#thank you again to the nonny who inspired this I hope you will like where I take this and I hope you know that i appreciated you sending it

[afewproblems]

In My Heart is a Memory (And There You'll Always Be) Part One

So! Awhile back now I received an anonymous prompt - which I can't post all of (yet) since it will spoil this new WIP which has gotten away from me in terms of length (as always). Needless to say we begin with Steddie childhood friends AU and continue from there!

Thank you to the nonny who sent me this beautiful prompt, I can't wait to take you on this journey!

Steve never thought it would end this way. 

He tries desperately again to loosen the fishing line that has wrapped itself around his foot, trapping him in the frigid grey water. Steve paddles up again to take a deeper breath only to find that he's unable to fully breach the surface enough to breathe.

He gulps down a mixture of water and air, sputtering as it hits his lungs and chokes his throat. He realises, deliriously, that he might actually die here, alone in the woods at twelve years old. 

This is why his mother had forbidden him from swimming in the lake, especially by himself; she had told him a million times not to go down there alone. 

Steve slips under again, watching as the last few bubbles of air fly towards the surface above him, his vision begins to tunnel as he belatedly wishes he had thought to tell someone that he was going to lovers lake that afternoon. 

Two strong hands suddenly appear on both sides of him, grasping Steve by the arms, hauling him out of the water. 

"Shit, he's caught on something, Ed, hand me my knife, hurry," a gruff voice says as Steve is dragged into a boat, he sputters and coughs, gasping for air as his lungs burn and seize.

"Is he okay?" another younger voice says anxiously. 

Steve opens his eyes just enough to find a wide pair of brown eyes staring back at him, a boy with a mop of curly hair sits beside Steve, he chews his lip nervously as the older man works on cutting away the tangle of old fishing line that had caught Steve earlier.

"This is why we always take our lines with us instead of leavin' em in the lake," the older man huffs as he severs the last knot holding Steve's leg, "he should be okay, you're lucky we were here kid".

All Steve can do is nod, his chest and throat still sore from his near drowning.

The other boy, Ed, inches closer but doesn't touch him, he looks around the boat with raised hands as though looking for some way to help.

"I think we're done fishing for today," the old man huffs, if he's anxious his voice doesn't show it, but Steve can see the worry in his dark eyes. 

"Give him your coat Ed, let's bring our catch home to warm up".

The words seem to jumpstart the other boy as he hurriedly shrugs off his jean jacket and draps it clumsily over Steve's shoulders.

"You got a name kid?" the man asks gently before his expression finally shifts to one of panic, "aw hell, we gotta warm you up, you ain't even shivering". 

"His lips are blue," Ed blurts out, his brow pinched with worry, "Wayne--"

"I see it, sit with him would ya, I'll get the engine going again," Wayne grunts out as he switches places with Eddie. The boat tips slightly as they move making Steve hiss as cold water tips over the side and onto his legs. 

"My name's Eddie," the teen yells over the roar of the engine motor as it jumps to life; he sits down on the bench across from him, "what's your name?"

"S-Steve," he manages to get out between chattering teeth, his body finally beginning to shake in an attempt to warm itself back up.

"Don't worry," Eddie murmurs sagely, "we'll take care of you, right Uncle Wayne?"

Wayne nods with a tight smile as he begins to steer the boat back to shore.

"I don't need the hospital," Steve grumbles from the back seat of the pickup truck, eliciting an exaggerated eye roll from Wayne in the rearview mirror.

Heat blasts from the vents as soon as they pull away from the dirt side road by the docks and Steve is finally starting to warm up. Wayne had helped him step his shaking limbs into his discarded clothing they found on docks, but his damp swim shorts had soaked through his jeans, leaving a small persistent shiver running through him.

"We ain't leaving it to chance kid," Wayne grouses at him, "you inhaled a lot of lake water back there and I've spent enough time in a boat to know you need to be checked out by a professional".

Steve pouts in the back seat next to Eddie who looks between Steve and his uncle with a sharp furrow between his brow.

"Couldn't we take him to our place Wayne, we can look after him there," Eddie says with a toothy grin, he winks at Steve before catching Wayne's unimpressed glare in the rearview mirror.

"No, hospital first," he grumbles but the words are without heat and if the fond smile is anything to go by, Wayne seems more exasperated than angry.

Which is good. 

Steve can't begin to picture how angry his own dad will be when he gets home. 

Maybe enough for the belt again.

He shivers again and feels a bony shoulder connect lightly with his own; Steve looks up to find Eddie staring again, this time with a shy smile.

"You good," Eddie asks, a hint of nervousness in his voice, "sorry 'bout him".

He holds up one hand to block Wayne's vision of Eddie's face and points towards his uncle into the palm of his hand, "the old man’s stubborn sometimes".

The absurdity startles a wild giggle out of Steve that Eddie soon matches.

Wayne keeps driving, his eyes travelling between the road and the rearview mirror at the two boys giggling in the backseat. Wayne shakes his head and smiles slightly as they pull onto Main Street.

"Are you at Hawkins Middle? I don't know if I've seen you there before," Eddie asks abruptly, interrupting the laughter.

"I'm going to the highschool next year which is kind of cool," Eddie continues, not waiting for Steve to answer which is almost a relief given the strange exhaustion settling in Steve’s bones the longer they sit there. 

"I heard from one of the other older kids at the tra--the park that there are a ton of clubs to join and even one for Dungeons and Dragons --you heard of it?"

Steve shakes his head, "is that like a board game or something?" 

Eddie barks out a laugh and launches into an explanation, the words tumbling out at a mile a minute to the point that Steve isn't sure what he's even talking about anymore.

"And you use your character traits to help decide what to do, then the roll you get from your dice determines if you are successful or not!" 

Steve frowns slightly, it doesn't sound like any board games he's ever heard of but it has dice, what else could it be? 

"It's hard to explain without like showing you the books," Eddie admits, picking at a stray thread from the hole in his jeans, "I'll show you later at school, maybe?" 

Steve can count on one hand the number of times he's actually been invited to hang out or play with another kid over the years that wasn't orchestrated by his mother.

He's not much for board games, but if that's what Eddie's inviting him to play, who is Steve to say no? 

"Do you get to fight Dragons? Like a knight?" Steve asks quietly, his throat still sore from earlier. He laughs when Eddie nods so excitedly his whole body practically vibrates before jumping into a new explanation of the different characters people could play.

Steve spends the whole time listening with a wide grin on his face. He doesn't think he's ever met someone who talks so much, but Eddie has so much to say and he wants to tell Steve of all people. 

He's too tired to add anything himself, the adrenalin from earlier seems to flow out of him, sinking into the back seat.

"Do you have Newson for English?" Eddie asks as they enter the hospital and Wayne takes them to the counter, he speaks with the nurse at the Emergency Room intake desk in a hushed voice, letting Steve and Eddie continue their conversation.

Steve shakes his head, feeling suddenly warm, much too warm and tired.

"Maybe we have the same lunch period, I want to show you the players handbook on Monday," Eddie practically vibrates beside him with excitement, "you can sit at my table and…Steve?" 

Eddie suddenly sounds so far away, Steve struggles to stay upright and sways heavily into the other boy's side. 

"Steve?!"

There's a commotion around him, people yelling and touching him suddenly, but he doesn't want that. He's so warm, it's hard to think, his vision begins to tunnel again.

The last thing he sees as a pair of gentle hands lay him down is Eddie worried brown eyes staring into his own as his world goes dark.

***

The first thing Steve realises when he wakes up, is that he's in a hospital bed.

The second is that he's alone.

The steady beat of the heart rate monitor almost lulls him back to sleep but he fights to stay awake. 

Steve peers around the room, spotting his mothers coat and purse on the chair in the corner. 

Shit. 

This is what he was hoping to avoid, his parents finding out he deliberately disobeyed their rules and landed himself in the hospital. 

Steve tries to sit up but the movement pulls at the strange tubing around his face and the IV in his arm. He hisses at the tug of the needle and flops back down against the flat pillow behind his head.

The heart rate monitor ticks up slightly at the movement, seemingly calling out to the nurses at the station outside.

As if on cue, a nurse steps into the room, followed by his mother. 

Diane Harrington always looked put together. Pearls, heels, never a hair out of place.

Today however, Diane's pale wane face stares at Steve in stony silence. No makeup, her hair sits flat against her head. A fine tremor runs over her clenched hands but she smooths down the front of her shirt to hide it.

"Looks like someone's awake," the nurse says with a kind smile. 

She picks up the chart at the edge of the bed as his mother walks around to the chair that has been pulled up closest to Steve's side. She doesn't sit.

The nurse is around his mom’s age, maybe a little older if the laugh lines around her mouth are any indication. Her blond hair is streaked with grey as well and pinned back to let the small white hat sit properly on top. Her light brown eyes trace over the page of his chart and a slight crease begins to form between them as she frowns slightly.

"What is it?" Diane says, the words come out smoothly; Steve tries to make eye contact with her, to see just how mad she is about this, how mad his dad will be when they get home, but she ignores his gaze.

"The doctor will be in shortly, he'll explain," she says apologetically before placing the chart back down at the edge of the bed.

"Steven," the nurse says softly as she walks towards him, on the side opposite his mother, "my name is Claudia, and myself and Doctor Sattler will be taking care of you today".

Steve nods, suddenly shy as Claudia reaches into the pocket of her white apron and shows Steve a long black tube with a shiny metal circle at one end, the other is split down the middle into two angled sections at the other end.

"Steven, this is a Stethoscope, I'm going to use it to listen to your heart and your lungs, so I'm going to need you to sit up, can you do that for me?" 

He nods and begins to shift, slowly this time to avoid jostling the IV this time. 

"Steven," Diane says sharply from her place beside the bed, she still isn't looking at him, "you need to answer when you're asked a question."

"Sorry," he mumbles, abashed at his mother's words.

Claudia's frown returns as her eyes dart between Steve and Diane, but she remains silent and simply places the stethoscope into her ears.

"This will be a little cold," Claudia warns as she lifts up his shirt to place the metal against his back, "okay, you're going to give me a big deep breath," she instructs softly, giving him a smile.

Steve breathes in, it's not painful, but there's an awful pressure in his chest that makes him wince, the strange whistling sound his breath makes also doesn't help.  

Claudia must notice because she tuts and tells him she just needs a few more breaths from him.

She moves the metal from his back to his chest and asks him to take two more deep breaths for her, on the last one his chest spasms and his throat constricts just enough to make him begin to cough horribly. 

Steve doubles over, uncaring this time of the pull on the IV, he can't seem to catch his breath this time.

Steve registers his mother and Claudia trying to speak to him and a gentle hand on his back rubbing in a soothing circle but all Steve can think is, I can't breathe, as he coughs up a glob of frothy pink liquid into the sheets covering his legs.

The steady beep of the heart rate monitor begins to increase to a constant frantic pulse, I can’t breathe, he wants to scream but his throat constricts around the words, it feels as though an elephant has sat itself in the middle of his chest as he registers something being pressed to his mouth and nose.

"Try to take a deep breath, one mississippi, two mississippi, that's it sweetheart," Claudia pats his back gently and keeps a steady hold of the mask over his face.

The pressure in his chest slowly begins to relent as he follows Claudia’s direction, one mississippi, two mississippi, in and out. The constant puff of air around his nose and mouth seems to finally be helping.

"You're going to give us even more grey hair before we discharge you huh kiddo," a new voice rumbles from the door.

Steve looks up wearily at a man in a white coat with horn rimmed glasses staring down at him. There is a kind smile on his face, much like the one Wayne had when he helped Steve exit their truck earlier that day. 

Was it still Saturday? Steve looks around again for the window, he could have sworn it was still light out.

"What are you giving him?" Diane whispers above Steve, she hazards a brief glance at him before looking back at the doctor who lifts a syringe to pump something into the IV tubing, but Steve isn’t paying attention, he’s trying to find the clock he had seen earlier on the far wall.

"Just something to help him breathe a little easier, that's all," the man says gently as he takes Steve's chart from the end of the bed where Claudia had left it.

"BP is a little low," Claudia murmurs, she lets go of the mask and lays Steve back down onto the bed, smoothing his hair back lightly as she leaves his bedside.

"Steven, my name is Dr. Sattler, I heard you had an interesting morning today?" 

Dr. Sattler gives Steve and his mother a warm smile as he places the chart back down on the bed, he eyes the machines at the bedside for a moment before taking Steve’s wrist gently in his hand and lifting the face of his watch up to meet his eyes.

He nods and lays Steve’s hand back down onto the bed, above the covers. 

Suddenly a bright light is shining into Steve's eyes, he winces slightly as it moves quickly, “Steven, can you tell me if you hit your head at all when you were in the lake today?” 

Steve tries to think back to the lake. He remembers getting his foot caught in the discarded fishing line, the feeling of water running down the back of his throat, filling his nose; the way the light began to fade as he sank down--

“Steven?” Dr. Sattler prompts again, his brow creases in the barest of frowns.

Steve swallows once and shakes his head as a shrill beeping noise fills the room, everyone flinches, whirling around to the machines before Steve's mother snatches her purse from the nearby chair and rips the buzzing pager out to turn it off.

She glares at the message, "I need to make a call, I'll be back". 

Dr. Sattler frowns but steps aside to allow Diane to sweep out of the room.

"Well Steven-"

"Can you call me Steve?" He asks, the words so quiet that Dr. Sattler and Claudia both tilt towards him to hear.

The doctor reaches for the chart again, his eyes flick to Claudia once before landing back on Steve with a small patient smile.

"Of course, Steve," he says deliberately before clearing his throat, "I'll wait for your mother to come back to go over our plan for you okay?" 

"Are you," he whispers, "am I going to need a shot?" Claudia tuts this time, coming around to the side of the bed to brush his hair away from his forehead, "you were so brave for your IV," she says brightly, "if you need another I'll hold your hand, how does that sound?" Steve blushes as his little face scrunches into a grimace. He knows he wasn't awake when they gave him the IV.

After a beat, he shakes his head, "It's okay, I'm not a baby". Claudia purses her lips and pats his hand gently, "I don't like needles either, sometimes I need someone to hold my hand, no shame in it, okay?"

Steve chews on that thought for a moment, rolling it around in his head, why would adults be scared of anything?

His dad had made it perfectly clear over the years what real men were like, and being afraid of things never once made the list.

Steve looks up at the nurse and meets her kind eyes, a softer brown than he'd ever seen before with fine lines in the corners creased into a smile.

"I'd hold your hand, Miss Claudia," Steve agrees eventually.

She smiles at him and pats his hand again before stepping away.

"I'll go find your mother, there's only one payphone on this floor so she can't be far," she asserts to Steve before making her way to the door. She whispers something to Dr. Sattler on her way out before disappearing through the door.

"While nurse Henderson tracks down your mother, I'll see if radiology has your scans ready, sit tight kiddo”.

Steve nods as the doctor tries for a small reassuring smile but the effect is lost in the tightness around his eyes. Dr. Sattler pushes open the door which swings back and forth as he disappears into the hallway, leaving Steve to lay back against the flat pillows and scratchy hospital sheets, with only the steady sound of the monitors and the clock on the wall to keep him company.  

A new wave of exhaustion sweeps over him suddenly, now that he’s alone. 

He wishes Eddie had managed to convince his uncle to let them just go back to their place, he would have been okay if they had just stayed in the truck - he probably wouldn’t have passed out if they had just gone to Eddie’s house.

Steve glares at the ceiling at the unfairness of it all, a small part of him knows that it’s for the best that Dr. Sattler and Miss Claudia are looking after him now, but what will his dad say about the hospital bills, or the bed rest?

He’s not sure how much time has passed. It’s been harder to keep track of here without a proper clock in the room but the sun has moved, carving long shadows in his room in between the copper evening light. He must have drifted off at some point since his mother has suddenly returned as well as Dr, Sattler. 

Miss Claudia is nowhere to be found and Steve finds himself feeling rather bereft at her absence. 

Diane Harrington stands beside his bed, her hands wrapped so tightly around the strap of her purse that her manicured nails dig into the palms of her hands and her knuckles have been stained white.  

Dr. Sattler stands in front of a large box affixed to the wall, it’s lit up with two translucent black and white images on it that the doctor keeps pointing to different areas of the strange lumpy white images while he talks.

“To put it simply, Mrs. Harrington, it’s not good”.

Oh.

Steve feels as though the bed beneath him has dropped away while Doctor Sattler continues speaking. 

Steve had aspirated a lot of water into his lungs while in the lake and was already in the beginning stages of pneumonia because of it. So Steve would need to stay on his course of antibiotics and oxygen for at least a week to let his lungs heal and rest as much as possible. 

Diane’s expression does not shift during the conversation, remaining artfully neutral the entire visit. She nods and asks questions about Steve’s medication and when he would be allowed to come home.

A flicker of something crosses her face when Dr. Sattler mentions the inhaler Steve would likely need to carry with him at all times.

“For how long?” she asks sharply as Dr. Sattler flips through Steve’s chart once more.

He hums and purses his lips, “honestly, it depends, he could need it for a few months, he could need it for the rest of his life,” he shakes his head and sets down the chart, “we need to see how his lungs look after the inflammation goes down to really be sure”.

“What does that mean?” Steve blurts out, drawing their gaze towards him. 

Steve bristles slightly as Diane shoots him the barest of glares. He’s the one in the hospital bed, he can’t even ask questions about what will happen to him?

“The tissue in the lungs is very sensitive and delicate,” Dr. Sattler continues, his words come out slowly as though he is carefully sifting through to choose the best ones, “so, what that means is you may need medication to help your lungs function properly”.

“Steven’s father was hoping for him to join the varsity swim team in the next few years,” Diane says wearily, the first hint of emotion finally seeping into her voice as she sinks into the chair holding her purse. 

Steve winces. 

It’s no secret that his father’s goal for Steve, his…expectation, is for his son to follow his example to the letter. 

Varsity swimming --perhaps even basketball if he takes after his father’s lithe frame of six foot two. Get into college on an athletics scholarship, graduate with a business degree to eventually take over the family business --not that Richard has ever once explained just exactly what he does for a living. 

Steve would then marry a nice girl, one he'll meet at college since Hawkins won't have any girls good enough for the Harringtons, and eventually pump out two grandkids for Diane to fawn over.

This was the plan for Steve’s life, there was no room for error.

“Mrs. Harrington, there’s no reason to think he won’t be able to do these things--”

But the words fall flat as Steve’s mother gets up from her chair and stalks out of the room, leaving a wake of disappointment and silence behind her. 

A lump begins to form in Steve’s throat and he tries to blink away the harsh sting in his eyes. He knew he shouldn’t have gone to the lake that morning, he’d been told so many times never to go by himself, not when the Harringtons had their own beautiful inground pool installed just three summers ago. 

Dr. Sattler breathes out a long weighty sigh and lifts a hand to scratch at a missed patch of stubble on his chin.

He looks between the closed door and back at Steve, seeming to make a decision.

"Okay son," Doctor Sattler sighs, "you're going to hear things over the years about what you will or won't be able to do".

Steve lifts his hand up to wipe at his eyes as discreetly as he can with the doctor at the edge of his bed and nods.

"This does not need to define you, there are plenty of athletes out there with lung conditions and I would encourage you to keep active, it might actually benefit you to do so". 

Steve manages to hold back a scoff just barely and nods, dropping his gaze to his feet beneath the blankets.

"I'm not saying you need to go out and run a marathon," Doctor Sattler says dryly at the incredulous expression on his face.

"But you will need to keep them strong and exercise will help with that, so if you like swimming, keep swimming, okay kid?"

He pauses again and adds, "no smoking while you're at it". 

Steve's mouth drops open in protest, he's never smoked, well, not a full cigarette at least.

One of the neighbour kids, Tommy, had smuggled cigarettes out of his dad’s pants pocket and taken them to school for everyone to try. Steve had nearly thrown up at the taste and the feel of acrid smoke filling his nose and mouth.Tommy had laughed so hard about Steve spitting into the grass outside the baseball dugout and proceeded to tell everyone he could find. 

Steve still associated the taste of cigarettes with Tommy's laugh, the sound turning his stomach just as easily now.

Steve shakes his head under the doctor's unimpressed gaze, "I-I dont--"

Doctor Sattler raises his eyebrow and cuts Steve off with a sweep of his hand, "sure son, just make sure you don't continue, especially because your lungs are still growing and we want to capitalize on that as much as possible".

The doctor pats Steve's shoulder awkwardly, letting his heavy hand rest briefly before he turns away towards the door once more. 

"Anyway, I have a feeling you'll be getting a few more lectures in the future so that's enough out of me, you best settle in kiddo, you'll be here for at least a week".

Steve nods tiredly, he can hear his dad's voice in his head now, 'this is the stupidest thing you've ever done Steven--'

"Get some rest, no sense worrying about it now," Doctor Sattler says as he slips out into the hallway without a knowing furrowed brow.

And with that Steve is alone once more. 

The light outside his window is beginning to fade into the horizon; he wonders belatedly if Eddie will look for him on Monday.

Steve rolls over, ignoring the new sting behind his eyes and the heaviness in his lungs as he wonders how he can miss someone he just met this much.

Part Two Now Up!

#childhood friends au #pre-steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #hurt steve harrington #afewproblems writes #In my heart is a memory and there you'll always be #is this from a song from The Fox and the Hound #we love a protective and stubborn wayne in this house #claudia henderson is a nurse and I will die on this hill because I love this idea #steves parents can kick rocks #steve harrington has bad parents #thank you again to the nonny who inspired this I hope you will like where I take this and I hope you know that i appreciated you sending it

[fatuismooches]

hi omg, I hope you don't mind me sending requests <3

I live for your writing sm, all of your fluffs gave me diabetes but healthier. I am a sucker for all of them, so thank you for putting your time and effort in your written works <3

I was thinking of headcanons with gn!reader and the fatui members but the reader is fragile, who can get easily sick or physically weak because of the unhealthy conditions during their childhood. I would love to think about those "meanies" (cough dottore or scara) would go insta worry mode if something bad happens to you because of your condition. Fluff or angst, I'm in love with both, I hope you don't mind about the request ^^ (you can decide platonic or romantic <3)

♡ 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐥𝐞/𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 ♡

synopsis: The Harbingers are made of steel, unflinching in any possible situation. That is until they start worrying over your frail figure.

includes: all harbingers (platonic pulcinella) w/ gn! reader

notes: I really loved this request, it made me really inspired! (Probably because they'd be extra soft in this scenario and I love that...) I hope you like this nonnie!

Pierro:

He doesn’t get to see you very often with his work and whatnot. But rest assured that you are in good hands, and that even if Pierro only has a spare twenty minutes of break, he’s coming to your room or wherever you are to check up on you. He doesn’t want you to be restrained. He wants you to go and experience Snezhnaya instead of being cooped up alone all the time (with the proper guards and company of course.) He is a very stoic but kind gentleman. You’d hide in his coat while walking together and no one would know until you pop out of it and scare the recruits. He holds the doors open, pulls up the blankets to the very top. When you’re tired due to your sickness he likes to use ancient Khaenri’ahn magic to make you smile.

If you died, Pierro would feel grief that he has not felt since the destruction of his homeland. He has already lost so much that his heart had become numb a long time ago, but your death made it come flooding back. He would have some kind of small figure similar to a chess piece made of you, and he’d keep it on him. In the battle for his heart, you were always the winner. What hurt the most was that he couldn’t even be with you in your final moments, to at least confirm how much he loved you despite everything. But he promises you, he will see you again in the “Old World” after fulfilling the Tsaritsa’s dream.

Capitano:

He is really worried for you. It was such a sharp contrast - big, tall, in tip-top shape, hulking Capitano while little old you struggled to walk straight sometimes. If you sneeze or even cough once, he’s literally all over you asking you if you’re okay. He tries to do a lot of things for you by himself. He stabs the meat on your plate so hard it breaks. He accidentally spends an hour deciding what you should wear, because he didn’t realize you had this many clothes, so he needed to choose something that’d look the best on you, despite not really having any fashion sense. But at least he is very diligent with your medicine times. He literally hovers over you, unintentionally being menacing, while you drink it. It’s very cute but the first time he did it, you spat out the medicine in surprise because you opened your eyes and he was just standing there with no warning. (Don’t ask him to pour it though. Once you asked him to pour a little into the bottle’s cover. His hands were too big and it spilled on the bedsheets.) If you collapse on him, he would be internally panicking so hard. Poor guy thought he hurt you somehow. The kind of guy who paces back and forth and causes everyone around him ten times more anxiety with how he’s acting. Also, lots of rides where you hook your legs over his shoulders and your hands are on his head (I don’t know what they’re called.)

If you died, Capitano would feel like a monster. Yes, he didn’t kill you, but it still felt like your blood was on his hands. Or did he kill you? He brought ruin and destruction to everyone, did he curse you too? How did he even know you were happy with him? Did you regret it? Would you have been happier spending your days with someone else? Horrific questions dug deeper and deeper stabs into his sturdy body, weighing him down day by day. He would give up anything just to have you back in his arms, for you to reassure and caress him, that he wasn’t a demon. But it seemed like the monster part of him was taking over anyway.

Columbina:

The kind of lover who has a list of songs that remind her of you and also buys you the record so you could listen to it. Columbina thinks music can soothe and heal the soul. So everyone can frequently hear tunes coming from your room. She also has a very calming voice in general, so when you are in pain, she just talks to you. She’d gently croon you to sleep or get you to spill all of your fears about the future, and thus comfort you. Since she sings, I’m declaring that she’s pretty poetic and would write poems for you. They always include bravery, strength, and overcoming illness with love, complete with heart doodles around it.

If you died, she would create multiple songs in honor of you. At your funeral, they couldn’t go on with the proceedings for a long time because she sang for hours, thinking of you. Often, she would go to your coffin, encased in ice, and just lie on it, singing. I think she would take a piece of your clothing and attach it to her outfit or something. I just have a feeling that she has lost before, but she likes to hold that article of clothing and feel as though you are still with her. She would become lost in her thoughts a lot more than before. If you had a favorite song, Columbina could often be found humming it to herself alone. 

Dottore:

He’s a doctor. A very unethical one, but Dottore’s still extremely intelligent. He knows what you can and can’t do, your possibilities and your limits, your good days and your bad days. He doesn’t trust anyone else to monitor your progress and health. When it’s time for your walks, Dottore personally comes with you, which baffles the other Fatui who knows that virtually nothing can come between him and his research. He tells you about how his medicine for you is coming along, and while you can’t really understand any of it, you like clinging to his arm for support. When it’s time for your medicine, he administers it himself despite your whining that it’s yucky. (For you though, he would find a way to make it a flavor to your liking.) 

But even for him, illness can sometimes be unpredictable, despite his precise calculations. Which is why whenever your condition randomly takes a turn for the worse, his mood completely changes and he’s already running a bunch of tests and taking your pressure and all of the like, trying to figure out what triggered your illness. Everyone knows not to even look at him during these times. Doesn’t show it but even though he isn’t scared of anything, these little stunts are not good for him. Has notebooks dedicated to your condition and daily status updates. Nothing goes unnoticed by him. Oh, but he’ll have his clones piggyback you around when you’re too tired to walk <3.

If you died, Dottore wouldn’t show it, but he would never forgive himself. He has the power to create artificial Gods, clone himself, and so much more, but he couldn’t save you? Honestly, he would probably preserve your body through cryosleep, unable to accept your death and his failure. He keeps you in a room that no one else has access to, and just… stares at your naked body in the tube, ruminating about how much he wanted you back. Dottore’s efforts to research and master resurrection triple, and he won’t stop until he could hear your voice again. 

Pulcinella:

When you’re at your lowest because of your illness, Pulcinella always comes in and likes to tell you some roundabout story that always has a life message at the end. He’s serious with you but also likes when you have fun. Reads you stories in different voices but it’s not very good when he sounds like a grandpa in all of them. He likes to set you up with different Harbingers. They’re also like family to him so he would want them to spend time with you. It would help your mental health too, he thinks. While some are fine with it, others are less interested, let's just say Papanella has his ways.

If you died, it really felt like he lost his own child. Pulcinella loved when you came to him asking for stories. When you sometimes left the country but came back with exciting stories. He liked to joke that if an old man like him could make it for this long, you’d have to as well. He really wanted you to go and experience the world and what it had to offer, just like he did. Planning your funeral was not something he was looking forward to.

Scaramouche:

Sometimes, he can’t help but think to himself, how much of a grip a weak, frail human like you has on him. A strong breeze could probably knock you off your feet, meanwhile, he has God-like powers. Yet he feels like a fool in your presence. He complains about how needy you are but in an instant, he is ordering someone to bring you a glass of water or extra blankets. Grumbles about how fragile you are but he holds you so gently, you wonder if it’s still Scaramouche. When you’re around, he tends to keep his voice down and not yell at others, since he doesn’t want to accidentally make you feel worse. Scaramouche is still his snarky self, but it’s noticeable how much he observes you, matching his pace to yours even if you’re walking slowly as hell, stopping with you to look at the scenery.

Despite all his whining, not gonna lie, if you collapse on him, he will probably freak out. If he had a heart, it would be thump-thump-thumping, but in its place is just an ache and unsettling feeling. Instantly catches you but his mind goes to the worse, knowing how fleeting your life was. Would move faster than the speed of lightning to get you help, and would not leave for side for anything. Waking up to Scaramouche’s hand intertwined with you and his head facing down into the sheets was not something you expected. In fact, he acts more vulnerable than you, ordering you (which, in reality, is more like a plea) to get better soon.

If you died, any remnants of love and kindness would just… extinguish. Anything in sight is being thrown, crushed, electrocuted. If the sickness was caused by the Tatarigami plaguing Inazuma, he would be especially furious. He would curse everything, everyone. The God, his creator, who abandoned him and let you get this sick. The doctors who were too useless to do anything. But he would curse himself the most, for being so weak, and not being able to do anything for the one person who actually gave a damn about him, now fated to wander Teyvat by himself for eternity. (But… reincarnation AU, anyone?)

Arlecchino:

Arlecchino is a silent yet watchful and hands-on partner. She observes you closely to see if your condition is acting up, or if you’re starting to feel ill. She is the kind of person who wouldn’t allow anything bad to happen since she picks up on your cues. Often times Arlecchino would scold the orphans for bothering you so much but you’d always reassure her that you didn’t mind. Whenever you try to lie about how well you’re feeling, she always narrows her eyes at you and makes you lie back down. Nothing can get past her. I also think she has a great soup recipe due to her experience with children, so you’ll definitely be fed some good food.

If you died, it would seem that there was no change in Arlecchino to the Fatui recruits. Same stone cold face and dead eyes. Same harsh voice that spat out orders. And they would be right, outwardly at least. Inwardly, however, was a completely different story. When a wound is healing, it hurts the most when it’s targeted. If her heart wasn’t hurt before, now it felt like it was completely broken, just when you were starting to piece it back together. When she looks at the children playing, she envisions you running after them too, but the only thing there is the shadows of the kids. When she’s walking through the halls, she anticipates you trying to creep up on her unknowingly and give her a back hug, but now all she hears is her own intense footsteps. When she’s doing paperwork, she expects to see you trying to sneak sugar into her coffee… but you won’t ever be here to do those simple things again.

La Signora:

La Signora treats you like glass. She is especially overprotective of you because she greatly fears losing you. You have the best maids and servants tending to your every need. She’d rather you not exert more energy than you have to. When she’s not around, she sends her little flame moths with sweet messages to you, in hopes of making you smile. She is scared about you going out by yourself since you could get sick so easily. So whenever you need a breath of fresh air, she makes sure to bundle you up in the finest coats. Also has her moths flutter around you for heat. Signora is very tall, so I think she would like to sit you on her lap and do simple things with her. I think she secretly craves a domestic life with her lover after she was robbed of it so long ago. She’d want to play with your hair, press you into her soft chest, make origami butterflies together.

If you died, the ice that previously surrounded her heart would swallow her up again. No more teasing you, hooking her finger under your chin, and kissing you. No more mock fashion shows where she helped to dress you in the most gorgeous clothes and the two of you would pose for pictures for the Kamera. It seemed as though the Gods would tear anyone she loved away from her without hesitation. She suffered the loss of her love once, but for it to happen twice? The pain was unbearable but Rosalyne sealed her feelings up once again. Coldness and ruthlessness returned to mask her true feelings, for if she didn’t, she feared she might not be able to handle it.

Pantalone:

Pantalone wants you to see and do anything you want. You want to go to Liyue to attend the Lantern Rite? He’s clearing his schedule to come with you. You want some obscure item? He’s searching all the markets and buying it, no matter the cost. You picked up some hobby to pass the time? He’s indulging you with the most expensive and efficient equipment to help you with it. He wants you to have the most stress-free, easy, and happy life, so you can just focus on recovering and getting better. Every day, you’ll be visited by a new doctor, repeating the same old questions about how you feel, but Pantalone reassures you that they’re working on something for your health. He’s thankful that his position in the Fatui allows him to stay in Snezhnaya most of the time because he worries about you every minute of the day. The kind of guy who would have a status report on your health sent to his office every hour.

If you died, behind closed doors, his smile would immediately drop, now feeling like it was a heavy burden just to quirk his lips. He had access to the best doctors, medicines, and even bought ancient remedies long forgotten. Yet it was all fruitless. The Mora that he once loved to feel slip through his fingers sickened him. What was all the money he had worth? It couldn’t buy your life back.

Sandrone:

If you want her to, she could probably hook you up with some robotic/prosthetic limbs. But she’ll never want to make you a full robot. You’re not one of her experiments, you’re her lovely lover. At first, she was okay with you going on walks. Well, it wasn’t really a walk because a Ruin Guard just carried you in its hand. But she never did that again when the robot returned with you collapsed and unconscious. Needless to say, the project Sandrone was working on is immediately dropped and now she’s taking extra precautions. I feel as though she would hook up a camera to her caretaker robots so she can be updated on your conditions at all times. When you’re sick, Sandrone likes to make cute robot animals, (which is something she never dreamed of wasting time on before she met you) to bring you little things. Maybe photos of some scenery she took might brighten your day. Or little short but sweet notes. The one that always makes you laugh is when it brings you a clipboard to fill out your daily assessment.

If you died, it would feel like she herself turned into a robot. Wake up, experiment in her lab for an ungodly amount of hours, forget to eat and sleep. Rinse and repeat. Her life was constant now that you, the variable, were gone. Sandrone had a bed for you in her lab so you could watch her while she tinkered with some mechanical parts. It was mostly you talking while she fiddled but your voice bouncing off the walls was pleasant. But now it was silent, only the squeaking of wrenches and screwdrivers remained. She felt emptier than any puppet.

Childe:

He’s the kind of person who excitedly grips your hand and tells you about all the fun and lively activities you two will do together when your health improves. He wakes you up every morning, sunlight pouring into the room and the smell of breakfast cooking (and him in an apron.) Loves to serve you breakfast in bed, spoon-feeding you while the two of you plan what the day will be like. You want to just stay in and relax? Great, he’s got some of Teucer’s favorite story books to read together. You want to go for a stroll? He’s already got the route marked and the picnic basket ready. Childe would manage to carry you and like ten other bags at the same time just to impress you. Also, he is your personal hype man. Even when you’re terribly sick, he’s there to motivate you and sing your praises about how strong you are.

If you died, he would feel lost. The abyss snatched a piece of his heart away already, but he felt even more hollow now. You were the only thing that made Childe forget about being a weapon for the Tsaritsa for a while. When he was away on missions, he enjoyed reading your letters about how you were supposedly getting better. In the middle of a battlefield he would flip through photos of you and his heart would swell in anticipation for the future. But as Teucer and his siblings wail and cling to his legs, and it takes all of Ajax’s strength to not break down in front of them too. When he’s alone though, he silently sobs into your old clothes and bed sheets.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #capitano x reader #dottore x reader #pantalone x reader #scaramouche x reader #childe x reader #pierro x reader #columbina x reader #arlecchino x reader #la signora x reader #sandrone x reader #il dottore x reader #fatui harbingers x reader #fatui x reader #capitano genshin #genshin dottore #pantalone genshin #fragile reader <3

[writing-for-marvel]

can you do something of steve rogers like you’ve both kinda had feelings for each other but never said anything and one day you went to go hang out with him and caught him jerking off 🫣

Nonnie, you like the idea of Steve jerking off thinking about you and moaning your name? Me too

At Your Service

Bodyguard!Steve Rogers x Diplomats Daughter!Fem!Reader

PART 2 > >

Summary: As your bodyguard it’s Steve’s job to look out for you, when you find him in a compromising position, it becomes your turn to look after him.

Warnings: strictly 18+ only, NSFW, masturbation, blowjob, dynamic where Steve is meant to be protecting reader and they catch feelings

Word count: 2.3k (I really did try to keep this short, oops)

A/N: thank you for this inspiration nonnie, I hope you enjoy 💙 banners by @maysdigitalarts

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Taglist | Library

It was hard to sneak glances at someone whose job it was to literally watch your every move. But Steve Rogers was worth attempting to steal glances at.

Even when he wasn’t wearing the tight fitting tux he was currently donning to fit in with the smartly dressed crowd of high ranking officials and diplomats, your personal bodyguard Steve Rogers looked like a god carved from stone.

You had to will yourself not to continually stare at the man, but every now and again, you occasionally allowed yourself the selfish pleasure of a short glimpse.

And even though it was his job to keep you safe, to watch over you as if his life depended on it, it never failed to make your stomach flip and heart flutter to find him already looking at you.

Steve was always the first to assert that his detail of you was strictly business, purely a job to earn a living. Keeping you safe meant keeping his assignment.

But he could never quite mask the hint of tenderness in his eyes that only existed when he looked at you, and the anxious, desperate need to know you were safe when he lost you in a crowd for five seconds seemed to go well beyond his obligation as purely your bodyguard.

After a long night of shaking hands and faking smiles, all to please your father who only brought you along to give the appearance he was the charming, family man, you trudged from the large function room to your hotel room upstairs for a well deserved night's sleep.

As per protocol, your bodyguard had to perform a sweep of the room upon arrival, ensuring that everything was safe for your stay.

“Make sure you stay away from the windows-” Steve warns, closing the curtains even though it was pitch black in the cool night outside.

“Don’t make myself an easy target, I know.” You finish his sentence knowing his spiel word for word by now, prompting a bashful smile to curve on his lips. There’s a glint of pride in his eyes, as if he was never sure if you were ever listening to his security ramblings, but now knew for certain you had been.

An awkward silence fills the room as neither of you quite know how to bid each other goodnight. You didn’t want to remove the warm blanket of security Steve’s presence never fails to provide.

You always thanked him for his proficiency in protecting you. But a simple thank you didn’t even begin to cover the many ways in which you were grateful for him.

Steve wanted to tell you all night how beautiful he thought you looked, but you’d heard that same praise from every gentleman who greeted you tonight - it wasn’t exactly the refreshing compliment he needed to be able to convey just how much he adored you.

He knew how smart you were, how you could run rings around anyone in attendance this evening with your wit and intellect, and that your role as the good natured daughter was one you were far over qualified for. But you didn’t need an uneducated, glorified chaperone to tell you that.

If there was one thing Steve Rogers was certain about, it was that he would never be good enough for you. Only in his dreams did he deserve you.

So, instead of voicing aloud the continuous stream of praises he had overtime come to think of you, he settled for a simple “I’ll be right next door if you need me.”

“Thank you.” You want to sound more eloquent than the same words you always used to commend him after each of his assignments, but no string of words you could think of in this moment seemed to truly encapsulate how highly you regard him.

Being around him makes it hard to think.

So instead, you rise to your tiptoes, lean over and place a delicate kiss to his cheek. With flushed pink cheeks, Steve flashes you a kind smile before disappearing into the next room, taking your sense of security and your heart with him.

It takes you a couple minutes to escape the elaborate dress you’ve been wearing all day, but finally you’re able to breathe properly again. Putting on some sweats, you’re caught tossing between letting your tiredness consume you and going straight to bed, or if you should take some time to decompress and watch a movie.

However, it’s your name, muttered as a strained moan, which catches your attention as you’re trying to make up your mind.

At first you think you’re imagining it - it’s been a long day and you must be on the brink of delusion with exhaustion. Perhaps going straight to sleep is the best option.

But then you hear it again, coming from the door Steve walked through just minutes prior.

And that’s when you see it - the door slightly ajar.

When you hear your name again, and you know for a fact that it isn’t all in your imagination, your curiosity gets the better of you and you decide to take a quick peak before promising to shut the door.

But when your eyes land on Steve’s large figure sitting at the end of the bed, pumping his fist over the largest dick you’d ever seen and hearing your name cascade as moans from his lips, you know you can’t simply shut the door and let him continue by himself in the next room.

If it weren’t for the alcohol in your system from the couple glasses of wine you’d had at the event earlier in the night, you’re not sure you would’ve had the courage to pass the door threshold, but your feet seemed to have a mind of their own, driven by the desire between your legs.

Hearing your name more clearly once you enter his room gives you the boost of self confidence you need to make your presence known. It isn’t until you close the door behind you, the latch clicking, does Steve finally realise you’ve caught him in the act.

The tips of his cheekbones and ears blush bright red as he frantically stuffs his fully erect and leaking cock back into his pants, mumbling an incoherent mess of embarrassed apologies and profanities. His bright, sky blue eyes can’t quite meet yours directly as you approach him near the end of the bed.

“Don’t get shy on me now, Stevie.” You smile flirtatiously. He opens his mouth to apologise again, or perhaps to berate you for waking in on such a private moment, you’ll never know as you interrupt him before he can get a word out.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret-” You drop your voice and lean in closer so he’s able to feel your warm breath against his ear lobe, “I’ve gotten off to the thought of you too.”

The surprise in his eyes, which is also shown as a sharp intake of breath, is quickly drowned out by lust as he surges forward, large hands cupping your face as he kisses you passionately.

The feeling of his soft, plump lips moving against yours is better than anything you’ve ever dreamed of. As his tongue slips into your mouth, your hands roam down his toned body, searching for his thick cock you got a glimpse of earlier.

Before you’re able to get your hands on anything valuable, Steve breaks the kiss, shaking his head as he pulls away.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” He states unconvincingly, feebly keeping you at arms length. The glaringly obvious erection in his pants contradicting his words. “My job is to protect you.” He tries to further justify, but he’s doing a terrible job at being convincing.

“So let me thank you for it.”

A timid chuckle is not the response you’re expecting, but there’s a conflict raging like a storm behind Steve’s eyes which you’re much more focussed on relieving. It takes him a moment to muster the courage to decide to speak on his turmoil.

“Princess, you mean a lot more to me than just a quick fuck.” His voice is shy, his eyes vulnerable, as if they are about to shatter like glass.

“Stevie…” There are feelings you’re unable to verbalise, that are left unsaid, only conveyed in a knowing, tender and affectionate glance. “Please, let me help you finish what you started.”

Steve gulps back the nervous lump in his throat before nodding his head. Those same wide, blue eyes that you’re so used to protectively watching over you now keenly observe your every movement as you push him back on the bed, sinking to your knees and tugging his pants down to his ankles by the belt loops.

Just like Steve himself, his dick is gloriously and deliciously large - heavy and exquisitely thick in the palm of your hand. His flushed red tip weeping precum has you licking your lips in anticipation, you can’t wait to finally taste him.

Though you’re unsure if your mouth is capable of taking all of his magnificent length, you’re always up for a challenge.

Placing a couple of teasing kisses to the soft, sensitive skin of the inside of his muscular thigh, moving closer to his twitching cock with each one, you look up at Steve to find his warm gaze watching you with a mixture of endearment and excited anticipation, prompting a surge of devotion to bloom in your chest.

You start by spreading his precum along his slit with your thumb. A tortured whine escapes Steve’s lips as you lick a stripe up the underside of his shaft, and with a smug smirk, knowing that you haven’t even begun the most pleasurable part of the experience, you swirl your tongue around his tip.

As you take him fully in your mouth for the first time, a strained gasp of your name falls past his lips, followed by a rumbling moan from the back of his throat. You keep pushing yourself further down his length, stretching your jaw as wide as it will go, wrapping your hand around what you can’t fit in your mouth.

Steve’s drawn out fuuccckkkkk as you hollow your cheeks and drag your mouth back up his member only spurs you on, determined to take every inch. Slowly swallowing his shaft until his tip hits the back of your throat, you continue the routine until you’re gagging on his entire dick, your throat exquisitely squeezing his tip, your nose nuzzles his pubes, and tears trickle from the corners of your eyes.

“Shit Princess, oh fuck, yes, just like that.” Steve’s hand finds the back of your head to keep you choking on his cock until you gently slap his thighs, the sign you need to pull away for air.

The saliva drooling from your mouth as you draw back makes Steve groan. With this lubrication, you start to pump his member, taking a second to catch your breath, but you’re already obsessed with the feel and taste of his thick cock in your mouth, so once you’re ready, you relax your jaw and begin devouring him again.

When you look up at him through your lashes, meeting his gaze as you sink further down him, the erotic sound he makes goes straight to your pussy, and you can feel the pool of wetness soaking through your panties.

When you start cupping and fondling his balls while simultaneously gagging on his cock, he throws his head back and you know he’s done for.

“Fuck, Princess.” Steve’s breathing is shallow and you can feel his balls start to contract under your light touch. “Please, I’m gonna cum.”

You can tell he’s expecting you to stop so you can tell him where you want him to cum on you.

But there’s not a chance.

You want to taste every part of him, and that includes every drop of his cum. You don’t ease up, continuing to suck the life out of him at a relenting pace until you feel his warm spend shooting to the back of your throat, before you finally give him some relief.

“Holy shit.” Steve sighs as he heaves for air, watching you show him the remainder of his climax on your tongue before swallowing in one gulp.

Even though you’ve just performed a lewd act, your chin covered with your own spittle and have the remnants of dried rivers of tears over your cheeks, originating from the corners of your eyes, Steve still looks at you with warmth and adoration.

“Stay with me tonight?” He asks before you even have the chance to catch your breath from how he’s looking at you. He chuckles at your surprise, before continuing with a smile. “I did say you meant more to me than just a quick fuck, and I meant it.”

You stand up from your position on your knees, never once breaking eye contact, before you lean in to kiss him. You’ve only had one taste, but you’re already addicted to him, needing your fix and wanting to get high on the taste of him any chance he gives you.

Once you’re again mesmerised by how his lips feel on yours, Steve’s phone starts ringing continuously on the bedside table. Reluctantly, he pulls away from you to check on it.

“Shit.” He swears under his breath as he quickly types and sends a message, punctuating it with a large sigh. “There’s been a security breach - I’m sorry but I have to go.” The severe disappointment in both his voice and his eyes makes you feel slightly better about his imminent departure.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you.” He says, rushing to get his trousers back on, but making sure to stop his hurry to give you a sweet kiss before he leaves.

“I’m holding you to that.” You mumble against his lips before you watch him shrug on his tuxedo jacket and head out the door.

Part 2 > >

To be tagged in any potential additional instalments of this AU, please add yourself to the taglist here

#em writes #Steve Rogers #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x reader #Steve Rogers smut #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers fic #steve rogers au #bodyguard au #captain america x reader #captain america x you #Captain America x y/n #Captain America smut #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfic #mcu fanfiction #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #marvel smut #mcu smut #writing for marvel

[myownwutheringheights]

Matt comes home from his daredevil duties to sense that your not home. He knew this could only mean you were training late again at the boxing studio. Matt becomes worried with how much your not sleeping or coming home since you found out his secret. He gets to the studio to see you on your second punch bag with bloody knuckles and no intention in stopping. Angst/fluffy ending.

If We Survive The Great War

AN: I love this nonny! Thanks for the request. Hope this satisfies. Inspired by the new Taylor Swift song because at this point my whole Marvel inspired playlist is just her. As always, gif credit ^ goes to the original creator. I know literally nothing about boxing, I'm just trying my best. This got out of hand and went longer than I intended. What is editing? Love you, mean it.

Fandom: Daredevil

Pairing: Matt Murdock x f! reader (established relationship)

Rating: M. MINORS DNI

Warnings: Canon typical angst & blood, language, fear of the loss of a loved one. Crying/panic attack like event. Discussion of Matt's abilities/powers, Mentions of periods/ovulation/discussion of sex because I can't help myself. Squint and there's a sentence of blasphemy. Matt Murdock is still his own warning

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Matt silently entered the apartment from the roof access. It's so late it's almost early. His boots barely made a sound on the steps, the rain outside was far louder as he came to the main level of his apartment....well, your apartment. Or it had been. Until you'd learned the truth about his double life, the secret part of him and his abilities that he'd tried to keep you protected from.

He'd managed to keep the two halves of his life separate for a long time. After you took the big step and moved in, it had become harder and harder to keep the secret. Till it had become impossible.

Till you learned you were dating the Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

You lived with him. Shared your bed with him.

When you'd seen him in the suit, all maroon and black, bully sticks and horns…. you'd run. And you'd been running ever since. You slept less than him. You were spending more time at Fogwell's, exhausted, punching bags, often imagining it was his face. Angry that you knew what this place meant to him and yet he'd shared it with you, and it tugged at your heartstrings when you just wanted to be angry. He'd carefully picked what he'd chosen to share. And he hadn't shared the most important thing.

If you weren't at the gym you'd been staying more often with friends, crashing at their places; moving from couch to couch to cope with the revelation and all he'd subsequently shared.

It had all been too much.

Out there he was the Man Without Fear. But right now? He had one fear.

Losing you.

Matt doesn't even call out your name; he knows you aren't there. He hears no other heartbeat, no familiar rhythm. Your scent is barely there. Aside from him, the apartment is empty, the rain on the windows reverberating through the place.

Sometimes you’ve been kind enough to text him where you’re staying, just so he doesn’t get worried. But not tonight; text to speech said he had no new messages. He cursed and goes to the bedroom. He reached out to nudge the spot near the bed where you keep your gym bag. Same spot. Every time. It was gone. He cursed again for a man who does a lot of things, but doesn’t always curse (unless he’s in bed).

He hadn’t been by your side in days; he knew damn well you weren’t sleeping, probably hadn't slept in days, and had no idea if you were ok. Concern fills his chest like a gaping chasm. The back of his neck felt the prickling coldness of fear.

He had to know you were safe.

He changes into sweats and an old t-shirt, throws on a sweatshirt and grabs the sunglasses he always wears and heads out to find you. He’d faced Fisk head on. And the Hand.

Why did going into this battle scare him more?

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

You hear the door open behind you in the otherwise nearly dark and completely empty gym. Anger bristles in your core and twits like vines inside you going up your body as your muscles tighten with it. It makes you punch harder. Faster.

Instantly, the metallic tang fills his nostrils, the taste of it in Matt's mouth. Blood. Your blood. His jaw sets as he steps inside, not speaking. Not yet. He doesn't seem to care he's dripping water on the floor or that he's soaking wet from the rain. Even in your anger, he knew in your gym bag was his old Columbia sweatshirt he'd let you borrow but you'd promptly stollen and wore all the time. It smelled perfectly of both of you. He turned from the bag towards you. Right here, right now everything in him is attuned to you; his worry, his concern.

He knows this place by heart. Very inch and every corner. So when his foot comes in contact with the discarded punching bag on the floor that normally isn't there, he knows it's gone too far. Too far, for too long.

You're exhausted. And yet he knows you have no plan on stopping.

He keeps exploring for just a moment; next to the bag were your gloves that you'd ditched first, and most likely awhile ago. Next to them, the wrappings for your hands. It hadn't felt right having your hands covered. The bite of the bag as you hit it again and again and again feels good because it makes you feel something.

Your knuckles had been red an hour ago. You should have stopped. Now they were raw and bleeding. It had been too long on the bags but it didn't matter.

Matt bends and picks up the wrappings. He gives you wide birth as you keep swinging, walking around to the other side of the bag.

"You're bleeding." His voice is even and low.

"And you're full of shit, Murdock." Your words are sharp, and you're ready to fight. You cut a mean right hook, going extra wide, and Matt dodges out of the way. You shake your head, letting out a breath of too many emotions to count or name. "You shouldn't be able to know that Matt! But you do. You hid so much from me." You're only just beginning to learn the depths of what he's capable of. What he can do. And you've only scratched the surface. Those red sunglasses are what stare back in your direction. The image of the mask with those expressionless and empty red eyes flashes in your mind. "I trusted you!" You let loose another punch and once more it's wide, making your form falter. He steps out of the way again. You shake your head once more, still trying to grasp everything he has told you.

Because yes, he's told you everything. In hopes to hold onto you, in hopes to keep you in his life, he'd shared his story like opening up a wound, exposing every scar; the full details of the accident and his heightened sense, how he'd fought and trained most of his life. He told you how the Devil of Hell's Kitchen had come into existence. How he, Foggy and Karen had worked to take down Fisk. He'd left no stone unturned, no secret unrevealed.

But it was still all so new. So much.

"Tell me," you bark at him, but the words sound more pitiful and sad than angry. "Tell me again just how strong these senses of yours are? Remind me just how much you've been able to know about me. Spare no detail. I want to know." He doesn't say a word. It makes the anger boil over and you turn away from the punching bag for the first time in the brutal two hour session. "Tell me Matt!"

He takes in and lets out the longest of breaths.

"Yes, I knew you were bleeding when I walked in. I can use a "spacial method" to know what's going on around me so I can fight and I knew when to dodge your punches. It's how I can fight out there. I also know you need to lower your elbow when you throw a right hook; it's too high. Me saying that really pissed you off.....You're giving me the middle finger right now.....I know you don't like looking at the sunglasses either at the moment; it's making you uncomfortable, because every time you turn to look my way you see the sunglasses and look away. Beyond that? I know you try to seem like you like more expensive wine than you do. You're happy with a cheap moscato but seem to think I'll judge you for it because you lie about the brand and think I haven't noticed. I know when you found a new favorite candle brand a few months ago and have been switching all the scents over to it because the wax itself smelled different as it burned. I know before you came here you stopped at our favorite Italian place after walking past our favorite Irish pub because you were likely reminiscing and you had red wine which means you're in a hell of a mood. And it's not settling well after working out this hard for this long."

He pauses. You say nothing. Because it's still shock. Matt takes another step forward.

"You want more? Fine. I know you better than your cycle tracking app, I know when you're bleeding and when you've stopped before you tell me. I know when you're ovulating because your scent changes and it drives me absolutely fucking wild and I can't keep my hands off you. I know me saying this makes you feel embarrassed for some reason but it also turns you on, which I know because I can sense that based on your heart rate, body temperature and I can smell it. You also get turned on when I practice closing arguments... and sometimes in church? But that's something to talk about later. Saying that made you want to hit me again; your heart rate spiked with anger. And I knew when the scent of salt in the air here switched from sweat to tears. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

You nod defiantly, fighting back both the tears he mentioned and more anger. You don't say a word. You go back to punching the now bloody bag, unwilling to give up the fight just yet.

"Are you ever going to be able to forgive me?" He finally asks, and it sounds nearly like a desperate plea. You bite at your lip. Can you? It's so much to digest; you've been an open book to him for so long and you had no idea. It feels like a betrayal. He truly knows everything about you, and here you are just learning the truth of his life and his world. It makes you feel so unbelievably foolish and vulnerable.

...and it makes you feel unspeakably sad.

Because on the nights when he didn't answer the phone or canceled dates it meant he had been out there. Being Daredevil. And every time there could have been a chance he never came back.

You sniffle once and keep your focus on the brutal battle your hands are facing. You're wincing now with every throw. God, you're so fucking exhausted.

"Y/n, you need to stop." You punch the bag harder, the smell of blood gets stronger. Every punch feels like it's landing on his chest. "You're hurting yourself."

"You hurt yourself every time you go out there in that suit!" You scream out, the words tearing through you like a knife. There it is. There's an edge to your voice, covering up the tears that had now fully misted over your eyes. Your hands are killing you but so are his secrets. What you could lose....that's killing you too.

You could lose him.

Your heart is clenched tight with the tears building up. The pressure valve on your emotions about to break free to release the crushing burden inside you.

You punch out once more, and with speed unlike anything you can can imagine, Matt catches your fist in his palm, taking the brunt of the blow. You cry out at the pain as he holds you there. "Enough...." his voice is barely above a whisper. Your shoulders begin to shake, everything about to give way. He waves the white flag. "If you're that angry at me then hit me. I won't move. Go on. Hit me."

You burst out into sobs and collapse in his arms.

He grips you safely and securely in his strong arms as he slowly lowers you both to the floor, your hands clutching his soaking wet sweatshirt as you cry and cry. He only takes his hand away from you to take off the sunglasses, setting them aside on the ground so you could see his entire face.

He touches your fists, knuckles bloody on top and white underneath from clinging to him so tightly. As if you could hold on tight enough that he'd never leave your side again. He helps you release your right hand first, lifting it to his mouth and he brushes his lips to the top of your damaged hand. You hiss out through the tears at the contact but at the same time it feels so soothing, so comforting. He takes your left hand next and does the same; a gentle few kisses to the top of your hand.

He releases them and your hands move across his clothes, to all the places that you know underneath show brutal scars. "Oh, Matty..." it starts another wave of sobs. You'd had no idea before where those scars had come from. Now you did. He pulls you in so tight, hugging and keeping you so close and rocking you back and forth, hands moving up and down your back as he tries to calm you down.

"Shhh...it's ok. It's ok. I know. It's a lot - "

"It's a shit ton, Matt!" You whine out. He nods, keeps rocking you back and forth. "I'm just scared. I can't lose you..." You fight to move your hand up to caress his cheek.

"I know. And I shouldn't have kept all of this from you for as long as I did, and I'm sorry for that. I was just trying to keep you safe, sweetheart," he kisses the top of your head, moving his hands to move his fingers softly through your hair, just keeping you close to him.

"And who keeps you safe, Daredevil?" You ask looking up at him, gazing up at his face, those sinfully beautiful eyes. It's the first time you've called him that without anger, but with love. Your breathing has started to calm, heart rate lowering as you two talked it through.

"You do, Y/n." You snort and have to wipe your nose. "I mean it. You....you ground me. You gave my life more meaning. Even more purpose. Yes, I'm passionate about the the work I do, and I love and protect my city. But before... I went out and there were days that if I didn't come back I would have considered it worthy to give my life and my body for New York. But I fight harder now, for you, for us. For our future. I fight harder to come home to you. I have just as much to lose now. Both Matt Murdock, Daredevil.... my life and my body don't just belong to this city anymore." He reaches out and he touches your bloody hands to his chest and his heart. "They belong to you. If you'll have them."

You throw your arms around him, launching yourself at him, knocking you both to the ground of gym floor. Accepting him. All of him. Every side and every piece of him. And he embraces you back all the same, kissing you, clinging to you. Wiping away what remained of the tears.

Together you stand. You pick up his sunglasses up off the floor and hand them to him.

"Come on....let's get out of here. I can take care of these," Matt says holding your hands, kissing them both one more time. "And then we're both taking a nap. Are these acceptable terms?"

You nod, resting your head against his chest letting out a sleep sight. "Sure thing counsellor." Exhausted, you wrap your arms around him, hold him close, hold him tight. So he never forgets to come back and come home to you. Matt hugs you back just as tight, silently promising that as long as it was within his power, he would always come home to you.

"Matt? I love you. All of you." He kisses the top of your head in return.

"I love you too. So much, sweetheart." He gives you one more kiss as the sun begins to rise on another day in Hell's Kitchen. "Let's go home."

No more battles. No more half truths. It was real. It felt like a promise, a bigger commitment than even moving in together or sharing secret identities.

It felt like forever

#daredevil #Matt Murdock #marvel #marvel mcu #mcu #daredevil born again #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfiction #daredevil fanfiction #charlie cox supremacy #charlie cox #answered #matt murdock fanfic #fanfiction #daredevil x you #daredevil x y/n #matt murdock x you

[aheathen-conceivably]

Hi! I’m a huge fan of your work (Josephine, in particular, has my heart! Gio, I tolerate… sorry 🫣), so, firstly, thank you for sharing your lovely creative mind with us.

Second, I hope it’s okay to ask a question! There’s a specific story idea that’s been rattling around in my head for ages now, but try as I might, I can’t seem to make it into anything concrete. I have a few things down (mostly snatches of dialogue, basic facts like character names, and start/end points - i.e. “z and a start as enemies but eventually fall in love”) but I’m struggling to connect point a with point b and actually make it, yknow, a story. Do you have any sage advice/pro tips/divinely-inspired guidance for making a handful of loose ends into something real and fit for Tumblr consumption? Lol.

Thank you in advance!

Hello, there! First and foremost let me apologize for some particular writer out there (ahem, it is me) who may have just gotten herself out of a real bad slump by making Gio a main character 😂

I am SORRY y’all I wasn’t supposed to like him this much I was a Jo girlie forever but now, well, the heart wants what the heart wants. Make no mistake Jo still has my heart but…can’t a girl have both? Y’all out here taking sides already oh my goodness I can’t wait to see y’all for the rest of this decade 😜

Now WHEW! Let me also say I appreciate your kindness about the story. I wish I had more advice for you, but I’m afraid I fell into this without much creative or really any writing background at all, so I’m not sure I’m the source for sage advice. Other than going on my resource page for other tricks that might be helpful, what I will tell you is to write every damn thing down. Like I mean it, one line of dialogue, one idea, one thought. I have stuff everywhere, under to do lists, in massive documents, in scribbles on the back of bills. Eventually I do try and organize it (and this would probably be the time to tell you to maybe not put it in random places where it’s hard to find later 😅), but I’m often shocked at what a small little tidbit later turns into.

As far as connecting those tidbits (which bravo for having them, that’s already more than I did for some parts of the story!), I honestly just feel like the more you write and inhabit the mindset of your little world, the more it comes to you when you aren’t thinking about it. Thanks to my boy Gio (please see above oops) I have been writing nonstop. Chopping onions, folding clothes, driving, just trying to live my life and a scene is playing out in my head. Now mind you, this comes after over a month without a single thought of the story, so it is a process that waxes and wanes.

I would also say not to get frustrated with yourself too early, as again, I think the process of getting into your story is a snowball effect. My early decades had much less going on, and that’s very much for a reason. The process moves with you. That means that I don’t really think there’s a benchmark for “fit for Tumblr consumption.” Doing it is practicing it, and the community is very welcoming to changing style and voice as your work goes on.

Just write my Nonny friend, write whenever your brain tells you to and don’t be afraid to share. And then fall in love with Gio with me 😙

#ask #answered #resources

[freyafrida]

i'm assuming the rec they're referring to is this lovely post by @gogandmagog, to whom i must thank for unearthing this fic, lol. i wrote this chapter back in 2012(!!!) so unfortunately i don't remember what exactly i had in mind for shirley and pencil girl (love that nickname), or if i even had more of a story in mind. i don't see myself writing another chapter for arco iris (although never say never?) BUT i did have some vague headcanons and influences so i will share them!

anyway. what did shirley say to her afterwards? i didn't have a full idea for this in my head and i'm of two minds about it! i can see him just ignoring it because whatever, he's not interested in getting his name written up on the side of the schoolhouse and it's none of his business why Pencil Girl decided to, apparently, lose her mind one day after school. i can also see him being pretty straightforward and asking her about it and being completely embarrassed that she's sweet on him and again, having zero interest in getting his name put on a Take Notice.

either way, they both pretend it didn't happen for a few years, but Pencil Girl never quite gives up her little crush on him, and she and shirley grow to be friends in adolescence after he gets over being flustered by her existence. they exchange sympathetic letters during the war, maybe get into wacky adventures as college kids, and fall in love along the way. the end.

so, some background: this is very niche, but as a kid, i was very into the boy/girl battle series by phyllis reynolds naylor (which i also wrote fic for in 2012 -- maybe that spilled into arco iris?). i didn't do it consciously, but in hindsight, i think i was inspired by the dynamic between the characters wally and caroline. wally is the most introverted of his brothers, thoughtful and quietly imaginative, while caroline is an attention-seeking theater kid who drags wally into her mischief. they're both annoyed by each other because they're middle schoolers, but they're also both imaginative and slightly lonely because everyone thinks they're weird, and they find they (unwillingly) understand each other on that more fundamental level. anyway! it's not a 1:1 comparison, but i think i was imagining shirley/pencil girl from a similar place. we know shirley isn't totally opposed to mischief (see "well-deserved spankings" in RV) and while we also know he hates to be badgered with chatter per RoI, i was also picturing him as a bit matthew cuthbert-esque, where he doesn't mind exuberance as long as he's not expected to actually respond in kind (that's how i interpret "badgering", anyway).

i was also semi-influenced by the dynamic between kyon and haruhi in the melancholy of haruhi suzumiya, haha. obviously none of this is evident in that very short chapter, but uh, that's the backstory if you're interested, or if it gives an idea of how the rest of the story might go!

i also was actually influenced by the jenny penny section of anne of ingleside! i first read that book as a teenager and tbh i took the jenny penny section and all its judgment about Dirty Houses and Fighting Adults and Not Saying Your Prayers a leetle personally, lmao. i found the blythes pretty snobbish in that story* (this livejournal post is a pretty good summary of how i felt about anne of ingleside at the time). so i also had the loose headcanon of the blythes having to deal with someone a little socially inappropriate, who they wouldn't approve of very much. again, this was way too much to be evident in the actual chapter, but this is where the whole "girl who kisses rando boys in classrooms" concept came from, if you're interested.

anyway that's how shirley/pencil girl would've gone. hope this didn't ruin it for you, nonny, and thank you for reading ❤️

* i mean, upon reread, there are actual issues with the pennys: jenny is a more intentional liar than anne ever was, and the grandma makes di show her her underwear??? weird. but also jenny is, like, the lone realistically troubled child in a book of unusually twee children, and i found her surprisingly sympathetic for that reason. anyway. i had feelings.

#fic ramblings #arco iris #anne of green gables #shirley blythe #shirley x pencil girl #(lmao)

[fortpeat]

any ideas for some prapaisky ficlets? i am looking for some inspiration and you have the best ideas (:

Hey Nonnie 💖☺️

Aww I am honored you believe that I have "best ideas" 🥹😭 Thank you so much. So I am gonna divide it into two versions

AU version Stories / Canon version Stories

AU version

PrapaiSky first kiss if they had met first and garbage didn't exist.

Sky wooing Prapai first 🤭

Prapaisky Honeymoon in Bali (both of them tanned and beautiful wheww) in canon they honeymoon in Europe where Prapai shows all his favorite places

Canon version

Sky seeing what it's like when Prapai gets drunk. (P. S Prapai is extra sappy, shameless and horny.

What happens when Sky is the one who is drunk (P.S Sky starts singing and dancing and Prapai falls in love all over again)

Sky's graduation and Prapai's gift (most probably a vacation)

Them moving into their new condo and setting up

Furniture shopping (apparently Prapai thinks he's quite the interior designer) several debates 🤭 Sky winds lost of them obviously. He just uses his doe eyes and Prapai is gone

Sky to know that Prapai can actually cook. Really well. And asking Prapai to teach him as well ☺️

Prapai meeting Sky's dad for the first time. Definitely gets threatened but before he leaves Sky's dad thanks Prapai for loving his son and bringing back the sparkle in his eyes.

Hope these helps you Hun 🤭 (it's 1:15am and I could only come up with these for now) 😁😁 happy writing 💖

#love in the air #prapaisky #prapai x sky #lita #asks are always appreciated #fic ideas

[frostironfudge]

hi! congrats in 700 :)

🎟 mini movie theatre:

enemies to lovers (no smut please) with bucky barnes! maybe a bit of hurt/comfort and fluff!

thank you! :)

Between Your Hands I Find Peace

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.5k || Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Warnings: not canon compliant (set between Endgame and FATWS), fluff, angst, some violence, mutual pining, enemies to lovers, angst with happy ending, descriptions of bucky’s time under hydra, canon level violence, hurt/comfort, swear words, miscommunication trope as well, allusions to previous torture endured at the hands of hydra

A.N: hi lovely nonnie, thank you!! and especially thank you for sending in this request, it really inspired me and this is the first time i am writing this trope so i hope you enjoy it and thank you for participating in ‘frositonfudge’s funfair’! it means alot! 

Main Masterlist || frostironfudge's funfair masterlist

The scent of leather and mint greets your senses. Muscles tightening and then relaxing as everything turns blurry. You blink, then blink again trying to have the tears stay at bay. 

Distantly you can hear static, the dust and rubble not clouding the leather and mint as it grows closer. You feel your body tightening again, rigidity taking over as the scent grows closer. 

“Missed me?” He questions, you freeze, how had the voice matched this well? 

“Oh I know you did.” He comments, the barrel of the gun tracing along your shoulder, pausing against your spine. 

“Don’t—,” You try to whisper, but all that you can speak is a small insignificant squeak. Your eyes close. 

The man huffs out a laugh, walking around your body with his gun now at his side. 

“Shame, I thought the Avengers could have helped you.” He comments, you breathe in deeply. 

You focus on having each breath drawn deeper, your initial anxiety slowly fades. You know your muscles aren’t locking and the techniques to overcome panic you practiced with Natasha return to you. 

The man gleams, happiness at your downfall evident. 

“They did.” You say, grabbing his wrist, twisting it, the gun drops and your knee meets his nose. 

The man doubles over, groaning in pain. You twist his arm and your foot is against his back. He slumps to the floor. 

You grab the magazine from his gun and check his pockets, the ID tag now yours to hold. 

Moving into the next set of rooms, you check in on the comms. The door opens and you’re greeted by the sight of a poker faced Nick Fury and Sergeant Barnes’ glare. 

“That could have cost the team.” Is James Barnes’ first critique. 

“That move was sloppy, where is your form?” Second. 

“Wasting time taking his magazine despite know you have ammunition and time running out.” Third. 

“You cannot allow trauma to hamper your abilities.” Fourth. 

You keep your eyes on the blue eyed man who has you fuming. 

“I believe Director Fury’s words are more beneficial for me.” You speak to gritted teeth. 

The Sergeant flares his nostrils, anger seeping into him. You smile, pleased with his response. 

“You should know by now how to address with rank and respect,” James begins and you open your mouth to cut him off.

“Director Fury will speak now.” Nick Fury announces, his entire demeanour fed up of the bickering. 

“Work on your response. We can have more simulation but if you cannot handle things I will have to bench you as a desk agent.” He warns, “Barnes, she still is in your unit.” Nick says and then walks away. 

“Fuck you.” You sneer at James when the director walks out, shoving past him, he grabs your hand. 

You give him a glare but he already is glaring at you. 

“Right, you aren’t my type, sweetheart.” His tone irks you, you pull your hand out of his grip. 

“Three hundred push ups.” He says, blue eyes hard resembling deep frozen water. 

“I need to—,”

“You will do the mandated protocol after all those in my unit who fail their test have to go through. Or would you like to switch to Agent Andreas’ unit?” James raises an eyebrow and smirks. 

Agent Andreas would bench you on your file alone, only hand to hand teaching combat, paper work and nothing else. 

You look down at your hands, his flesh fingers curled around your wrist. When he takes them away, your skin almost misses him. 

Getting into the position you begin your mandated push ups. 

Sergeant Barnes remains standing eyes on your form counting your reps with the tap of his foot. 

Once you’re done, you kneel back, wiping the sweat off of your forehead. Looking up at him for the next part of the protocol. 

“Go back to your room, tomorrow 4:30 am, training grounds. Do not be late, or you will repeat this there as well.” He says, moving out of the simulation lab. 

Out of sheer annoyance you stick your tongue out at his back. 

“Sticking your tongue out isn’t proving your worth as an agent or a level headed adult. Rookie.” He speaks loud enough as he exits back still towards you. 

You grab your checked out weapon, returning to the department to give it back. 

It was fucking December. It was fucking cold and despite the biting chill you wanted to murder James Buchanan Barnes. 

He only smiled at you whenever you shot him a look back to glare at him for running laps around the track. This was probably the thirtieth one, he wasn’t even breaking a sweat. You felt weary.

“Stupid serum.” You mutter, turning back to look ahead. 

“Said something?” James questions from right beside you, lightly jogging to keep up with your run.

“Nope.” You mutter. 

“You could always concede. Why do you even want your own unit?” He questions clearly enjoying pissing you off. 

You stop, “You very well fucking know that.” You jab at his chest, panting. 

“Enlighten me.” He taunts. 

“You’re insufferable.” You seethe. 

“And you will always be second.” He declares. 

“I hate you.” 

“Not all that different here, sweetheart.” 

“Fuck this.” You’re done, done with his constant bullshit and getting on your nerves from day one.

“Even back at the base you were second in line. You still carry that forward years later.” He seethes, the regret isn’t instantaneous in his chest with the way your eyes widen and chin wobbles. 

“Listen up, Sergeant. You may have a tightly wound lid on your fucked up issues. You may have your trauma stay screaming in the dead of the night. Some of us have to live and breathe with it at every waking moment.” You begin to run across the track towards the exit. 

“You think I don’t get triggered on a daily basis?” He bellows, the crisp air biting at your cheeks and tearing eyes. 

“I do not care.” You turn, screaming back at him. 

He charges towards you, anger rolling off his shoulders in waves that would pull you into drowning. 

“Guess what? I don’t fucking care either. Don’t for one second think you’re the only one who had it worse.” He grabs your shoulders the contrast of his hands combined with the cold has you shiver. 

James is all too close, towering over you, nose almost touching his. His gaze falls to your lips and you copy his movement. 

“When did we turn into this despite escaping?” His words are so quiet you almost don’t catch them, the early morning is so silent you do hear every single syllable. 

Before you can respond, his hands leave your arms. The condensation of your breath is all that remains with you in his absence. 

Before.

“Ah, Soldat. Welcome your knew subordinates.” The voice is of the person who gives him his orders, they sound pleased. 

“Take a look, Soldat.” They command. 

He lifts his gaze, cataloguing everything into his mind. One has tied their laces wrong, the second is giving too much away. The third is tearing up as he moves his gaze over their form. The fourth and fifth are not meeting his eyes. 

The sixth, she stares right at him. As though shoving everything about him into categories. His eyes narrow in the slightest. 

“Ah, Soldat.” The earlier handler commends pleased, “It seems you have found our pick.”

Soldat keeps his eyes on the female, observing the way her gaze doesn’t break from his, her shoulders squared. She wasn’t afraid no, she was proud to be here. 

He tilts his head in the slightest, an emotion passes behind those eyes that seem to be her well guarded gateway. 

“Soldat, you shall be training her.” The handler announces. 

“First order of business. Teach her to shoot without issues at point blank range.” 

The remaining five recruits begin to run about, the room has no exits, bar the concealed door. 

You remain in place much to the Soldat’s surprise. He hands you a gun. It weighs heavy and you study it, your fingers wrap around the weapon. 

“Soldat, take a pick.” The handler speaks again, Soldat would scoff at the meagre freedom offered. Instead he turns in three strides grabbing the first recruit, he has him stand in front of you.

You raise your gun to his head, the recruit begins to cry and plead. The emotion flickers in your eyes again. Soldat, using his free hand he guides your hand to where it would be an easy kill and the least amount of mess and proof. 

The two of you wait for the order, the recruit keeps begging. 

“Soldat, on your count.” Handler offers another sliver of freedom. 

“Now.” Soldat says, something inside of him wanting to end the recruit’s misery. 

The words leave his mouth and you empty the bullet casing. You bite your cheek willing yourself not to cry. 

The Soldat realises, you have a weakness about to show. Emotions were the worst sign to beckon their wrath. The ache in his jaw flashes briefly. The body drops he retrieves another one, this recruit stays in place, snot and tears cover her face but she doesn’t beg or plead. 

Soldat moves behind you, guiding your hand to the proper stance with the lightest of tactile cues. You wonder if he was even touching your skin. 

“Do not show emotion.” His warning his low, only meant for you. 

“Move your hand up,” he instructs and you nod, the second bullet does not cause tears in your eyes. 

“Good.” Soldat praises in the same low tone. 

“Very well. Let us have the correct training begin.” The handler stands closer now. Your eyes move away from Soldat, yet they ache to return. 

He moves to the corner of the room, as the alive recruits are taken away to be prey for another day. You’re allowed to stand in the centre. 

“Second.” 

The man that Soldat harbours within him surfaces, reaching out to help the one about to suffer as he is, Soldat buries him deeper. Not knowing his name but the man would cause trouble. 

“Autumn.”

Soldat watches, fists tightened as the flicker of emotion vanishes from your warm eyes. 

“Four.” 

Your hands rest at your sides. 

“Moonlight.” 

Your body tenses. 

“Mint.” 

Your grip around the gun tightens. 

“Archer.”

The man within wants Soldat to move, break the cycle. Save this one soul. 

“Wishful.” 

Soldat attempts to regain control.

“Reason.” 

Your hands twitch as do Soldat’s palms.

“Tenth.” 

“Winter.” 

“Ready to comply.” You speak, voice void of feeling. 

The hope inside of Soldat is crushed at your words, he breathes easier knowing he does not have to fight himself. If this continues he knows the punishment is near. 

“Attack Soldat. Hand to hand only.”

Your gaze locks into his blank blue eyes, steps large as you decide the best way to land a blow to him. 

Just as your fist meets his jaw, he blocks you, turning you around your back against his chest.

Soldat, kicks your feet you fall, he presses you onto the floor. 

“Enough. Seems as though you still need more work. You both may be on HYDRA’s side, but you two are not equal. Not friends, not confidants, not teammates.” The handler warns. 

Soldat and you nod, “Release.” 

He lets go of you, you stand facing forward. 

Wishing you could look at him, him wishing he could look at you.  

Now. 

After the words exchanged about two weeks ago, you and James haven’t interacted beyond the mandated training under him. 

He keeps his words ice sharp and cold. You reply with equal bite but do not delve into the old patterns of screaming. 

Every little critique reminds you of your time at HYDRA, not good enough, not strong enough. Weak. Stupid. Second. Always second. 

You know he’s right, you know you tend to lose focus easier. You know you worked better under the conditioning. So what could you not turn your mind off?

The blow from your teammate has you double over, clutching your abdomen and James just rubs a hand over his tired face. 

“Oh come on, that was barely anything. Such a baby.” Your teammate teases, you tense. 

“Agent Lars, I didn’t know you ran class to critique?” He uses the tone of being a Sergeant, everyone takes a step back. 

You’re still pissed so naturally you lunge for Lars and have her on the floor in thirty seconds. 

“That is a foul.” She relents. 

“Never lose your focus.” You spit at her, moving away when she grabs your ankle to pull you back you stomp on her hand, she screams at the crack. 

“Stupid enhanced freak!” Lars screams and then begins to sob, James moves to her giving you a warning look. 

While the two others of your unit take Lars to the infirmary, James exhales through his teeth. 

“Are you incapable of keeping yourself in check?” His questions has you irritated. 

“Me? Did you not fucking hear her? Or has your enhanced hearing failed you?” You counter. 

“Fuck, for once can you, talk without having a conversation turn into a screaming fight? Or is basic human conversation not a part of your skillset?” He pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“Oh here it is, more words of critique.” You scoff, waiting.

James opens his eyes, blue eyes locked onto yours, your mind flashes to the countless bits and pieces of memories, each time pitted against him. Told off if your kill count was lower, if he beat you at anything.

Reinstating yourselves at SHIELD was the fucking same. He covered his bullshit well and blabbed about the shit you went through. He got his rank back and you were back at the cadet post.

“Just leave.” He says, no will to fight you.

“Why not? You love hearing your voice and insulting me, it was programmed into you.” You see his anger flare, eyes turning darker. 

“You need to learn when to keep quiet. I am giving you a chance to walk away and cool off.” He exhales, running a hand through his hair.

“Don’t talk about giving me chances, James. When you ruined mine.” You can’t help it your feet carry you to him, his furrowed brows and confused expression angering you further as if he doesn’t know what he did.

“What are you talking about?” He observes your shoulder tense, blocking the punch coming his way.

He takes your name in warning but it only spurs you on.

Your next punch blocked and you’re pushed to the side.

You lunge for him again, James moves behind you, grabbing your wrists, you wince as he twists your arms. 

“Stop it.” He warns again, you can hear the strain in his voice.

You stomp on his foot, he doesn’t flinch, you knock your head into his, he stumbles back.

You land a punch to James’ jaw, he blocks your kick to his abdomen. Using his strength to push your knee, you stumble. He uses only defensive non combat moves, you find yourself on your back, both your hands trapped in one of his, you glare at him.

“I warned you.” His eyes lock onto yours, James searches his mind for what caused the downfall.

“What has gotten into you?” He questions, tears pool at the corners of your eyes.

His gaze softens, “Y/N…” he brings his vibranium hand down, the cold fingers against your heated skin wipe thee traitorous tears. You want to lean in but also push away from his touch. No one here knew apart from him. You had hoped the reversal of conditioning would have repaired the fracture HYDRA caused between the two of you. It failed to repair anything. 

“Let me go.” Your voice breaks and you hate it, you hate that you feel safe enough to break apart in front of him but hate the fact he has to be the one to provide a semblance of the comfort you seek.

“Not until you tell me what is bothering you. I’ve had enough of this back and forth. I, I care about you.” He admits and you give a deep laugh, he knows this is sarcastic. Your actual laugh feels much more lighter and carefree, always prompting him to want to laugh.

“I do not have anything to say to you.” You push against his hand. James grits his teeth, pushing off. You push yourself up. Moving to the door. 

“HYDRA was right.” You pause at the door, “I thought maybe, maybe being here was a second chance for us. However I think, their conditioning ran too deep. I trusted you. Even when I wasn’t me I did. Even as me I did. You broke that Bucky. You stepped over me, broke my bones, pushed me into the category of weak as they had, while you took the rank and glory. You’re worse than an enemy.” 

You’re worse because even in hurting me I want you to tend to my wounds. You hold your tongue.

Bucky’s heart twists at his name from your lips, two years since he heard it. His expression sours as you turn away leaving him with levels of words to consider.

Bucky watches the door, thinking back to the time when Steve brought the two of you back for a second chance at life, at redemption. You were taken under the premise of a bright future within your city to support family. 

Injected with a version of the serum that took to you in the slightest, enhancements only to your physical healing, and endurance. Your strength needed training, he had better access to his memory to know your training was harsher than his, while Bucky had nothing to be threatened with, you had a family hung above your head to protect.

He watched you cry, he held you as the Soldat while away on missions, when he was able to get through to you beyond his conditioning restraining his control. When Soldat realised he could protect you from becoming like him to a certain extent.

Bucky saw the light inside you, he saw it find hope at the doorstep of SHEILD, brighten when the two of you were rehabilitated, then burn out when you were told to begin at base one and he was welcomed back to train others and rewarded back his Sergeant’s rank.

The rivalry and jabs only began from there, your blatant disrespect and disregard for him. Not listening when you were placed under his tutelage for finally being allowed into field work. 

He sighed, exiting the room with more questions than which he entered.

He needed to speak to Steve or maybe the therapist he does know he hadn’t told the therapist anything intimate about you. Whenever prompted he would dismiss and divert. Your story wasn’t his to tell.

He finds Steve going over files in a briefing room, he looks up with an easy smile and greeting.

“Do you know why Y/N was placed as a trainee? Despite being qualified enough to be transitioned into a qualified agent?” Is his question, Bucky’s jaw tenses as Steve fumbles for an answer.

“Buck—,”

“You, what did you do?” Bucky glares at the man he calls his best friend.

“You said she had it worse, that you could remember her crying.” Steve explains, Bucky takes a deep breath, trying to count to ten.

“You were told that in confidence. That was me feeling guilty over not being able to help. Not something for you to dismiss her skills for.” The glass cracks as Bucky slams his vibranium hand onto the surface.

Steve does not flinch, “She has risen through ranks.”

“She should not have had to, I was easily welcomed.” Bucky reasons.

“You’re different.” Steve shakes his head.

“Why because, I’m your friend?” Bucky raises a brow, then he scoffs, “Are you serious?” Bucky presses his palms against his eyes.

“I had a choice to make, I chose to make it easier for you.” Steve presses and Bucky gives him a humourless smile.

“Do you not get it? It isn’t easy for me, I have to watch her struggle as I did before, unable to help, she hates me, she is hurt, she has only me to confide in and this Steve you are absolutely out of line.” 

“I will not be apologising for what I thought was right, I promised you a till the end of the line.” Steve glares, “Not her.”

“Where was the end of the line? After you returned from the 1940s? Or was it when you left? Or is it at this moment in time, to provide your expertise to SHEILD?” Bucky scoffs, the aged man in front of him a ghost of the Steve Rogers he knew.

“I came back—,”

“Save it.” Bucky walks out, needing to find you.

You left, tears streaming down your face. You ached for a time when pain was not the only thing you knew. When your heart harboured laughter or something more.

Wiping your nose on the tissue, you stay curled in the corner of the helipad, behind the small wall that jutted out into a small landing. You’re thirty floors high, the sunset looming. A timer upon your time in his hidden place you adored.

You sniffle as another wave of pain washes over you. You allowed yourself only today, only today to breakdown, cry, cry over an irreparable relationship. Cry over Bucky not being who you hoped he could be to you.

“Fuck.” You mutter, as fresh tears keep coming. 

When you’re done, hollowed out again, you grab the mess of tissues, the crosswind luckily not knocking them all over the city below, the silly though makes you laugh. It’s shaky but it is a laugh.

Stepping over the ledge you trace your way back to your room.

You pause when you find Bucky pacing outside your door and talking.

“Listen, just open up please, I’d like to talk.”

“I know you probably will punch me again, but I’ll let you land the hit.” 

“Doll, open up.” The sentence has him rest his forehead against your door, palm against the door turns into a fist. He shakes his head.

“Just, if you want to talk, just text me or call me.” He calls out and turns the opposite way to walk away.

“James?” You say and he tenses before turning to look at you and then the door.

“You? Where were you?” Bucky walks towards you as you walk towards him, he sees it then, you holding the tissue box, eyes red, slightly puffy.

“I was out. What, why are you here?” You don’t have the energy for a fight or screaming match.

“I wanted to talk, if it is a good time.” He seems hopeful, you almost want to turn him away. You decide against it.

“Yeah, let me just,” You scan your badge and your door unlocks. Entering you allow him inside your small studio sized room.

He pauses, you hardly have anything in your room apart from a three seater couch, wide enough to fit you. 

Your shelves are lined with books, he recognises a title you told him when your conditioning was fading and his was just reinitialised. 

“You found that one?” He points and your heart thuds as you follow, he remembered?

“Yeah, um, I got back into reading.” You look around, then discard the used box and head to the bathroom, quickly washing your face. Bucky sits on your couch when you return, head in his hands.

“Look, I, I didn’t know you felt that way. I didn’t realise the extent of the words of critique especially after all that you went through with them. I, it threw me for a curve, your rudeness, your hatred that burned so bright it consumed everything and I lit my own inferno to hurt you right back. Your reaction is valid, your resentment too. I, I spoke to Steve, since I know I never told the therapist anything.” He pauses gazing at you, your mouth parted.

“I, he sort of well he basically admitted I got preferential treatment as Captain America’s best friend. I, I should have fought harder for you but I, I think I wanted that quick redemption so I took an undeserving reward.” He looks down in shame, you walk to him.

Palms shake ever so slightly as you grasp his head between your hands making him look at you as you kneel. 

“I’m sorry, I, I failed you, I didn’t try to understand. I just fought back. I broke you down constantly, when all I wanted to do was hold you.” He admits, his tears pool between your thumb and index finger.

“Bucky, you can’t say things like that.” Your voice is hoarse.

“Like what? The truth?” He raises a brow, his vibranium fingers wrap around your wrist.

“Like you might, you might care about me.”

“I do. Even as him, I did.” He says as easy as breathing.

“I, Bucky, I felt like I didn’t even have you anymore. You had Steve, I only had you and I lost you and then the blip and, I just, I care about you too.” You admit, it’s messed up that despite the worst of worst words thrown at each other how this confession was difficult to speak but you were so willing to accept. 

“I remember you holding me. Between missions, anchoring me to stay afloat.” You confess, all layers gone, the hatred you held for him a front to hide your feelings, bury them deep.

“I believe you kept me alive.” He says, the words easy on his tongue, as easy as drawing a breath. He turns in your grasp, kneeling as well, his lips ghosting over your palm, right above the scar a reminder of the wound Soldat had once tended to on your first mission.

“You.” You whisper realising the implications of that action

“I was reconditioned that night, thats why you were made to watch.” He tenses at the memory. 

“Bucky, I’m sorry, for everything.” 

“I’m sorry too, Doll.” He presses his forehead against yours, “I wish I could take everything back, give you your rightful rankings and not have you feel inadequate.”

“I wish I would have spoken to you sooner.” You close your eyes, his warm hand cups your cheek.

“Begin again?” He offers, you chuckle.

“Will we be able to move past all that was said?” You question, he sighs. 

“I believe if we work and communicate better we can, I know that.” he waits eyes closed.

“Look whose therapy is working.” You hear his laughter, he hears your mirth.

“What do you say?” He sounds hopeful, opening your eyes, you bite your lip, he grows nervous.

“Hello, I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” You smile as his blue eyes greet you with warmth.

“Hello, I’m James, you may call me Bucky.” He smiles, wiping away the remanent tears away. Pressing his lips to your forehead.

permanent tags: @stevesmewmew @pandaxnienke

#bucky x female reader #buck barnes fic #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fluff #james barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fluff #sebastian stan #bucky x yn #the winter soldier x you #frostironfudge #bucky barnes x plus size reader #james buchanan barnes x you #white wolf #bucky is the best #bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky angst #bucky fanfic #fatws #fatws x reader #fatws bucky #fatws fanfic #falcon and winter soldier #bucky barnes fic #frostironfudge’s funfair #marvel #bucky barnes #enemies to lovers #hurt comfort

[highpri3stess]

Ahhh just came to give my thoughts about the chapter 5! Firstly, thank you so much for the consistent uploads!!! Shin and mc are so so cute like the romcom vibes just makes my heart melt, it’s giving Italian summer 50s mobster vibes and I have no idea how else to explain that? Truly sad he’s not an option, tho I seriously hope we see more of him and the forbidden love that can never happen :(((

Your fluff writing is so good oml!

Okay and regarding characters:

Izanas characterization is so evilllll like he doesn’t even have the canon of having no family because he does in fact have family, dude is just so evil and the green monster for mc is corroding him istg he’s the “if i can’t have no one else can” typa guy,,, and the amount of projecting he is doing onto the mc

I could see Izana k*lling or seriously harming reader again, and can only imagine how mad shin would be with that threat at the end of chap 5 like izana unraveling the sano family which was the very thing he was afraid of happening would just be so karmic

Mikey u loserrrrr but fr he’s starting to become so lovesick in such a twisted way and I am so scared for his reaction the whole shin visit

In terms of who I think will betray reader: Hina (at least im just praying fnwkof) she’s so salty and jealous, and I lowkey wonder if she purposely set reader up to fail that test

On that Emma x mc x draken pipeline but im just in denial

Like I could see Emma becoming dark for a few reasons, but I don’t think it’d be in a straight way that would deliberately harm reader, she’s arguably one of the characters who is most obsessed with mc , I could see her being manipulative so that reader has no one else but her, slowly destabilizing mc (pls I love a gay yandere *jcjekfj),,, and drakennnnn I love the idea of him being fond for reader instead of jealous but I KNOW that’s not canon to the story

Side note but I loveee Mitsuya and his lil crush on mc, and mc is so precious like she does nooooot deserve this and i don’t understand how she’s making everyone obsessive in just evil ways but i guess honey attracts more flies than vinegar

N e ways im so excited to see where you decide to go with the rest of the story, but no rush and take care of yourself!!!

Ahhh thank you so much! I genuinely live for you guys theories!

Ahh thank you! I haven't written fluff in a while so I'm glad you really liked it! I did take some inspiration for Reader and Shin scenes from a telenovella I was watching at the time "The Rich also cry" and another one I don't recall the name and Shinichiro kind of reminds me of Michael from "the Godfather" by Mario Puzzo, the unwilling heir to a criminal business yknow (I haven't read the Godfather since I was like 15. I should pick it up again soon), so yeah.

PLEASE. It is so not looking good for Hina's public image right now. First not writing te test for reader and then the wrong scores 😭 my goodness.

Also i love gay yandere pleaseeee. In a way, Emma is a little bit obssessed, but she has a good head on her shoulders, unlike her brothers and still sees reader as a good person. Although she tends to impose her will on reader a lot. Draken has a love-hate relationship with reader but I don't think I'll have enough time to explore that dynamic.

IZANA AND MIKEY ARE sooo funny to me. Like they are a combination of stupid, losers and selfish 😭. I don't want to spoil chapter 5 or say things that might not make it to the final cut but let's just say they are HUGE assholes.

Honey does attract more flies than vingear. Very true. Thank you so much nonnie.

#monsters ♡

[matan4il]

The idea of the finale and officially being canceled opinion. For me, nah I would have hated it no matter what. Full confession the reason dates back to Fried Green Tomatoes. I'm the original anon who asked you about them. Always thank you for that beautiful meta on them.

There has always been a great debate on that movie being remade to be more queer and I have never been on board with the notion because quite frankly, the actresses are 🔥 and the movie was so beautiful.

For me, one of the reasons is that over the years, anyone I talk to has a great many opinions. Was Mrs. Threadgood Idgy, if so did she really marry someone else, was she Gradys wife. The list is honestly so good. The best take was Mrs Threadgood was Idgy but yes years later married a man for companionship and Ruth was still her great love. However, the point is I have never met anyone who doesn't believe that Ruth and Idgy were just BFFs. Even if you view them as not sexual, everyone views them as cardinal. Simply their person. And Buddie has gone right to that, and almost past that point by now.

So my opinion is to stop leaving a season with potential women. There is no need, and it's cheap. They don't develop good ones. Give the viewers the opportunity to write and fill in their own ending.

Especially because I have never met a viewer who is like this show won't be complete for me if Buddie don't end up with women. Forcing them into relationships is literally the definition of heteronomativity. No one cares to see it so why not give everyone what they want. Clearly they are each other's person, no LI and open ended to let FF writers take over. It's really not hard ABC!!

Awwww, Fried Green Tomatoes Nonnie! *hugs* Thank you so much for requesting the meta for it, and inspiring the gifset comparing it to Buddie. I am SO pleased to hear you enjoyed it! *hearts forever*

I agree, the movie is perfect as it is, the book is obviously more explicit than the film, and I think that says something in itself about the period it was made in. I think something important for queer people (and allies if they're interested) is learning our histories, and this is a part of it. What could and couldn't be said in a movie about gay love meant to reflect a time further into the past, when the most acceptance one could hope for, without any cynicism, was in silence.

And of course, as you can see in my other recent ask replies as well, I couldn't agree with you more on the underdevelopment for the female Love Interests and its deeply disappointing effect on the meaning of Buddie's journeys. I very much hope 911 under ABC's supervision will give us canon Buddie, but I will accept an ending where there are no LIs, where Buck and Eddie are acknowledged as each other's person, and we the viewers are invited to fill in the blanks. Then again, I have said before that even if the show does - stupidly - end on a note where Buddie are with underwhelming LIs? I'd still just assume they'd eventually break up and find their way to each other. It's their inevitable trajectory, just like Frank was never going to be Ruth's endgame.

Thank you for this ask, Nonnie! Hope you find the reply helpful! xoxox

#ask #anon ask #fried green tomatoes #idgie x ruth #fandom love #buddie #911meta #911 on abc #911 abc #buddie meta #911 meta #911abc #9-1-1 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911onabc #911 #edmundo diaz #evan buck buckley

[thahiree]

End/Start of the year! Means it’s time for an end of year self rec list! If you want.

A top 5 list OR rank all the fics you have done this year in a full, completely arbitrary, ranked list of all the ones from this year! Would love to hear your thoughts on your own work :)

Thank you so much for this ask 💖💕

Here's my top 5:

to think someone's in your head (MCU, Teen and Up Rated, 6298 words)

Thor and Tony get a little handsy at a team meeting. Steve doesn’t handle it well.

Inspired by an awesome anon on here who I've exchanged fun asks with re. the easy relationship between Thor & Tony and how seeing it might make Steve feel.....😏 (ThorTony are totally besties who fuck sometimes when the mood strikes, completely platonically and uncomplicated!!! I said what I said!!)

zero hour (MCU, Teen and Up Rated, 4665 words)

Steve wakes from a bad nightmare. Surprising himself (and probably Nat), he finds himself reaching out to Tony for the first time in a long while.

Again inspired by a scenario an anon sent me on here! (Ily nonny 🧡). This got a lot more angsty than initially planned but I do love the emotional resolution in this one

and when it came down, i was looking into your eyes (MCU, Explicit, 8118)

Steve gets turned into a vampire mid-mission and Tony volunteers to help him out 😈

My SLS fic for @venomous-soliloquy. I like the fun and trust between them, even during a very scary situation

High Hopes (MCU, Teen and Up Rated, 2282 words)

My take on future fic/established relationship Stevetony & how a proposal could look like for them! (ngl I headcanon both Steve and Tony as not particularly interested in marriage post-EG lol but that's where the story went lol)

wild tenderness (Marvel Ultimates, Explicit, 2734 words)

My first attempt at Ultimates Stevetony! Had a lot of fun with it. One of my favorite dynamics I've written so far, I think 🙈

#this was so sweet ty #happy new year!! #my fic #my asks #stevetony #stevetony fic #stony fic #fic rec

[nighttimescribbles]

hi i'm not sure if you remember me but i'm the anon who complimented DaD and went into it fandom blind. i think i sent that to you in february/march i'm not exactly sure but since then i've only just reached season 2 and i couldn't go on. miche devastated me too much because he was my favourite daddy in your series so i had a little bit of a soft spot for him going into the anime. but anywho, i hope you're doing well i subscribed to you on ao3 and so i get emails whenever you upload something and i've been heavily enjoying you nsfw alphabet with zekey. which also reminds me (i'm not sure what this ask is turning out to be) a couple of my coworkers have told me they enjoy aot and when i mention my like for zeke, they're always so quick to judge because i forget people on the internet and people in real life are not all the same and that truly devastates me. anyways, once again, i hope you're doing very well don't forget to take care of yourself and stay hydrated as much as you can :-)

Nonnnniiiiieeeeee 😩😭🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 I'll tell you what this ask is turning into. It's turning into one of the sweetest asks that dropped onto my lap. thank you for bringing me a smile today 💝💝💝💝💝💝

i am so so happy that DaD led you to watch aot! don't worry about stopping at season 2 because babe, me too. 😩 i also *couldn't* after Miche's death. it was so horrifying. and knowing what's going to happen to my OG Daddeh Erwin? noped out. that's why you're finding me here, on tumbl space, sitting in a tub full of au's where everybody's happy and healthy. 😭 welcome to the fold~~~

thank you for mentioning the zekey nsfw alphabet 😭❤️‍🩹 i started that because i was so inspired by @killerbananas concise, lyrical writing style (you have got to check her out. fics that read like poetry, bestie) and wanted to see if i could incorporate it into my stuff. i know drabble dumps don't really get much traction, so i'm super super suuuuper happy whenever that baby gets even a whiff of feedback. now you're here and another lovely reader has been constantly leaving encouraging comments on there so my heart has been

i'm sorry that you can't share your love for zeke irl. he's just a fictional character? what's the big deal? personally, i didn't like him AT ALL at first (because the antagonist to the daddehs we all know and love, y'know?) but his sob story got me. i am a sucker for sob stories. and the more i looked at him and read about him and watched clips of him, the more i realised that he's not actually a bad person. he's misguided and goes about things the wrong criminally against humanity way but he can't be completely blamed for it. at least, i can't. i think his experiences have ruined him in the head but deep down, he's a good guy who would benefit from a warm, loving home.

welcome to the fold, nonnie! let's give zekey that warm, loving home here 💖

#plenty of zekey stans on here #some peeps want to give reiner forehead kisses and midnight hugs #i want to do the same #but to zekey #asks

[tellhound]

For the asks - all of them 💖

Hi there, nonny. Thank you for this! It was really fun answering all these questions, but I have to admit that this will be both the first and probably last time I'll answer all questions in an ask game. Also, sorry if I missed any of the questions! 💖

To all the people that was tagged, feel free to ignore this post. The question I tagged y'all in was just "Tag 5 of your favorite blogs" ❤️❤️❤️

Without further ado, time for the "q and a"!

1. Do you have freckles?

No

2.  Do you drink tea or coffee? How do you take it?

I drink both, but prefer coffee. For coffee I prefer one sugar, just a little milk. And tea I usually drink black.

3. What was the last song you listened to?

I Am - Jamie Bower

4. Do you sleep on your back, stomach or side?

Side usually

5. Do you sleep with a stuffed animal?

Nah

6. Do you prefer drawing or writing?

Writing

7. What’s your ideal number of blankets to sleep with?

Just one

8. What’s your favorite band/artist?

I've got so many, but the ones I've listened to the most lately are The Amazing Devil, Djo, Autoheart

9. When is your birthday?

August 14

10. How tall are you?

173cm or about 5'8

11. What color are your eyes?

Green

12. Who are five (or more) people you want to hug right now?

At this very moment? No one. Actually, please don't touch me at all today.

13. Fears?

Yes. I have some

14. What’s your favorite color?

Green

15. What’s your favorite season?

Autumn 🍁🍂🥀

16. Want any tattoos? What of?

Already got six, but there's three more I want. Tigger from Winnie-the-Pooh, a tad inspired one that I haven't figured out yet, and one I won't reveal until I have it, but what I can say about it is that it's a tribute to my grandpa and the dog he had when he was alive.

17. Want any piercings? Where?

I really want a helix. Have had one twice, but I just keep having bad luck with it.

18. Who is the last person you texted?

My brother.

19. Do you have a best friend? How long have you been friends?

Pegasus. We became friends in 2009.

20. What/who do you miss?

So many people. So so many people.

21. How was your day today?

It's been a good day. Just hanging out with my parents and my brother.

22. How much sleep did you get last night?

Around 6 hours I believe

23. Do you believe in aliens?

Yes! 👽🛸

24. When was the last time you cried? Why?

A couple days ago when I listened to music I haven't heard in years. It brought back some painful memories.

25. What’s your favorite decade?

The 80's and it have nothing to do with Stranger Things. Just ask my parents.

26. What are some seemingly childish things you like?

Soap bubbles! Lego. 🫧

27. What’s your favorite book? Or just one you’ve read a few times?

My point... And I Do Have One by Ellen Degeneres is the only book I've read more than once. Wouldn't call it a favorite anymore though.

28. How are you, really?

You want the truth? Not good. But I'm better than I used to be. And I'm just trying so hard to get to a point where I can honestly say that I'm happy again. It's gonna take time though and it's hard and frustrating, but I hope that in the end it will be worth it.

29. Does it take you a long time to make decisions?

Depends on what it's about. But most of the time it does take me a while.

30. What are you looking forward to in the near future?

Autumn, so I can finally start using all my scarves and beanies again!🧣

31. What are you looking forward to in the distant future?

Streaming on twitch again.

32. If you could go anywhere right now, where would you go?

London

33. Do you sleep with your door open or closed?

Closed

34. What’s your favorite flower?

🌻🌻🌻

35. Do you currently have a squish? 

Maybe, maybe not. I'll leave that as a mystery.

36. Do you like your middle name?

I do, but I'm glad it's not the name I go by.

37. Do you prefer dogs or cats?

I love both so incredibly, much. But I do slightly prefer cats.

38. Do you have any phobias?

Astraphobia which is the gear of thunder and lightning 🌩 ⛈️⚡

39. Do you stay up late?

Unfortunately, yes

40. Do you like the beach? Do you prefer it sunny or cloudy?

I don't really have a strong opinion on beaches. They can be nice when there's not too many strangers there I guess. And I prefer it sunny.

41. What’s your favorite cartoon?

Avatar the last Airbender? I don't really watch cartoons

42. Tag 5 of your favorite blogs

@dreamsoffilm @seidenbros @jesskier @gabetheunknown @dancingwiththefae

43. Do you have siblings? How many?

Yes, one.

44. Who was the last person you said “I love you” to?

I think it was Lou 💖

45. Is there anyone you would die for?

Not sure. Maybe. Probably.

46. What do you need when you’re sad?

Someone who'll just hug me and listen to me, or someone who'll just sit there in silence with me if I don't wanna talk.

47. Have you memorized your phone number?

Yes!

48. Who’s someone you can trust with your life?

Idk

49. What does your last text say?

"Okej" which is the swedish spelling of 'okey'

#anonymous #Anon #The a to your q

[abbysprettygiiirl]

finished the movie and omg. :(( loved it so so much !!? the soundtrack is so beautiful as well. and the end... aah. it was a really interesting movie! and also, hungarian is a pretty language. (though i had to watch it with subtitles). emma and ignac were so adorable? like the scene where they first kiss, when ignac knocks on emma's door after he got into a fight with a man (who's wife died). and emma cleans his wounds. i love a good wound cleaning scene. but overall. the character of semmelweis is just... it's so inspiring and touching how he really cares for his patients. and how he'll do anything to care for them, to help them, and do better. this movie is so good. and so pretty and touching. and i thought it was so cute how he wrote emma a letter, to convince her to come with him to budapest. and how he got her little sister new glasses at the end. :(( this movie had the right balance of romance and plot. so so good !! 🫶🏻

"maybe the words i'm even more sorry about are the unsaid ones, the ones that would have made it clear to me – that i need you. you are important to me. and i believe we belong together." from ignác's letter.

as for your crush. it sucks so bad to have a crush on your best friend. :(( i've only fallen in love with a best friend once. and we "dated" (we were like, 13 at the time). but we lost contact. and she said i was a creep for liking girls and she forced herself to love me?? but anyway !

you don't have to put pressure on yourself to figure out if you're bi or a lesbian. it can take a long time before you figure that out, so don't pressure yourself. really. we tend to stress over labels sm when they don't really matter (in my opinion.) and what do you mean the feeling is starting to fade away? i hope you're ok and not feeling too bad about it, lovely :(( 🫶🏻🌷 mwaaah !!

I'm so happy you liked the movie, I really am! 💘

by the way, when I first saw the movie in the cinema, Ignác was so unlikable because of his cold demeanor, but when he was with Emma, he became more and more likeable, except when Emma "betrayed" Ignác to the head doctor of the other department. and my god, when Ignác's friend died :( I felt so sorry for him :(

whaat? how can anyone say such a thing?? forced herself to love you?! what the heck-😨 like she must be dumb, sorry

anyway, I try not to think about it too much, but at night, until I fall asleep, these thoughts enter my mind and unfortunately, sometimes I worry until I cry (just like now). and I meant that sentence to mean that the feeling of "love" for my best friend is starting to fade and I'm starting to think of her as a friend again. :) 💕

thank you for talking to me, 🌷 nonnie!! 🫶🏻

#lily's 🌷anon #lily is yapping #stupid love #movies

[evenasyoungastheyare]

Good morning (here),


It’s tea time here.


How was your week? Any sun there? It has been a grey week here. Grey again today - Uugh.


So we are inspired be the same images! That’s not surprising to me. You are one of my favourite artists. It is so interesting to me - we live so far away from each other yet we see a similar beauty in images.


Have you drawn that image? If so please link me. Are you drawing that image? If so I'm looking forward to the posting. 


I had to look back and see if that photo was the reference used for my first drawing request with you. The banana and cross are in the full image. It is not that image. But I think you did mention me in your reblog of the photo, “#for my dick banana obsessed anon” - too funny!! We have come a long way!!! 


That first drawing is special to me. It is where I was first brave enough to interact with you. And you where kind enough to respond. Also the dick banana and the cross together - I mean - just look at it!!! It makes me laugh and shake my head at the same time.


Now for the serious part - If you ever think I’m infringing on your talent/copying let me know. That is never my intention. Please call me out. I will happily remove the edit. This is a creative release for me, nothing serious. I’m just putting some red on paper. I value you way more than some silly little edit.

I hope it is sunny where you are. Have a great weekend!


Hello my loveliest nonnie,

you made my experience here so much better. I really need encouragement sometimes and your kind words are so important to me. I love your messages very much. Thank you!

Please, dont even think about me calling you out. Why would I do it? You are also one of my favourite artist sooo. And it feels great that we are connected to each other and we are inspired by similar or even same photos. It is just awesome! Btw, I havent drawn that one you asked about yet, but when I planned what I want to draw like two days ago, that one was in my top 5 :D. I am now working on another one but I am going to draw the one with the hand and necklace too.

I didnt know it was you who asked for the dick/banana necklace :D :D. It is funny and I am so happy you found courage and wrote to me (I might seem to be cold sometimes but I think it is partly because we as a nation are - or were - kind of reserved? haha).

It was pretty sunny here today. The weather here is really weird these days. There are high temperatures for this season. It was like 18°C on New Years Eve - very strange. I am going to visit my sister tomorrow and we will work in the garden. I hope the weather will be ok.

I wish you are going to have some sunny days soon!

Have a beautiful weekend ❤️

#thank you very much #eta #todays weather is awful #it is grey

[ramp-it-up]

Hi! Inspired by the mountain climbing picture you reblogged, could you do something where Chris’ girl watches him workout and gets ~inspired~? Thank you! I love your writing!

Thank you for this! It got me going. I appreciate you, Nonnie! Here ya go:

Mountaintop

Paring: Chris Evans x Reader 

Summary: Chris takes you to the mountaintop.

Word count: 2.2K (It was going to be a drabble, I swear)

Warnings: 18+ As always, MINORS DNI. RPF, SMUT. Chris Evans shirtless, rock climbing, reader has a negative body image, praise kink, strength kink, sweat, vien licking, biting, dangling dongs, fingering, sex in ropes and harness (rope kink?), dirty talk, semi-public sex maybe?, allusion to face riding.

A/N: Look at me. I do not know a thing about rock climbing. As it is in fiction, I’ve made this shit up. I realize all of this may not be physically possible. Indulge me.  Thanks to @maroonsunrise83 who brought the buzzcut thirst and @lovebittenbyevans who inspired the holy water line. Hope you like it. Let me know!

Notice: I no longer operate a taglist. Follow @rampitupandread to be notified when I post. DO NOT COPY, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Chris was training. 

He was constantly training.

Every part that he won, he wanted to be sure that the action was realistic, whether it was his body, his hair, his grooming, his dress, his fitness level, he wanted to look the part. He also wanted to have the appropriate skill set, whether it be weapons handling, fighting style, or talents of the character, Chris put his all into every role.

He was putting in extra work, and usually tagging along wasn’t your thing, but you were in between contracts and had free time on your hands. In a few weeks you’d both be busy, so quality time would be rare. You went with Chris to the climbing rock/mountain set that the production built at one of the studios; as one of the producers, Chris had access around the clock.

You had on your new workout gear: performance short shorts, sports bra, and climbing shoes that Chris brought home for you last night on a whim. You were hesitant; you were not the model type, and tight workout clothes were not your jam.

After some tender worship of your body, Chris convinced you that you looked good in the gear. But now you didn’t know how you got here, watching him dangle from the side of a fake mountain. 

He was a sight, buzzcut, beard, shirtless, tattoos gleaming with sweat, and nothing but some gym shorts on. 

You were rigged up, ready to go and you did well, for all of 15 feet, where you reached a ledge and rested your arms and legs while Chris went ahead and climbed to the summit, and then back down again toward you.

When he’d climbed up, his unfettered penis was just dangling above you in the leg of the shorts, a third leg indeed.

He was currently about six feet away from you, dangling above you by his right arm, triceps taught, smile wide as he swung back and forth, then dropped a little and caught himself with his legs and the rig, thigh and calf muscles put to work. You gasped when he dropped, so he did it again and this time you giggled, taking in the way his muscles were rippling at the moment, and brazenly sweeping your eyes down his lean form. 

Chris, recognizing the way you were checking him out, winked and shifted his weight to the other hand. Your eyes were drawn to the way his Taurus tattoo glistened with the nectar of the gods, his sweat.

You licked your lips at the thought of collecting that holy water on your tongue, and leaned back, sort of sitting in your harness, admiring him. Your pussy clenched as the harness pulled your thighs apart, and you thought of how perfect it would be to wear while…

You closed your eyes, moaned a little bit and cleared your throat, hearing a whooshing sound next to you. You caught a blur in your peripheral as Chris zipped past you, repelling down and landing on the ground, moving underneath you and looking up.

“Holy shit. I can see your pussy lips in that harness. And that ass looks delicious.” 

He was smirking up at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Looking down at him, you shook your head. 

“You’re incorrigible, Christopher.” 

Both of you shared a laugh, but you shook your head at the way he seemed to be reading your mind. As usual. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Chris’ grin as he started climbing back up next to you, stopping beside you, biceps flexed as his hands gripped the holds on the side of the rock.

You took him in, gulping as your desire rolled in your stomach like the bead of sweat down his arm along the line of that damned vein. Chris’ face changed, as if smelling your arousal, and he moved closer to you, his large hands inching their way toward you on the rock.

He reached you and leaned near, those rose lips tempting you toward him for a kiss. A quick peck as he dangled from the mountain turned into a deep dive into your mouth, his arm snaking around you and his leg gaining the ground near yours.

Before you knew it, Chris was behind you and you were too warm, sharing his turned up body heat. You tried to stand up straight, but Chris pulled you backwards into his crotch. You gasped at his hard on and grasped your ropes tighter.

“See how you got me? Hard as these rocks. All of this beautiful flesh just tied up to this mountain. And in my arms. So fucking hot.”

The veins in Chris’s forearm bulged in front of you, braced as it was between the mountain and the soft flesh of your torso as he gripped you and the rock at the same time.

“Don’t worry. I got you…” 

Chris’s deep throaty whisper turned into a moan as you leaned down to lick the veins, along with the salt which had condensed on his skin. You licked all the way up his wrist to his finger, arching your back as he pressed his hard cock into you.

“That tongue makes me want to…”

Chris held onto the rock hold with one hand and used the hand that you licked to fumble with your shorts, circumventing the harness to gain access to your sweaty heat. His long fingers found no panties and slick that was already starting to coat your thighs.

“Fuck, Darlin’ what got you like this?” 

Chris wedged two thick fingers between your pussy lips which were bulging as you sat in the harness. The sloshing of your wet pussy reverberated off the rock and the cavernous studio walls. It was getting you there.

“Y-you Chris. Fuck you’re so fine…”

Your whisper was killing Chris, and your stutter meant you were in the mood to be fucked any way he’d give it.

“Mmmm think so? Well, then that makes you my equivalent.”

Chris was sucking hickeys into your neck, slurping up your sweat and breaking capillaries under your skin as you laughed at his fuckboi line. 

“Mmmhmmm. Talking shit while you mark me up. You love using that mouth of yours.” 

Your eyes rolled back into your head and your mouth opened in a silent gasp as he worked your clit. Your sexy chuckle and squirming was making him leak.

“Telling you how beautiful you are and making you feel it are two of my favorite things.” 

Chris’s hand flexed as he gripped the rock and you at the same time, arms full of carnal beauty.

“You do make me feel beautiful, even when I’m not. Stuffed into these shorts, covered in sweat, I look a mess.” 

You frowned through the pleasure he was giving you. 

“You don’t know how  gorgeous you are, do you?” 

His deep chuckle and the things he was doing to you made you tremble in his arms.  Chris took his hand out of your shorts and turned your face so that he could see your profile. He also took the two fingers that had been playing in your pussy and stuck them in your mouth. 

You grunted in your throat as he made you take his long fingers. 

“Look at that face. Those lips. Taste that delicious flavor. I can get off just thinking about that, much less what it feels like to be inside my sweet, wet pussy.” 

He kissed your cheek innocently despite the nasty things he was whispering to you. 

“And I do, whenever we're apart.”

You fellated his fingers and he ground his cock into your ass. His shorts had ridden up and the precum on the head of his cock was smearing onto your thighs. You were scandalized, even though you knew you were alone.

“Chris..”

He continued.

“I love you, want you, need you, All of you. The way you yield to me, the softness of you…” 

He was running his hand over your body, cupping your pussy over your shorts now, making you grip your ropes tighter. You whimpered because you wanted more. 

“And you in these ropes and this harness? Fuck!” He bit softly into your shoulder, making you whimper. “Make me wanna fuck you on the side of this rock.” Chris growled into your skin. 

“What?”

You panicked a little, stood up on the ledge and looked down. The dizziness you felt was not just because of the height, Chris was huffing hot air onto your cheek.

“Good girl,” Chris cooed in your ear as the slack in the rigging allowed him to pull your shorts to the side. 

Then you heard and felt him fumble with his own shorts. His knees bent behind you and he kissed your spine at your mid-back. Chris started swiping the turgid head of his swollen cock through the folds of your dripping labia. It felt electric, and your muscles tensed.

“Now sit back down. Need to feel your sweet cunt around me.” 

Chris hissed as you slowly sat down, stretching yourself out on his thick, wonderfully irregularly shaped cock. How you loved the bends and the ridges and the way his thick dicklit you up from the inside out.

“Fuck, Darlin.” 

Chris brushed his lips by the side of your ear as he started moving, relying on his harness and one hand to support him as he fucked up into you. His strength turned you on, lubricating your cunt, and he had no problem pistoning inside your tight channel as you dangled on the side of the rock with him.

Chris was huffing into your ear and you saw him look around and down as you leaned forward and pushed your ass out, partly to give him better leverage and partly to lean your head against the rock. He was pounding you pretty hard, but it wasn’t enough.

“Now you’re gonna have to trust me.” He stopped pumping and was circling his hips, driving you crazy with need.

You bit your lips and nodded. “Uhmmhmm.”

“Okay.” 

Chris took your hands and positioned them on the rigging, unlocking your ropes from the anchor. Then, he did the same with his, strong arms flexed around you as he gripped the ropes, sending a wave of wetness over his cock as you clenched him tightly.

You opened your mouth and moaned.

“Jesus, Darlin’!” Chris paused to catch his breath as he pulsed precum into you. “Is it the ropes? They turn you on?”

His deep gravelly voice rumbled through you as he leaned even closer. “Because you tied up to me and this mountain is making me hard as fuck.”

He took a deep breath and straightened up a little bit still inside you. Everything was a little too much; warm, wet, arousing; but you still had your wits about you.

“Lean into me. I got you. I’m in control.”

You did as you were told, leaning back onto his cock letting him support your weight. You felt Chris’s legs bend as he pushed off the side of the ledge and you both descended, him holding you steady with one hand, still on his cock as you flew through the air. Your own personal superhero was taking you on an erotic flight of only a few feet as you two descended down the side of the climbing rock. 

In just a few seconds you came back toward the wall, Chris’s strong legs and thighs taking the force of the impact, jolting you both as his cock pushed impossibly deeper inside you. It was like nothing you’d ever felt before. Your groans bounced off the large space pornographically as he did it three more times, making your head spin as you descended and he fucked into you harder with each fall.

When you reached the ground, Chris’s hand found your clit again and the barrel knot that had formed in your stomach started to snap. Your face was pushed against fabricated rock in an empty sound studio and you didn’t care.

“Chris! M’close!”

“Holy shit!”

Chris, who had demonstrated excellent fine and gross motor control descending the rock, now devolved into a sloppily thrusting brute, roughly fucking you as he felt you clench around him; then he let go and chased his own end.

“FOCCKKKKK!” 

Boston came out as Chris released his cum into you, the seed as hot as the sweat dripping onto your back. He kept circling your clit as he shot his load, coaxing you to extend your orgasm as you clutched the rock, shivering.

He leaned over and kissed your shoulder as you convulsed one last time. 

“Wow.”

You nodded your head.

“Wow, indeed.” 

You smiled at him as he gingerly pulled out, letting his semen run down your thighs. He fixed your shorts and his and then rubbed your arms, whispering in your ear.

“You good?”

You giggled. “Unh hunh…” 

Chris worked to get you all unhooked from the rigging and out of the harnesses. You watched him work, his bare chest doing things to you again.

“You need more climbing training.”

His face looked serious as he put the gear away.

“Oh?”

He looked at you and those eyebrows became animated, his smile electric.

“Let’s go home and you can climb on my face when we get there. I’ll work you out.”

#chris evans #ask dj #dj will answer #chris evans smut #chris evans imagine #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans rpf