what pulls him back as he looks down at you again, noting your still form blankly. He's not sure why he pauses for a few long moments, simply keeping his arms around you as your body grows colder and colder. He's not sure why he tucks hair behind your ear and lets his hand linger, warm by contrast against you. He's not sure when he pulls himself up off the floor, careful of your innards as he pulls you up with him.

He is however sure he feels a hell of a lot better when you sit up from your previous place on the table, hand trailing over the stitches that line your stomach and chest as you give a little hum of approval. He's sure he's smiling a little at that simple bit of praise. He's sure you'd make a comment about it if you noticed.

"Happy to see me, huh?"

He's happy to be right.

#2b x reader #2bdamned x reader #madcom x reader #madcom imagines #madness combat imagines #madness combat x reader #rot writes #oughhhh imf uckgin tired but its only 1am (head in hands)

[bestofbucky]

The Signal (1/2)

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Angst, death, blood, canon level violence, swearing.

Summary:  You go on a mission with Bucky.

A/N: Part 2 will hopefully be up sometime soon.

“You ready doll?” Bucky asked as you were nearing your drop off point. 

You nod back, not trusting your voice. No matter how many times you have had to parachute from a quinjet it will never get easier. Of course, Bucky can tell how nervous you are by the way you avoid eye contact and start tugging at the straps of your harness. He pulls your hands away replacing them with his own as he safety checks your parachute.

You know that you have done it all correctly but having him double check it is the reassurance you need. You watch him, his slightly furrowed brow and tongue poking out giving away how concentrated he is. 

He finishes his final check and looks up at you, “What are you smiling about?” He can’t stop his own grin from spreading across his face. Bucky didn’t just smile with his mouth, he smiled through the crinkles in the outer corners of his eyes, he smiled through the scrunch of his nose and he smiled through the relaxation of his whole body.

“You.” The contentment you feel, that comes from simply being near Bucky, is obvious in your body language and voice. His eyes glimmer as he leans forward pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

Bucky had joined the team about two years ago. For one of his first missions you were paired up, you worked so seamlessly together that it would be silly not to put you with each other for more missions. This resulted in the two of you becoming close friends, he trusted and confided in you and you felt the same. 

It would be normal for the two of you to be holed up together after a tough mission, looking after the other but not wanting any social interaction with anyone else. You were both extremely similar like that, tending to fall inwards but you both became experts at drawing the other one out.

It was a natural transition from friendship to romantic relationship. You had just come back from mission and you were cuddled up in Bucky’s bed watching a film. Bucky had turned to you out of the blue and asked if you wanted to go on a date with him to which you immediately agreed. The feelings were already there from the bond you had formed, it was just the physical side that was needed.

This wasn’t a difficult thing to develop for either of you. Bucky had never met someone who completely overwhelmed his thoughts and feelings as much as you did. You were always on his mind whether it was a comment Sam made that he knew you would be on the floor laughing at or a mental picture of you sleeping, the morning light making your skin glow softly. He thought you always looked like an angel but especially in those moments.

You had never met anyone who's laughter was so infectious, it had become addicting to be the one to pull those noises from him, to lose yourself in his lopsided grins and crinkled eyes. He drew you in like a butterfly to nectar. You couldn’t get enough of him. His voice, his hands, his kisses.

This mission, on paper, was a simple one. Apart from jumping out of a quinjet and landing onto a moving train, all you and Bucky had to do was stop an illegal trade. That’s it. The mission file didn’t cover who the parties involved in the deal were. From your experience, being trained at the Academy and moving up the ranks of SHIELD before finally becoming an Avenger, you know that illegal trades are normally between civilians who are in over their heads in some kind of criminal group. However, not long into the mission you realised it wasn’t simple at all.

It turns out that one of the ‘unknown parties’ is Hydra, never a good sign. The weapons they are dealing are enhanced with alien technology and they somehow knew that you and Bucky were coming. The only reason the mission didn’t get pulled is because the rest of the team was on standby, ready to step in at any moment.

In fact, the job got so complicated, so quickly, that you and Bucky found yourselves at the back of the train, severely outnumbered and being pushed closer and closer to the edge of the train where the back wall had been blown to pieces by the very weapons involved in the trade.

It was loud, the sounds of fighting were drowned out by the noises of the wheels on the tracks. The train was moving fast and the wind was whirling around the carriage meaning just one misstep could send you flying off the train and landing on the tracks below.

There was a moment when you thought you were a goner, but Bucky managed to haul you back into the carriage, putting himself between you and the edge of the train. A move that warmed your heart, knowing his history with trains was not a good one.

“I fucking hate trains.” You remember him saying when you had first got the mission brief. “Nothing good ever happens on trains.” You had laughed back then, but there was nothing funny about the situation you were in now.

The next ten seconds seemed to happen so quickly. One of the attackers yelled something in what you assumed to be German, he was holding the weapon you recognised to be the same as the one that blew out the back wall of the carriage. Next thing you knew Bucky had wrapped his arm around you and was launching you both off the train. 

Time slowed and you seemed to float mid-air as you watched the carriage go up in flames, shrapnel flying everywhere, the heat burning your eyes and forcing them closed. Then came the impact of the fall, quite luckily Bucky had managed to aim for the snow on the sides of the train tracks and not in the train tracks themselves.

Bucky immediately sits up and sends the signal for extraction, he then starts checking himself for injuries. You are lying on your side facing him, half your body concealed by the snow, the other half just poking out. His eyes travel to you as he looks over your body.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” The concern was clear in his voice.

“No, I think I’m ok.” You try to move yourself but wince slightly. “I think I landed funny though because my side hurts.” You manoeuvre yourself onto your back. As soon as you get your right side out of the snow a gasp causes you to snap your head towards Bucky who is just staring in shock at your stomach.

His eyes are wide, eyebrows slanted upwards and mouth open slightly. You know whatever it is can’t be good. Gathering up the courage to look down at your stomach, you lift up onto your forearms. Finally looking down, the sight causes bile to rise and you have to stop yourself from gagging. A piece of shrapnel about the size of an A5 piece of paper is sticking out of your side. There is so much blood around it that it is hard to tell what it is and how deep it has gone.

It’s as if looking at it made it real because the pain suddenly hits you. Out of instinct your hand flies towards the wound to try and hold it or soothe it but Bucky quickly catches your hand stopping you. It’s like a flip switched in his mind. He suddenly starts stripping off his clothing. He takes his shirt and undershirt off before putting the rest of his gear back on. He moves behind you, placing his legs either side of you and lifting your upper body carefully, so you are now leaning on him. He manages to wrap your wound, careful to go around the shrapnel to try to stop the bleeding, but not push it in anymore. He continues to do the same with as much of his clothing as he can afford to lose in the snow. He takes your left hand and puts it over the clothing, then places his hand on top, telling you to press down as hard as you can, as he does the same.

You start to feel lightheaded, the pain in your side only getting stronger.

“Stay with me doll, backup is on its way. They’ll find us.” Bucky is practically begging and you try your hardest to keep your eyes open.

“You were right.” You say after a while and Bucky gives you a puzzled look. “Nothing good ever happens on trains.” You chuckle at your own joke but quickly stop when it causes shooting pains to fly through your body.

Bucky lets out a sharp breath from his nose. “When you get through this you will be able to join my ‘I survived a fall from a train’ club.” He jokes smiling down at you.

“I can’t imagine there are very many members of that club.” You smile back at him and he laughs, you can tell he is trying to distract you but you let him anyway.

“No, at the moment it’s just me. The events the club holds are very fun though!” His eyes light up as he continues to look down at you. “We’ve had freight night, that was watching scary movies that have a train in at some point. There’s train reaction, which is like the telephone game, that one was quite difficult with one person.” He laughs at himself which makes you giggle, trying not to contract your stomach. It doesn’t work and the shooting pains are back. The smile is still clear on your face and Bucky reaches his free hand up to push a bit of hair behind your ear.

“Bucky.” You whisper to get his attention, the words you want to speak are clear in the look of longing in your eyes. 

“No, baby please I don’t want to hear you say whatever you are going to say. You fight through this and you can tell me whatever it is when you’re better.” A frown is clear on his face.

“But I-“

“Please doll. You want to tell me whatever it is so badly, then use it as a reason to fight this. To come out the other side.” You scan his face and from the crease lines in his brow and the desperation in his eyes you can tell he already knows what you want to say.

You both fall into a comfortable silence. You realise being in Bucky’s arms is probably your favourite place to be. Feeling his chest steadily rise and fall, your head gently moving with it. You feel so protected, cherished, peaceful.

That is until Bucky looks down at your stomach to see that all the clothing he tried to use to wrap the wound has been completely soaked in your blood, he visibly winces. You move your head slightly to try and get a look but Bucky uses his free hand to tilt your chin up so you are looking at him instead. He holds the eye contact as he takes his jacket off and drapes it over you, covering your wound from your sight and warming you up as much as he can.

As secretively as he could, he sent the signal out to the team. The signal only used in extreme emergencies. Three long holds. The signal to say an agent doesn’t have long left to live.

The sharp sting of the cold has faded into exhaustion as the pain retreats from your body leaving behind a numbness you have never experienced before.

“I always thought I’d be alone.” You say pensively, “I never thought about death too much. I just always assumed I’d be alone when it happened.” You were slurring your words. If you were more aware of your surroundings you would have felt Bucky tense up at your words. Looking up into his blue eyes you wondered if death would be as serene as them.

“You’re not alone. I’m here.” Bucky’s once motivational words, convincing you to hold on, shift to words intended to comfort you, to draw out the fear of your final moments and replace them with solace. You had closed your eyes, his reassuring whispers gradually fading away as he cradled you close to his chest. You wanted to be able to hear his heartbeat but all you could hear was the erratic beating of your own heart pounding in your head. 

In the far distance you felt commotion around you so you used what was left of your energy to open your eyes one final time. The sight you were greeted with sent a wave of emotion through you. Your team members, your friends, they were all gathered around you, kneeling or standing in the snow.

“My family is here.” You smile to yourself as you let the tiredness overtake you. The last thing you feel is an ice cold tear rolling down your cheek. An overwhelming sense of calm consumes your body and your worries and fears simply fade to nothingness. 

Bucky knew even before the Avengers turned up that your chances of surviving this were slim. You were bleeding out fast and it was showing no sign of slowing. It killed Bucky to know that all he could do was make you as comfortable and reassure you as much as possible in your final moments of life.

When the team got Bucky’s first signal, the plan was for just Tony to go down and retrieve you both. Then the second signal came in. They all silently agreed they would land the quinjet and all go together, maybe to say goodbye if they had enough time. If not, just to be with you when you take your last breath. They all knew that there was nothing any of them could do.

What none of them could have predicted was Helen Cho and a SHIELD team transporting the cradle from one base to another. The flight path directly over your current location. Their quinjet picked up Bucky’s radio signal and they made the choice to land to see if they could help.

Upon arrival Helen rushed straight to you, checking for signs of life, she must have felt something because she ordered for you to be put in the cradle as quickly as possible.

Bucky was frozen, no he wasn’t cold, he was a super soldier, the cold barely affected him. He was simply in a state of daze, unable to move himself to get you into the cradle. Steve could see this and swiftly took you into his arms carrying you onto the other quinjet and placing you down in the cradle. As soon as you were secure Helen was directing a team of people to all do different things. Steve stepped out of the jet, not wanting to get in the way.

No one spoke, they all had their hopes that you would be ok, but no one was particularly optimistic. 

“We’ll take her to my lab, she’s not in a good condition and this jet can only sustain the cradle for so long, we can take one or two of you in this jet with us, but feel free to follow in yours.” Helen had stepped out and as soon as she finished her sentence it was like a flip switched inside everyone.

The team made their way back onto the quinjet but Bucky hadn’t moved, he was bathed in your blood, a ring of red surrounding him a stark contrast to the blinding white of the snow. Bucky gratefully accepted Steve’s hand helping him onto his shaky legs. He looked down at where he had just been. The red crater left in the snow told the story of what had happened but Bucky still couldn’t quite believe it.

Steve’s hand on Bucky’s shoulder guided him to the quinjet you were in. He sat there staring ahead unable to do anything more, Steve stayed close by his side but knew not to push anything.

“She wanted to tell me something.” Bucky suddenly breaks the silence but his gaze stays fixed ahead. “She wanted to tell me something and I couldn’t let her finish because I wanted to stay strong for her.” Steve stays silent knowing he wasn’t finished. “I didn’t let her say anything because I knew I would have broken down in front of her.” He continues as tears start to fall from his eyes. He feels everything, guilt, regret, pain, loss, hope but at the same time feels nothing at all. His body numb and still in shock.

“What if it was her dying wish to say whatever it was and I took that away from her.” A crack in Bucky’s voice causes Steve’s heart to contract. He pulls his friend into a hug, Bucky gladly accepting the comfort.

“We both know what she was going to say Buck,” Steve takes a deep breath to try to stop himself from crying, “and we know how she is. If she thought for one second you didn’t know what she was going to say, then she wouldn’t have let you stop her from saying it.” 

Of course Bucky knew what you were going to say because he felt it too. He knew, because to kill you both only one of you actually had to die.

Taglist: @vampirewithbedsidemanners @townwitchbitch @velvetcardiganbucky

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky angst #bucky barnes #bucky imagine #marvel fanfiction #reader insert #avenger reader #bucky barnes oneshot #mcu fic #mcu #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #angst #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x agent!reader #avengers #avengers x reader #steve rogers

[bloodorangesoup]

Happy Twenty | S.R.

Summary: At the age of sixteen you and Steve made a pact that, if you were still both virgins by the age of twenty, you’d be each other’s firsts, just to get it out of the way.

Pairing: 30sPreSerum!Steve x Reader

Word Count: 8.2k I’m sorry

Warnings: NSFW 18+ | childhood friends to lovers | a lot of lead up | protected sex (obviously) | slight overstimulation | corruption kink if you squint, spin in a circle, and chant my name 3 times | innocent steve | a lot more fluff than I originally intended

Notes: Before this I had no idea condoms were a thing in the 30s. This is my first Steve one-shot and I don’t know how much I like it because it’s kinda all over the place but it is a thing. It’s also the longest one-shot I’ve ever written so bear with me. Please let me know how I did and any other Steve stuff you’d like to read! Happy reading!

The first fireworks were lit as the clock struck twelve, patriots all throughout Brooklyn not being able to wait even a second longer to celebrate the country they loved so much. The three of you had decided once again to watch the first fireworks of the Fourth from Steve’s rooftop. It was a half Independence Day celebration, half friendship tradition to kick off both of your birthday’s together.

Bucky was sitting up on your right, elbows resting on his knees. Steve laid on your left, his hands folded and resting on his stomach. You laid in between them, your arms stretched above your head. A smile graced your face as you watched the fireballs shoot up in the air and burst into color.

“Happy birthday, kiddos,” Bucky said, a cheesy grin plastered on his face.

“You’re not much older than us, punk, you’re only seventeen,” Steve scoffed back. Your smile grew, watching your two favorite boys. You dropped your left arm down to wrap around Steve’s shoulders and bring him closer to you.

“Hey,” you said facing Steve, “you’re supposed to be nice to senior citizens,” you nodded towards Bucky.

“Ah, shut up, Y/n,” Bucky laughed, you and Steve following.

Silence took over the rooftop, the three of you admiring the colors painting the night sky. Your arm was still around Steve’s shoulder; you only noticed when you turned to look at him and realized how close your faces were. He turned his head, sensing your stare. Noses almost touching, the two of you stared into each other’s eyes for a moment before you flashed him a big smile.

“Happy sixteen, Stevie,” you whispered to him, admiring the flecks of green mixed into the blue of his irises. Steve’s smile grew, he let out a little breath of laughter.

“Happy sixteen, Y/n.” You glanced over his face one more time before looking back up at the fireworks, not wanting to miss the rest of the show.

Steve stayed facing you, taking in the rare moment he could stare at you in all your beauty. He shouldn’t have had a crush on you, you were his best friend, but he chalked it up to you being one of the only girls that ever gave him the time of day. His eyes drew down your eyebrows, remembering how excited you had been when your mom had finally let you start plucking them, to your eyes and they way they crinkled at the corners as you beamed at the sky. Every time a new firework would go off he would watch as the blues, greens, and pinks highlighted your cheekbones. He didn’t even realize he was staring until a gum wrapper hit him in the face. Looking up at the direction it came from, he met Bucky’s knowing look, one eyebrow up and a smirk. Steve just shook his head and looked back up at the sky.

Around one o’clock, Bucky had to walk back home. The three of you slowly walked your way down to the door of Steve’s apartment, stalling to prolong your time together.

“Alright, I really gotta get going now. Mom’s gonna whoop me if I’m not home by two,” Bucky said, putting his hands on yours and Steve’s shoulders before bringing you two in for a hug, “happy birthday, idiots.”

“Bye, Bucky,” you rolled your eyes.

As Bucky walked off, Steve unlocked his door and motioned for you to come in. Another birthday tradition you two had begun was to have a sleepover the night before. You would never tell Steve, but the only reason your parents were okay with it was because they figured they would never have to worry about Steve making a move on you. You hung up your coat and immediately made your way to the radio, a gift Steve had received the year before. Spinning the dial through the channels, you landed on one that had slow jazz music playing.

Steve got two cokes from the icebox and set them down on the small coffee table in the center of the living room. You sat on the floor across the table from him, setting up the checkerboard on it.

“Wish Bucky could’ve stayed this year with us. You know the only reason his mom gives him a curfew now ‘s cause he spent the whole night out with a girl last month?” Steve said as he moved his first piece forward.

“Big trouble for a date? Why’d he do a stupid thing like that?” You moved your first piece.

“He said he was this close to losing it,” Steve pinched his fingers together, “said he got his hand up her skirt though. Can you believe it? He’s only seventeen and he’s already almost lost his virginity,” Steve shook his head and sighed exasperatedly as you both made your moves.

You scanned the board, trying to find a safe spot, “You know, honestly, a lot of boys our age are starting to talk about that now, even some of the girls. Is it such a crazy idea?” You moved your piece.

“Maybe not for you guys. Girls tend to do anything to stay away from me,” Steve said with a disappointed sigh.

“Hey, it’s not that bad. And what do you mean ‘you guys’? It’s not like I’m one of the prettier girls or have any boys coming up to me at school or any of the dance halls, I haven’t even had my first kiss yet!” The both of you had stopped looking at the board.

“Neither have I,” Steve shot back immediately.

The air stilled, you and Steve looked at each other, thinking the same thing but not wanting to be the first to say it.

“Stevie?” you snapped him out of his head. He cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows at you, telling you to go on. “Maybe these things would be easier if we just got it over with, y’know?” You hoped he was understanding where you were going with this, not wanting to have to explain and face his surprise.

“Yeah, I mean yes, I guess it’d be easier,” he mumbled, avoiding your eyes.

“Steve?” You said again, firmer this time. His head snapped up, eyes meeting yours. “Would you wanna kiss me?” you asked slowly.

Steve stared at you for a second, waiting for you to laugh or tell him this was some practical joke Bucky had set up. Instead you were nervously twiddling your thumbs and turned your head down.

“Yes.”

You quickly looked up, eyes widening. Your mouth opened, words wanting to come out but failing. Closing your eyes and taking a breath you spoke, “Okay, let’s kiss.”

Shuffling to the other side of the table, you kneeled in front of Steve. Too nervous and too worried that saying anything might ruin the moment, Steve eyed you anxiously, the silence in the room instead being evaporated by the music softly playing behind him.. You took another deep breath before talking.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you said honestly, “everyone says it comes naturally but I’m kinda nervous.”

Steve let out a sigh of relief, at least he wasn’t alone in his worries.

“Neither do I, but I think we can figure it out, right?” Steve sat up straight, “I trust you.”

“I trust you too,” you nodded your head, sitting up on your knees, “alright, let’s just...do it.”

Wasting no time, you leaned forward, grasping Steve's face and kissing him quickly. It was a satisfactory medium, somewhere between a real kiss and a peck. As you pulled back, you saw Steve’s blushing face. He looked shocked, like he hadn’t known you would do that, but the corners of his mouth tilted up. You could feel the blood rushing to your face, the familiar heat taking over your cheeks.

“That wasn’t so scary,” you said, a smile growing on your face.

“Yeah, that was actually pretty nice,” Steve mimicked your smile.

Hands still on his cheek, you licked your lips before scrambling, “If you want, we could try again. Y’know the real thing. Just so we know what it’s like, though. Only if you want to.”

A wave of confidence overcame Steve, and before he knew what he was doing he had his hand on the back of your neck and was pulling you in. You gasped as his lips met yours once again. Leaning your head to the side, you parted your lips, prompting him to do the same. There was a moment when your lips interlocked that clicked in your head, the both of you knowing that this was how it’s supposed to feel. Too busy enjoying the rush of the new experience, you two kept going, giving each other kiss after kiss until Steve literally had to pull back before he’d have an asthma attack.

Breathing hard, you let your hands drop from Steve’s cheeks. You felt a big smile creep its way up your face, a laugh bubbling out of your chest. Steve looked up at you, catching his breath. He watched as you touched your cheeks and shook your head, a laugh slowly escaping him.

“We did it Stevie!” You lunged forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He let out a breathy small chuckle, hugging you back.

“We did, Y/n. Thank you.”

You pulled back and laid down on the carpeted floor, Steve moving to lay next to you. The two of you fell into comfortable silence. Staring at the ceiling, you contemplated your next question.

“Would you wanna lose our virginities together?” You asked, still staring at the ceiling.

Steve choked on his breath, eyes widening and head turning quickly to look at you. Hearing this you gasped and looked back at him.

“I don’t mean now, Jesus, Steve, I am not ready for that,” you giggled. Steve slowed his beating heart. Truthfully, if you had meant right then he would have said yes. After that kiss, he would’ve done anything you’d ask him to.

“What’d you mean, doll?”

You turned on your side to face him, resting your head on your palm, “I trust you, you trust me. I say we make a pact.”

“A pact?”

“Yes, a pact.”

Steve turned to his side to face you, “Alright, what’s this pact?”

You thought for a moment, “If by our twentieth birthdays we’re both still virgins, we do it together.”

Steve watched you. You spoke with all the confidence of someone who’d done this a million times but he could tell how nervous you really were.

“Deal,” Steve put his hand out for you to shake. You shook your head and grabbed his hand, pulling him in for a quick kiss.

“Enjoy that, it’s the last one you’ll get until we’re twenty,” you laughed, sitting up and moving back to your place on the other side of the table. Steve just laughed back at you and pretended to study the board, his mind too occupied with the feeling of your lips on his.

~

Highschool had ended for you and Steve, Bucky having graduated the year before. Over the years you had grown into your looks, your new maturity giving your face and your body a newfound attractiveness. Steve couldn’t help but notice how many more guys had talked to you in senior year, or how frequently you’d be invited to the dance hall on Friday nights. Still, the two of you remained best friends, Steve continuing to be the only boy to get the majority of your attention.

Steve really tried to right his head, but something had changed in him the night you two turned sixteen. You kissed, and he liked it a lot more than he should have. He couldn’t hide his feelings for you behind the veil of friendship anymore, he couldn’t even blame it on you being pretty. No, this wasn’t some new thing, he’d liked you for far too long for it to just be that. Stronger than his attraction, however, was his love for you as a friend. So he zipped his mouth shut, hoping that in a few years he might be able to kiss you again.

During the summer of your eighteenth birthday, you had gushed to Steve and Bucky about a guy named Charlie from The City who had asked you out on a date the week before. Steve sat with a faux smile on his face as you described how tall he was, how his green eyes shone, and how he was a whole two years older than you. He hated himself for it, but Steve couldn’t help but feel a little bit jealous. It’s not like you two had dated or done anything other than hug ever since that night on your guys’ birthday, but he didn’t like the idea of another guy kissing you the way he wanted to.

Much to Steve’s disappointment, the guy from NYC had really stolen your heart. Ten months after that first time you had told the boys about the amazing first date he had taken you on, you were walking back to Steve’s place with him and Bucky with a spring in your step.

“What’s got you so excited, doll?” Bucky had asked with a smile, pinching your side. You giggled and scanned the street, seeing people outside of shops eating ice cream and riding bicycles.

“Too many people out here, I’ll tell you guys when we get back to Stevie’s!” You giggled, looking as excited as ever.

The three of you rushed back, both boys curious about what had you so giddy. By the time you had made it to Steve’s front door you were jumping in place, biting your tongue to stop yourself from spilling the news too early. As soon as the three of you were inside and the door was shut you ran to the couch, sitting down and looking up at the boys, waiting for them to be ready to listen. The two sat on the floor in front of you, Bucky getting equally as excited and Steve smiling at the way your eyes were lighting up.

“Okay, y’know how Charlie and I have been together for about ten months now?” The boys nodded their heads, Bucky glancing at Steve as his smile faltered. “Last night we were in his apartment and,” you took a deep breath, “God, guys, we did it!” You clapped your hands together. There was a beat of silence before Bucky spoke.

“Wow, congratulations, doll,” Bucky said, kneeling up to give you a half hug. “He wasn’t an ass about it was he?”

“No, no of course not! Though, it wasn’t as fun as everyone had said it would be. But I don’t even care, I feel so grown up!”

Steve’s smile stayed plastered across his face. He wondered if you remembered the pact you two had made, feeling stupid for even having thought that maybe you would have wanted to keep it. Bucky walked you home that night. Before leaving, he patted Steve on the shoulder, giving him that same knowing look he had four years ago, this time with a sympathetic smile.

A few months had passed, Steve and you had celebrated nineteen, and the air was starting to heat up. Steve had passed up Bucky’s offer to go to the community pool, already knowing he would have spent the day sitting in the shade as Bucky chatted up girls. He sat in the living room, fanning himself and trying to escape the heat, when you showed up on his doorstep in tears.

“He said he doesn’t love me anymore, Stevie. I don’t know what happened,” you said through shaky breaths. Steve immediately knew who you were talking about and pulled you into his apartment, bringing you into a hug. He let you cry to him for nearly three hours, wanting nothing more than to punch that jerk of an ex-boyfriend in the face for doing that to you. And he did. Actually, Bucky did but Steve got a kick in there.

As time went on, you healed. You got over Charlie and Steve was happier than ever to see it. He had been there for you on countless nights when you couldn’t stop the tears from coming, when you decided to burn the little gifts you had received during the relationship, and when you started to smile again and would ask him to take you out to the dance halls. Steve had begun to forget about the pact he had been so hung up on as he realized he was falling in love with you. He had decided that, if his life continued with you smiling and dancing with him like that, he didn’t need to kiss you or lose his virginity with you, he just wanted you happy.

Unbeknownst to Steve, through the months you spent recovering from your breakup, you began to develop feelings for him. You had no idea why it took you so long to realize that the exact kind of guy you were looking for was in front of you the whole time. You were the happiest you could be when you were around him and he never failed to show you how cared for you were. Guilt coursed through you for falling for your best friend, your insecurities pointing out every reason there could never be anything between you two.

Almost a year had passed since Charlie had broken your heart and you found yourself happily sitting on the roof of Steve’s apartment with him and Bucky once again.

As first fireworks of the night had burst in the sky you let out a content sigh, “Happy twenty, Stevie.”

Steve turned to you to find you already looking back at him. In all honesty, Steve carried just a tinge of disappointment through this birthday. Even though he was happy just to have you by his side and watch you in all your joy, he had never completely forgotten about the pact you two had made, secretly dreaming of what could have been and how it could have led to more. But alas, you beat him to it, and he knew he would have to continue silently pining for you.

His eyes glossed over the brightness of your smile, remembering how the fireworks reflected off your face when you were sixteen and noticing how your cheekbones seemed more lifted and pronounced than they were back then. Steve focused on your lips. They were fuller nowadays and always accentuated with a thin layer of rouge. As he looked back up to your eyes you looked at him expectantly. Realizing he was caught staring, Steve cleared his throat and wished you a quick happy twenty back. You gave him a light chuckle, reeling inside at the fact he was so distracted staring at you.

As if on cue, Bucky’s voice broke through the awkward tension that had just formed, “Alright kids, happy birthday, but I gotta go.”

“Leaving so early again, Buck?” you asked, turning your attention away from Steve’s rosy cheeks.

“What’s your excuse this time?” Steve chimed in, sending Bucky a thankful nod for saving him from his embarrassment.

“Bec’s got a date to see the fireworks that I need to chaperone,” Bucky answered, burying his hands in his pockets.

“A date? To see the fireworks on the morning of the Fourth?” you asked incredulously, even Steve wasn’t buying it.

“Yup. Why else do you think Ma’s got me chaperoning it for?”

You and Steve just nodded and the three of you made your way down. Truthfully, Bucky didn’t actually have to chaperone Rebecca’s date, there wasn’t even a date at all. But he knew Steve better than anyone else and could tell how bad he had it for you. Bucky’d been hoping for years that he’d make a move and this was just another opportunity to leave you guys alone and give him a chance. Once Bucky was gone and you and Steve had gone back into his apartment, you two set up your usual routine, Steve would grab the drinks while you set up the checker board.

“I can’t believe we’re already twenty,” Steve called out from the kitchenette.

“I can’t either,” you shook your head as Steve set your coke down on the small table in front of you, “it feels like just yesterday we were here turning sixteen.” The last part made Steve stop in his tracks for a moment, his thoughts immediately going to the kiss from that night. You studied him, trying to see if he was thinking of the same thing you were. He recovered quickly, shaking his head and moving to the radio.

The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. Your heart beat out of your chest, you knew what you wanted deep inside yourself. As he searched for a good channel, mustering all the courage you could, you spoke again, “Hey Stevie?” Your voice was shakier than you would have wanted to admit.

Steve’s body was rigid, almost like he knew what you were about to ask. To say that he was anxious would be an understatement. He had hoped for years of this exact conversation, but he’d never imagined that he would actually get to have it, and he had no idea how he would manage to survive through it.

“Yeah,” his voice came out gravelly, he coughed and swallowed the lump in his throat, “yeah, Y/n?” He fiddled with the dials on the radio to avoid having to face you.

“Do you remember that...pact that we made, when we turned sixteen?”

Steve had yet to actually get a channel going, quiet static being the only sound consuming the room.

“Yes,” Steve nodded his head, pausing for a beat, “that if we were both still virgins by tonight then we would have sex, so that we would be each other’s firsts.”

You kept quiet for a moment. At any time up to this point you could have talked your way out of what you were insinuating, but the next sentence out of your mouth would put everything out on the table.

“Would you still want to do it?” You asked quietly.

“Why?” Steve asked, “You’re not a virgin anymore, Y/n, you don’t need to have sex with me to lose it.” There was a hint of bitterness in his tone, so light that, if it was anyone but you, it would have gone undetected. You paused as Steve finally found a channel with slow music playing, not knowing exactly how to respond to him. Getting up, you walked over to where Steve stood by the radio, standing behind him. Wrapping your arms around him, you rested your head on his shoulder, tilting your head to the side to whisper in his ear.

“I trust you Steve. I know I’m not a virgin, but I want this.”

Steve was nearly shaking, this is exactly what he had craved for so long, but now that he was actually living it he was more nervous than ever. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he got deja vu of the night that had started this four years before.

“I trust you too,” Steve spoke into the air. Those words cemented all the questions and doubts that had been running through both your minds. This was happening, there was nothing to think about but each other.

Steve held your wrists, breaking apart their hold around him, and turned in your arms. There was a moment of silence as you faced each other, both of you wondering if the other could hear your pounding chests.

“Just like before,” you said, looking into his eyes. You were the “experienced” one in this situation, you wanted to calm Steve’s nerves as much as possible.

“Yeah, just like before,” he nodded. You gave him a quick half smile before dropping your gaze to his lips. Pressing your hands onto his back, you pulled him into you. His hands found your waist, resting comfortably on the curve of your hips. Letting out one final breath, you leaned in and kissed him. This kiss was different from the one you two had shared when you were sixteen. Kissing no longer being the intimidating part, it was more confident and full, neither of you holding back or shying away.

You slid your hands to rest on his shoulders, leaning up into him and pressing your chest flush against his. Steve could feel your breasts push against him, not being able to help the shuddered breath that escaped his nose. With shaky arms, he slid his right hand further down and let it rest right above your ass.

Suddenly, Steve felt your tongue glide against his lip. He wasn’t sure if that was supposed to happen, all he knew was that he really wanted you to do it again. When you slid your tongue in one more, Steve followed, leaving a heated mingling of lips and tongues moving against each other. You seemed to be getting into it, so Steve took a small leap of faith, moving his hand down until he was completely cupping your ass.

Moaning into his mouth at the feeling of his hands on you, you reached for his left hand. Pulling it off your waist, you slowly raised it to sit right above your ribs, dangerously close to your chest. Steve’s breathing slightly quickened, understanding exactly where you were taking him. He moved his hand the rest of the way, gently cupping the swell of your breast, whimpering into your mouth. You slowly walked the two of you back until the back of his knees hit the couch. Tearing away from the kiss, you gently pushed his shoulders down until he was sitting and staring up at you with red cheeks. Breathing hard, you grabbed Steve's hands, bringing them up to the first of many buttons running all the way down the front of your dress.

“Open it, Stevie,” you softly command, the words coming out as more of a plea. Steve’s eyes widened, only realizing right then that he would actually be seeing you naked. He nodded his head and swiftly began to unbutton the top. He fumbled as he got halfway down, his heart beat rising as he saw your bralette under the small opening he had made. Sliding the dress off your shoulders and letting it fall to the floor, you stepped out of the pool of cloth, leaving you in only your undergarments. Steve couldn’t control the way his eyes raked down your form. He never thought he’d be able to see a woman like this, especially not you. Shifting uncomfortably in his spot, you could tell Steve was starting to get hard.

“We’re a little uneven, Stevie,” you giggled, motioning to his fully clothed body.

“Oh,” Steve let out a little laugh, “yeah, okay.” He quickly removed his shirt, leaving his undershirt and pants on. You didn’t comment on it, figuring those would come off later as he got more comfortable.

“Do you know how to take off a bra?” You asked. Judging by how pleasantly overwhelmed he looked, you knew the answer was no. You had only asked because you wanted to talk as you went along to cool his nerves, also wanting to know just how much you were ruining his innocence. He shook his head so you stepped forward in between his knees, bringing his hands up and holding them to the clasp of your bra.

“There’s three hooks holding this thing together, just hold each side with one hand and push them together to unhook them, okay?” You spoke to him how you normally would, trying to get comfortable by reminding him that it was just you. Unbeknownst to you, that was the exact reason he was so nervous.

“Alright,” Steve bit his lip. He fumbled with the hooks for a few seconds until he finally got one undone. Smiling to himself, he quickly unhooked the other two and held the fabric taut against you. He looked up at you, his heart pounding, he knew what was next.

Sliding the straps off your shoulder, you took the fabric from Steve’s hands, forcing him to drop them to his side.

“Keep your hands on me, pumpkin, don’t be shy” you said. He slid his hands up your hips to your waist.

“Right, we’re way past being shy with each other now,” he joked, looking relieved when you laughed with him.

“Yes we are,” you smiled at him fondly, “you sure you want this Steve? There’s no shame in backing out now if you don’t.” You dropped one of your hands to caress his face.

“Yes,” he replied shakily.

He held your hand to his face, reaching his other hand up to the front of your bra, hooking his index finger over the fabric in the center. You let your grip on the band slacken, allowing him to pull it from your chest, looking into your eyes. Steve let his gaze wander down to your chest, a gasp escaping the back of his throat as he took it in.

“Oh-oh my god,” he murmured to himself, licking his lips as his eyes darted around trying to get the full picture and memorize every detail.

Taking hold of them once again, you slowly turned Steve’s hands to hold your palms to the backs of his. Steve swallowed hard as you brought them forward to hold your breasts, moving his hands to squeeze them softly. His eyebrows furrowed, his jaw hung slightly open. You dropped your hands to your sides, letting him massage your breasts and move them around in his hands.

“I, um, I don’t know what I should do. I don’t wanna mess anything up,” Steve started, his hands coming off your chest and hovering in the air. You shook your head, grabbing his wrists and bringing his hands back to your chest. Steve could feel your hardened nipples under his palm and held back a groan, the sudden urge to have them in his mouth fogging his head.

“Do whatever feels right,” Steve looked at you warily, “I promise I’ll tell you if something isn’t right, Steve.”

Nodding at your reassurance, Steve began to rub his thumbs over your nipples, flicking them back and forth. With one last glance up at you, he leaned into you and wrapped his lips around one of them, swirling his tongue around the hard bud. Your head fell back as a moan rose from your chest, a gasp cutting it off as he used his hand to pinch the other.

Tangling your fingers in his disheveled hair, you jumped when you felt his hand slide down your stomach to cup your pussy. You breathed out his name as he rubbed over you, switching to suck on your other nipple. It all became too much, you used the hand in his hair to pull his mouth off you, his lips popping off your sensitive nipple.

“Wait,” you said, breathless, “I wanna try something.”

“Okay,” Steve replied quickly, his hands moving back up to your hips.

You sank to the floor and sat on your knees. Steve had absolutely no experience, but he had a feeling he knew what was about to happen. A wave of nervousness washed over him, he could learn to be good at sex if he tried hard enough, but there was no changing his body. His hands fell over yours that were already working down the zipper of his pants. You looked up at him, he could see how dilated your pupils were, he saw the same eyes that would give him comfort during his dark times and would stare down anyone who had anything nasty to say to him. He took his hand off and gave you a quick nod and you got to work.

Slipping off his pants, you let your hand rest over the erection pushing against his boxers. Palming him, you leaned up to kiss him again. You slipped your hand under the band and slid your hand onto his dick, feeling how hard and hot he’d gotten from just touching you. Sinking back down to your knees, Steve lifted his hips so that you could completely take off his boxers.

You relaxed a bit at the sight of his cock, it wasn’t small by any means, but it wasn’t too big where it’d make you worried about how he’d fit in you. Wrapping your hand around his shaft, you began to stroke him up and down, spitting on your hand to ease your movements. Steve’s back fell against the couch, moaning as your thumb brushed over his tip and spread the precum that had leaked out.

“Ah- fuck, your hands are so soft,” Steve whimpered. He was in absolute heaven. He had never imagined having a girl touch him could feel so good. One thing he knew for certain was that he’d never be able to look at you the same way knowing how it felt to have your hand wrapped around his dick.

Steve looked down at you right as he felt you lick a line up his shaft, circling your tongue around the top. Meeting your lust filled gaze, he let out a stream of moans and whimpers as you sucked on his tip and took him into your mouth, bobbing your head. You took hold of his hand and placed it on the back of your neck, giving him access to guide your movements. He kept his touches light as he pushed your head up and down, feeling your tongue on the underside of his cock. Not before long he was pulling you off on him and instinctively jutting his hips forward.

“I’m gonna come, Y/n,” Steve said to you worriedly.

You giggled and slid your hands up his thighs, “That’s kinda the point, Steve.”

“No, I don’t wanna come yet. I wanna come when I’m having sex with you.”

Biting your lip, you nodded, “Okay, c’mon then.” You grabbed his hand and walked to his bed. Before getting carried away, Steve quickly ran to his bathroom cupboard to get the box of condoms he had stashed away. Sitting him down, you grabbed his face and kissed him hard. Steve’s hands wandered along your sides, reaching behind you and groping your ass with both hands.

Pulling back, you grabbed his chin and looked him in the eyes, “Do you want to lead the way or would you rather have me take charge?”

Steve blushed at your offer, slightly embarrassed at his lack of knowledge. He told you of his choice of the latter before pulling you down to kiss him again. His thumbs hooked under the band of your panties, his finders kneading your behind. With a nod of approval, Steve slowly pulled them down, his pupils blown as he saw the fabric pass down your mound.

Surprisingly, Steve didn’t need to be told to touch you this time. He looked up at you, asking for permission as he held onto your thighs, spreading your legs apart. With a small nod from you, Steve pushed the pads of his ring, middle and index finger through your folds, his brow furrowing at the wet heat pooled between them. You let out a small whimper as his fingers brushed over your swollen clit, Steve eyes quickly looking up at your expression.

He brushed his fingers over the sensitive bud again, “That feel good?” His voice had become huskier and it was only fueling the pleasure his light touch was giving you.

“Mhm, yes,” you moaned when he suddenly slipped a finger in you, “Oh God, Steve!” You braced yourself on his shoulder as he used his other hand to push your thigh up, placing your foot on the bed frame so that you were spread open for him to see. Steve watched as his finger slowly went in and out of you, his nerves jolting at the idea of his dick replacing it. Before he could even question his own actions, he leaned down and licked a stripe over your clit, the unexpected sensation sending shockwaves through your body. Steve had spent years imagining what it would be like to fuck you, but all that was on his mind at that moment was the desire to spend eternity with his mouth on your sweet cunt. You felt yourself start to grind your hips over his face and, for the second time that night, had to pull his mouth off you.

“Later Stevie, please, I want to feel you in me, right now,” you said desperately. Steve simply muttered an okay, his brain still foggy and high off the taste of you, and reached back to grab a condom. Slipping it over himself, he threw the wrapper somewhere to the side and looked at you. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of your naked form crawling onto the bed next to him.

“I don’t know if other people do this or not but I’m gonna try getting on top of you, okay?” You asked, looking equal parts nervous and antsy. Honest to God, your nerves were crazy; Charlie hadn’t tried anything other than missionary with you, you were terrified of doing something wrong.

“Okay,” Steve breathed out, “you ready?” You nodded back to him. Steve laid down on his back, his shoulders lifting up as he rested on his elbows. Swinging one leg over him, you shifted until you felt his dick rub against your pussy, your slick coating it and leaving a sheen. Both you and Steve moaned at the contact, groaning as you rolled your hips over him again.

Using one arm to hold yourself up, you leaned down and kissed him, slipping your tongue in his mouth. Sliding your hand down in between your bodies, you grabbed Steve’s cock, lining his tip up to your entrance and, breaking the kiss, lowering yourself down on him.

Steve let out a deep groan, he had no idea this is what it would feel like. His mind raced as he focused on how warm and soft you felt wrapped all around him. As you began to grind your hips over his, Steve reached up and held your breasts in his hands, squeezing them and pinching your nipples. Your head fell back, your breasts bouncing in Steve's hands as you rode him.

“Shit, Y/n, that feels so good, God, you’re so warm,” Steve said through gritted teeth. He could feel himself getting close, he wanted to hold on so bad, but the pleasure was too overwhelming and new. Pulling you down for a kiss, he remembered how he had touched you earlier and lowered his hand to rub over your clit. Your body jumped at the added pressure, Steve could feel you clench around him, your hips stuttering with every thrust. With a loud groan Steve released into you, his warmth spurring you on more. You continued to ride him through his orgasm, Steve’s hips bucking up as you took him for everything he had.

Screwing his eyes shut, Steve’s jaw fell open and his hands balled into fists at his sides, a guttural moan leaving the back of his throat as you kept fucking yourself on him. His balls clenched and his abdomen tightened, a gasp pulling at him when you quickened your pace. Shaking his head he began to whimper, cursing under his breath and chanting out your name and small “too much”s.

You regressively slowed the movement of your hips. Leaning down to kiss him, you brought your thumb up to his face to wipe a stray tear that fell. Steve took deep breaths to collect himself, looking you in the eyes as his hands came up to rest on your hips. Bracing your palms on his chest and feeling his rapid heart beat, you lifted your hips to pull yourself off him, Steve letting out a hiss as your tight walls released him.

Steve’s eyes stared up at the ceiling as you laid down next to him, your forearm resting on your forehead to cool the heated skin. Removing the condom and throwing it in the small bin next to his bedside table, he looked over at you with a soft smile before eyebrows furrowed and he turned his head completely toward you.

“Did you come?” Steve asked. It was less of a wonder and more of an interrogatory question, as if you had thought you could get away without doing so.

“I don’t think girls are usually supposed to,” you responded with a shake of your head. You really, honestly didn’t know if that was even possible and would have been satisfied if the night's festivities had ended right then.

“Why not?” Steve genuinely questioned. You shrugged your shoulders before he lifted his back off the bed, his body slightly hovering over you, “Well, I want you to.”

Raising your eyebrows, the words left your mind, only allowing you to whisper a small “okay” back to him.

Resting his weight on his forearm, Steve lowered his face to yours, kissing a trail from your cheek to your lips. His hands wandered down your stomach to your warm cunt, his fingers running through your folds again, spreading your slick all over his fingers. You let out a small whimper into the kiss, still sensitive from riding him. He began to leave tiny kisses leading from your mouth to your chest, his lips pulling in one of your nipples and sucking hard. As much as Steve loved having his mouth on your breasts, the only thought in his head was how much he wanted to taste you again.

Steve backed up to the foot of the bed, wet hand spreading your legs apart as he licked a line from your entrance to your clit and circled his tongue around it. A moan dragged its way out of you, your hands shooting down to tangle themselves in his hair. He continued to lick you in any and every way he could think of with his one goal in mind.

Your back arched as you felt a finger slip in you, Steve’s tongue never stopping, making you squirm. As his digit moved in and out of you, you could feel your stomach burn with anticipation, but you knew it still wasn’t enough.

“Ah, Steve, add another one, please,” you gasped out, your head thrown back against the sheets. Following directions, Steve slipped another finger into you, groaning at the feeling of your walls fluttering around them. His lips left your clit for a moment, his head rising to look at your chest as you breathed hard and fast and your face as whimpers left your mouth, a small sense of pride swelling up in his chest at the sight of what he was doing to you.

“Curl your fingers, Steve, please, fuck,” you cried out. Your hips began to lift and fall on their own, grinding over Steve’s face as you felt his fingers curl and massage the spongy sensitive spot inside you.

You let out a loud moan, not being able to control your body as your stomach began to twitch and your thighs began to shake. Tensing, your mouth hung open in a silent yelp as you felt the burn in your abdomen spread throughout your body, your orgasm crashing over you. Steve sucked your clit lightly as he felt you squeeze his fingers, proud of himself for successfully returning the favor and making you feel even remotely as good and you had made him feel. You laid limply in your spot, small aftershocks running through you as Steve pulled his fingers out of your and cleaned you up with a few more licks.

Crawling up the bed to lay beside you, Steve’s arms and legs brushed against yours. Silence washed over the room, the only sounds being your steading breathing and the faint music playing from the radio.

“That was a lot better than I expected,” you said truthfully. Steve glanced at your profile for a moment, a flash of disappointment hitting him as he realized the pact was over. There was nothing for him to hope for anymore, he was sure nothing beyond this could ever possibly happen between you two.

“What were you expecting?” Steve asked quietly, turning his head back to the ceiling.

“Not that,” you let out a small chuckle, “When I first did it, y’know with Charlie, it really hurt, and he didn’t really do anything other than come and stop there. It didn’t feel good like this did with you.”

“It didn’t?” Steve’s eyebrows furrowed again, frustration bubbling inside of him at the mention of your ex-bastard.

“I didn’t even know it was supposed to,” you said shaking your head, “this was a lot better.” You turned to him, eyes drifting over his eyelashes highlighted in moonlight down to the soft curve of his pink lips. The words were on the tip of your tongue, threatening to spill out if you looked at him any longer. You tried to tear your eyes away but you couldn’t.

“Stevie?”

“Yeah, doll?” He turned to meet your gaze, his eyes flickering down to look at your lips before moving back up. He wasn’t sure whether or not to be embarrassed about being caught staring at you like that anymore.

You couldn’t take it anymore. Body moving faster than your mind, you leaned in and kissed him, your hand resting on his chest. Steve’s hand found your naked waist, holding you to him as he invited your kiss and returned it. Both of you could tell there was something different about this kiss, no longer fueled by sexual tension or disregarded as some juvenile learning exercise. No, this kiss was purely happening because it felt right, because it just made sense.

Pulling away from him, you rested your forehead against his for a moment before sighing and rolling back onto the bed. Another wash of silence, both of you having something to say but keeping quiet.

You let out another sigh before closing your eyes and speaking, a sad tone lacing your voice, “I don’t know what happened Steve. It’s like one day we were best friends and then out of nowhere I like you.” The voice inside your head chastised you for allowing your feelings to get in the way of such a good friendship but it was quickly cut off.

“What?” Steve couldn’t believe what he was hearing, he was sure some cruel part of his brain had imagined you saying it, still, he desperately wanted it to be true, “you do?”

You nodded, shame ran heavy through you, yet there was a hopefulness in Steve’s tone that made your heart skip a beat.

“I’m so sorry, I know I shouldn’t but I can’t help it,” tears welled up in your eyes. You were sure you had just ruined the best friendship you’d ever had. Steve looked at you to find tears running down your cheeks, he could see your lips tremble and felt his heart break at the sight. Throwing his arm around your shoulder, he pulled you into his chest, shushing your cries and comforting you like he always had.

“Please don’t cry, doll. Y/n?” He tried to get you to look up and listen to him but your face remained burning in the crook of his neck. Not being able to hear your uneven breathing and sniffles he held your jaw and pulled your face to his, his lips softly brushing yours. Your faces were so close you could feel the soft puff of breath leave his nose.

“Y/n?” Steve tried again with a whisper. You opened your eyes, immediately looking into his hazy blues. Your eyebrows tilted, silently telling him to go on.

“I have loved you for longer than I can remember.” Steve’s heart was racing, finally having admitted the truth he had worked so hard to contain.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” you asked quietly, your voice croaky from crying.

“I never thought you could want someone like me,” Steve answered honestly, his eyes casting down to escape your gaze.

“I’ll always want you.” Your hand laid over Steve’s on your jaw. Sliding it off and moving to rest it on his cheek, your head moved forward, your lips catching his. This kiss was soft and sweet, neither of you needing to find an excuse or reason. It was innocent and genuine, despite your prurient position. Pulling away from him, you smiled at him, wide and expressive of your joy. Steve smiled back, ecstatic and in awe of how lucky he was to have you.

Letting yourself roll back over onto the bed, you opened your palm, fingers searching for his before intertwining together. Steve’s thumb rubbed back and forth over your knuckles as you two fell into comfortable silence.

“Bucky’s gonna blow his wig when he finds out,” Steve chuckled. You couldn’t stop the loud laugh that rumbled through your chest.

“Yeah, he is.” Tilting your head up you found Steve’s eyes already trained on you, a fond smile on his face. Giving his hand a squeeze, you let your head rest on his shoulder as you closed your eyes, ready for a peaceful sleep to overcome you.

#steve rogers fluff #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction

[certifiedskywalker]

Regret Me - Sharon Carter

Zemo warned you that Madripoor was a lawless place, a den of pirates and thieves. The last time you saw Sharon Carter, she was neither a pirate nor a thief, save for the fact that she had stolen your heart long before. Turned out, she kept it as her favorite treasure.

WARNING: a n g s t

“Hopefully you can make something here work.”

“Hopefully? You got a whole damn shopping mall,” Sam quipped as he stepped up to one of the clothing racks Sharon pulled out. The blonde shrugged and leaned up against the nearest wall, dark eyes full of waiting. While Sam scanned through the array of options and Bucky looked on with disinterest, you fixed your attention on Sharon.

There were the faintest hints of a smile on her lips. Small lines, the dip of her dimples, deepened slightly at the corners of her mouth. When was the last time you saw Sharon Carter smile? When was the last time you saw Sharon Carter at all? Too long ago.

It was before the Blip, but after your stay on The Raft. When Steve broke you, Sam, and Wanda out, you decided to run your own way for a while. Your path led you back to Sharon, her apartment, or what was left of it. She was packing, stuffing what she could into luggage. In your mind, there was a dull, dim echo of your name falling from her lips and...

“Y/N?”

...not saying goodbye.

“Y/N?”

Sharon’s eyes were on you when you managed to pull yourself from your faded memories. You quickly averted your gaze and shook your head slightly in the hopes of clearing it; though, your muddled recollections remained and hung in your mind like storm clouds ready to release a downpour. When you looked back up at Sharon, her posture was straightened. She no longer leaned against the wall and there was worry perched in her furrowed brows.

“Sorry, what?” You asked, scratching at the back of your neck. Every nerve ending of your body itched to move, to run away and hide, but where? Sharon’s home, her new world, was so, terribly unfamiliar to you. It made the want to disappear into the home you remembered with her all the more painful to bear.

“I have choices that might be more your style,” she replied, slim arms crossed over her chest. You forced your eyes to remain trained on hers, despite how you longed to take in the full sight of her. “You interested?”

Sharon was always strong, it was one of the many things that initially drew you to her. But there was something in how she carried herself, how she looked at you in that moment, that made her seem invincible. Perhaps it was the all-black outfit, how it fit like a uniform but was entirely removed from her days as a S.H.I.E.L.D. operative. She looked ready for a fight or a party, and you felt that she would be happy with either.

You nodded at her question before you let yourself dwell on the allure of her confidence. Sharon’s lips quirked up in a full smile and she turned around, flicked her hand behind her to entreat you to follow. You glanced at Sam and Bucky, only for the latter to stare warily back at you. Glints in Bucky’s eyes revealed the same nervousness that tightened your chest.

Be careful.

You dipped your head, a wordless concession before you trailed after Sharon. The sound of her heels as they clicked against the hardwood floor matched the quickened pace of your heartbeat. To distract yourself from the alarmingly swift rush of blood through your body, you glanced around the channels of the apartment. Despite the lavish level of living the sleek modern furniture and expensive, most likely original, works of art, Sharon’s house did not feel like a home. It was bare bones.

The hallways you passed through were stark. Where old apartment in D.C. was decorated with her and he friend’s smiling faces, plants, and life, this High Town suite was lifeless, pictureless. The only thing that lived inside its walls was Sharon, but even then you weren’t entirely certain that she was living as she once was.

When she glanced over her shoulder, to check to see if you followed her, her dark eyes brightened. For a moment, she looked like she did before you both ran away. You had run in separate directions after Steve took Bucky to Wakanda. When Sharon smiled softly at you, you struggled to remember why you didn’t go with her.

“Like I said, some of this might be your style,” she said as she walked into what you assumed was her bedroom. Sheets on the queen-sized mattress were without a wrinkle, without a touch. “But, it’s been a while since I last...since I’ve seen you.”

“Yeah,” you said as Sharon walked over to a large set of closet doors. “I missed you.”

Sharon paused at your words. Her hands settled on the handles of the closet before they tightened. Knuckles, strained, turned white, but when she turned her head to face you, Sharon wore a smile. No longer were her eyes bright; in fact, they mirrored the blank, white walls of her apartment. The sight made your stomach twist.

“I’m flattered.”

Before you had a proper chance to react to the coldness of her tone, Sharon threw open the closet doors. Racks of silk slip dresses, pressed suits, and formal robes, all in clashing patterns, hung in troves. Some were sleek and monochrome, while others were borderline floral, a jungle stitched into fabric. Once you accumulated to the colorful assault before you, you glanced over at Sharon. Her smile had dropped, but her gaze remained trained on you.

“Your personal wardrobe?”

She shrugged. “Pick out what you like.”

You opened your mouth to reply, to ask why she seemed so frigid, when she turned her back to you, busied with her phone. It had been years, you told yourself, and she was still trying to help. Times were hard and clearly changed her, but she was still Sharon to the core. She was still the Sharon you once loved, the one you gave up everything for.

You frowned as you looked back to the closet. Idly, you searched through the hangers. As you flicked through each fanciful piece of clothing, your eyes landed on a simple shirt and jacket. The tags stuck out of the collars and caught your attention. They were both in your size.

You pulled the jacket from the rack and thumbed the tag to read it more clearly. “This is in my size, in your closet?”

“Yeah, that,” at the sound of her voice, you glanced up at the blonde. She eyed the jacket in your hands and nodded. “I saw it, a while back. Thought of you.”

Her dark eyes flickered up to hold your gaze. She watched you, carefully, read every microexpression you could not help but show. You almost felt her calculating. She had wanted you to find the jacket, to ask about the size.

“Sharon.”

“Try it on.”

You sighed and shook your head to clear it of all the things you longed to say. “I don’t think it will do us any good. Maybe I should go and-”

“Please.”

Never in your life had you heard Sharon Carter beg, not for anything. She took what she wanted, whether it was a job, a bullet, or your heart. She made it so easier for you to fall for her because you knew she was already prepared to catch you. When you were caught at the airport in Berlin, held in The Raft, you thought only of her. The moment you were free, you ran to her only to run away. Why?

“Please.”

You cut through the memory to the fear. What was the why: because you would run to her every time if given the chance, and that scared you. You got caught but she would look at you with all the want in the world. She would be ready to meet you in the middle as you made your way back to her. Sharon deserved better. Despite how everything else around you had changed, that fact had not.

“Okay,” you conceded, unable to deny the pained look in Sharon’s expression. You had caused her too much hurt to bring about anymore. As you stepped over to the full-length mirror propped up against the wall, you caught Sharon’s reflection behind yours. Her eyes were glued to you as you slipped the jacket over your shoulders.

Unable to deny how it fit so well, you admired the look of your reflection. As your gaze traveled up, you caught Sharon’s eyes in the mirror. You turned on your heels to face her and saw that the ache that she once wore had morphed. Her eyes drank in your form but her expression was blank. Even as she stepped towards you with hands extended out towards the lapels of the jacket, you could not read her. She was always a good spy.

Wordlessly, Sharon reached out and adjusted how the jacket sat on your frame. A whiff of her perfume, rose-like florals with hints of something more bitter, filled your nose. The smell was enough to throw you back into the memory of the last time you saw her, your not-goodbye.

"It fits, really well,” you said in the hopes of grounding you back to reality, to that moment. “You've really made a life for yourself,”

"I have.” Sharon brushed her hands along the lapels to flatten them out. She pulled away, met your eyes, and, suddenly, you could read her. "You could've come with, helped me."

"I..."

"This life could have been ours,” she pressed. “After I stole the shield and wings. I wanted you to, I asked you to. Do you even remember?”

"There was a lot going on. The team was..." You trailed off at the thought of the Avengers and let your eyes fall from Sharon’s. At least you were all alive back then.

"We were both wanted criminals, branded traitors,” Sharon continued, denying your excuse. “Why...why didn't you come with me?"

Your heart ached at her question, her tone. The confidence you saw, you admired only a few precious minutes before faded into the quivering bottom lip of insecurity. Sharon wasn't invincible, despite all her trying to be. You were her weak point, just as she was yours.

"I was scared...I didn't want you to regret me, me coming with."

“Regret you? Y/N,” her eyes widened, “I loved you, I needed you.”

You shook your head and gestured to the sleek room around you. “You don’t need anyone, Sharon. Look at what you’ve built for yourself.”

“I wanted to build it with you,” she said as her hands grabbed yours. You glanced down at your joined hands then back up at her face. The pain was there again. It hung in her dark eyes and downturned lips.

“I wanted that too,” you admitted, “but we...we were on the run, and if I got caught-”

“You wouldn’t have, I wouldn’t let you,” she interrupted.

“That’s my point. You would risk your life for me and I would have risked it all for you, then we would both be lost. We might both regret it, us.”

You slipped one of your hands from her and reached up to brush a stray strand of hair from her face. Sharon leaned towards your touch for only a moment. Then, as you tucked the hair behind her ear, she thought better of it. Her eyes met yours, held your gaze with an intensity that refreshed the image of her strength in your eyes.

“I regret having to miss you.”

“I did too.”

Sharon nodded and swallowed hard before she added, “I mean, we didn’t even really say goodbye.”

“I didn’t want to think we had to, I guess. We are here, so…”

“We are here,” she echoed. For a long moment, you and Sharon stared into the other’s eyes. You swore you saw her lips twitch up slightly, an almost smile, but it didn’t last. It melted away as she began to lean towards you.

She pressed her lips to your forehead. It was a gentle kiss, only the smallest reminder of what you and Sharon used to be. Though, it was enough to make your heart swell and dull the soreness of your heart. When Sharon pulled away, you saw that, perhaps, it did the same for her too. She seemed less grim, more like she was when you, Sam, Bucky, and Zemo first ran into her: confident and new.

“So, no goodbyes. Only, ‘see you laters’.”

“Only ‘see you laters’,” you agreed. Sharon nodded and stepped away from you. She started towards her bedroom door and, for a second, you thought she was going to leave you alone. Just as you were about to resign yourself to your thoughts, your regrets, Sharon glanced over her shoulder. She smiled.

“C’mon, we got a party to go to.”

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