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matchingbatbites · 9 months

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"What the fuck did you do?"

Eddie wasn't expecting hostility when he answered Jeff's phone call, his best friend's usual calm demeanor replaced with open annoyance. And yeah, okay, the annoyance itself wasn’t new, but Eddie doesn’t think he’s actually done anything recently to earn it.

"Well-"

"Actually, no. I'll tell you what you did. You retweeted photos of Steve Harrington - internationally beloved heartthrob actor Steve Harrington - along with the caption 'not to sound like a subby slut but GOD I would be his puppy baby boy in a heartbeat'. So I guess the better question is, what the fuck were you thinking, Eddie?"

Eddie's jaw clicks shut because- yeah, he had done that. Had seen those photos of Steve smoking circling the internet and spent god knows how long just staring at them, had curbed the desire to shove his hand down his pants by posting a single thirst tweet about it.

“I was thinking, Jeff, that I'm allowed to post whatever I want to my private fucking twitter, man. I mean it's a free country, isn't a guy allowed to make a horny tweet about a sexy man every now and then?”

“You are, when you actually post it to your private account and not our award winning band's main account.”

No. Oh no. There's no way Eddie actually-

He rips his phone away from his face to open twitter, and realizes two things simultaneously. One, Jeff is right, he had posted it to the band's account. Not on his private, locked, personal account, but on the account that's actually open and free for literally anyone on earth to look at.

The second thing he realizes is that their notifications are currently flooded with responses to Eddie's tweet, somehow racking up into the thousands in the few hours it's been since.

Jesus Christ.

“Eddie?”

The metalhead jerks back into the moment and put Jeff on speaker so he can scroll through the horde of replies, says “Fuck, I fucked up. Are we gonna have to do damage control on this?”

In the mess is a reply from Gareth's own personal account: @ corrodededdie stop tweeting from the band account challenge 🙄🙄🙄

”Maybe. There hasn't been any type of response from Harrington or his people, but they might ask us to take it down if it blows up too much.“

Eddie hums, thinking they might be too little, too late about it blowing up too much, and flips over to his main account so he can reply to Gareth's little jab appropriately. He isn't surprised to see that he has a couple of new messages, probably from other people wondering just what the fuck Eddie was thinking, but when he goes to check them-

He's never been happier that he turned on messages from followers only, because then he would have missed this, missed Steve Harrington's little profile picture beaming up at him from the screen of his phone, along with a new message request.

”Jeff, I gotta go,” he says, not even realizing he's cut the other man off.

“Eddie, what-

”Harrington messaged me. I'll call you back.“

Eddie doesn't wait for a response as he hangs up on Jeff, and his hands definitely aren't shaking as he opens the message from Steve. And listen- Eddie is a fan of the guy, that much should be obvious.

Steve had grown in popularity around the same time Corroded Coffin had; he’d gotten some part in a drama film that had skyrocketed him into stardom, and Eddie fell in love the moment he saw that gorgeous face on the silver screen for the first time. He's never had a chance to interact with the guy, has been in the same place a few times but always missed him, like ships passing in the night, but Eddie's been fine with pining from afar, just like every other person on the planet that's even remotely attracted to men.

Besides, even with how popular Corroded Coffin has gotten over the years - a couple of Grammy’s here, a dozen chart topping metal songs there - Eddie doesn’t expect Steve to just. Know who Eddie is.

With all of this in mind, Eddie is expecting some kind of semi-casual request to take the tweet down, that it's not a good look for his image-

Anything other than what Steve actually sent.

'If you're puppy baby boy, does that make me Master? Or Daddy?'

And Eddie-

Eddie slides down, sinks into his couch cushion as all of the blood in his body suddenly shifts, rushing to fill his dick like it's a fucking race. The phone almost slips out of his hand and he fumbles it briefly before taking a deep breath.

Is Steve serious? He wouldn't send that if he wasn't serious, right?

This could be it, could be Eddie's one chance to impress Steve, to get his foot in the door of Steve's interest. He bites his lip and types out a reply, something quick that he sends before he can change his mind.

‘I’m open to either, actually. Do you have a preference, sir?’

He doesn’t expect the typing indicator to come up immediately, and just knowing that Steve is somewhere right now, typing out a response to Eddie, is enough to have him nearly vibrating in his seat.

‘I’m partial to Daddy, myself.’

Fuck fuck fuck.

Eddie takes a breath, tries to think of a response that isn’t just ‘Please, Daddy, can I sit on your massive dick that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since that one indie film you did that just had all of your junk out in the open?’

Steve saves him by sending another message.

‘But maybe we could start with Steve, and possibly dinner? Though I’d be happy to see where things go after that.’

He- What-

Eddie must have stopped breathing, because the next time he takes a breath his lungs burn, his mid races because there’s no way Eddie’s long term celebrity crush just asked him on a date. He sits there long enough that the screen goes dark and he scrambles to turn it back on, sees the message still there, real and unchanged.

There’s no way he can say no to this, to Steve, and his hands shake as he types out a response.

‘Dinner would be great. Just name the time and place, Daddy.’

#like everyone else those new pics of joe keery left me kind of #feral. horny. slutty.#so i channeled my feeling a bit #i miiiight do more of this but no promises #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #rockstar eddie munson #actor steve harrington #joey writes #ficlet #fun fact: eddie's tweet was my actual real life message to my friends about those pics

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mellowsaturns · 11 months

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in losing grip, on sinking ships (you showed up just in time)

BUCKY BARNES X FEM!READER

summary: when the avengers pick up unusual activity, they realize that not all of hydra was destroyed. one unidentifiable face sends the team into a frenzy but bucky knows it. he could recognize those eyes anywhere.

warnings: heavy angst, one sided enemies-to-lovers-ish, hydra!assassin!reader, hurt/comfort, happy ending, brainwashing, trauma, guns & knives, fighting, implied kidnapping of reader when young, all the feels, misunderstandings, poor attempt at writing action

wc: 4.7k

a/n: sorry it’s been forever but i hope my fellow buckyluvrs are still here <3 i actually wrote this a long time ago but never got around to editing until recently so i guess you can say this is (from the vault) ? inspired by the idea: what-if there was another winter soldier and bucky finds himself in steve’s position this time trying to get you back to him. anyways, i hope you enjoy this one :)

Bucky’s life was a never ending montage of gunfire and bloodshed. It didn’t matter if he was under the clutches of someone else, he still lived through the wars—the lingering smell of smoke and tang of metallic forever ingrained in his senses.

And just when he thought it was finally over—a glimmer of peace at last—it comes and steals that dream away from him.

Like deja-vu, he’s looking at faces that were once responsible for his pain.

On the screen, three Hydra officers stare back at him. All faces identified by Tony’s system. Alive. Last seen in the outskirts of some small country in Europe. Irrelevant low ranking officials that had managed to survive the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D and have been hiding and secretly continuing Hydra’s mission underground ever since. Low officials or not, it was one too many.

Bucky freezes in his spot when Tony swipes the screen. The billionaire goes on a rant saying this particular face cannot be identified, which was according to Tony, bullshit because his face recognition system is the best in the world. The rest of the team is arguing and flipping through countless files and internet archives. But Bucky knows. He knows that face and those haunting eyes that he still sees in his dreams.

“Buck,” a voice calls out. “You know her, don’t you?”

He looks up at Steve from his spot, his best friend's face worried and all knowing.

One thing about Hydra was that they were always prepared. They had backups and multiple plans ready, or else how would two heads take its place when one was cut off? Unfortunately for the world, Hydra managed to make another deadly assassin, one whose work was so discreet and nimble that even intelligence didn't know they existed.

You were a ghost story that lived in the shadows of the Winter Soldier. You were another one of Hydra’s prize possessions—less known, but just as deadly.

With Steve’s comment, all eyes are now on Bucky. A pregnant pause fills the air and he gulps before he confesses, “I wasn’t the only one.”

The room becomes tense. The war that they thought was over suddenly looms over like an unpredicted oncoming storm. “Jesus Christ, Barnes. You couldn’t have informed us about her earlier?” says Tony.

“I thought,” he says, shifting his eyes onto the ground, “I thought she fell with S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Bucky couldn’t find you anywhere after he escaped their grasp. After he joined the Avengers, he tried once again secretly using Tony’s technology but it was to no avail—it always ended up being a dead end. And for that, he assumed Hydra had put you out of your misery the day they were caught.

But the face on the screen says otherwise. And suddenly, Bucky feels very guilty.

Steve clears his throat, “Well, they were picked up not too long ago heading north. If we leave now, we might be able to find them and stop them once and for all.”

Everyone looks at each other, debating on his proposal. “What the Captain said. Everybody, suit up. Quinjet leaves in ten,” says Tony.

On the jet, Bucky stares off into space but countless questions run through his mind.

Steve walks over and sits beside him. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asks, voice quiet.

Bucky sighs, “I just… I thought she was gone.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”

He looks up, wondering if he should tell Steve the truth. That he’s not brooding about the fact that he concealed you to them. After a moment, Bucky speaks up. “When we get there, let me handle her. Please.”

Steve didn’t know what kind of history Bucky had with you. But judging from the look his best-friend is giving, it’s more than what Steve could understand or even comprehend but he trusts Bucky and so, he gives him a nod. “She’s all yours.”

After scouting the area and tracing the location to a very hidden underground warehouse in the middle of nowhere, they split up. The warehouse was dark and dusty, surely abandoned, but Bucky knew better—it was their facade behind the most sinister of activities. Through the comms, Natasha announces that she has already taken care of all the troops in the West wing. Moments later, Sam reports that he has eliminated one of the Hydra officers. They wouldn’t last long. Hydra didn’t have much resources or time to rebuild—their current empire was weak, they were no match for the Avengers this time.

The only person Bucky’s truly worried about is you. The fact that he trained you, made you into what you were today already gave him the chills. He’s not the Winter Soldier anymore, but he was certain that you were still in that killer mindset that Hydra forced upon you.

Step by step, Bucky walks through the quiet hallway, the echoes of his footsteps the only noise. It’s cold here, he notices, which gives him flashbacks to those days in his dirty cell and the cryostasis chamber. Down a hallway to the next, round a corner and another, there wasn’t a single soul in the eerily Eastern wing.

But he spoke too soon, because seconds later, a garrote wire was around his neck. The swift invisible steps and the perfect pressure that was being used to quickly cut off his air supply was all too familiar. He knows this move, he taught this move. You’re here, and you’re dragging him backwards.

Before all oxygen gets cut off to his brain, he jabs his elbow backwards and hits you hard on the rib which releases the hold you have on him and sends you stumbling back. Bucky takes a moment to regain his breath but you’re on your feet again. He looks at you and for a moment he freezes, then you let out a sinister grin. “Nice to see you again, Soldat,” you taunt, before running towards him.

Bucky’s deflecting your punches one after another. Maybe he’s glad he was the one who taught you everything you know because your moves were predictable—if it were another person, there is no doubt they would’ve been on the ground with multiple concussions bleeding out already. You’re ruthless when you do a triple roundhouse kick on him. On the fourth one, he manages to catch your leg and twists it, sending you to the ground with a groan.

How familiar this scene was, Bucky thinks.

Some forty-years ago, Hydra brought a woman into the training room. There was no further instruction than to train you and that’s what he did. He could tell you were well trained already—compliant and pliable. You were good. And you were just like him, injected with a serum that made you a hundred times more efficient and stronger. In just under a year, Hydra would start sending you on missions. Sometimes with him, sometimes alone.

During training, the both of you would spar for hours, leaving each other bloody and bruised, but it didn’t matter to the overlookers, the both of you would heal in a few hours anyways.

Once you pick yourself back up, he pulls a gun out on you. “Stop this,” he commands.

You smirk, “You going to shoot me, Soldat? I want to see you try.”

He clenches his jaw. You continue to look at him, a dark look on your face that shows no sign of true recognition.

His thoughts are disrupted when you tackle him onto the ground. You kick his gun away and pin his arms down as you straddle him. “I’m going to kill you,” you declare, “I’m going to put a bullet through your head.”

When he looks up at you, your eyes are full of rage. Bucky doesn’t know whether that’s the brainwashed version of you talking or the actual you talking—maybe both.

“What are you going to do after you kill me?” he says, irritated. C’mon, please recognize me. “This is all that remains of Hydra. Half the troops are already dead. One of your new leaders is dead. In a few hours, Hydra will be no more. What will you do after that? What are you going to do after you kill me?”

“What does it matter? You’re my mission. I’m going to finish it.”

He groans at your stubbornness that was identical to his Soldier persona.

He says your name slowly. “Get off. You can walk away from this.”

You frown, but he continues, “I know how you feel. You’re feeling helpless.” He clears his throat, “There’s someone behind this version of you. I want to talk to her.”

“What are you talking about?” you utter in annoyance. “Stop stalling.”

He says that name again, with calamity and care. You want to rip out his tongue.

“Let me talk to her. Please.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about!” you shout, grabbing for the gun that’s strapped onto your waist. “Stop talkin–”

“I was in the cell next to yours. You liked the colour green. You were wearing white when we first met. You always wanted to visit Bucharest. You hated the leaky cold showers in the Siberian facility,” he rambles, trying to remember every single thing about you in a desperate attempt to get your attention so this version of you won’t shoot him in the face.

And for a moment, it works because your hand freezes on the grip of your gun. He takes that moment to flip you over, so you’re under him now, hands pinned above your head. He takes your gun and throws it behind him.

You snarl at him while trying to escape his grasp. “I know you’re under there,” he says. “Please, come through. Please talk to me.”

Your face scrunches in pain, not from him—he would never hurt you—but from the mental warfare that’s currently going on in your mind. You close your eyes as he speaks again. “Listen to my voice, you know me, don’t you? мой милая.”

My darling.

For a moment, your entire body tenses up and then you let out a painful breath. When your eyelids start to flutter open, he finally sees the eyes he came to know and rely on—eyes he came to love.

The both of you are looking at each other unblinking. A scene neither of you expected but always dreamt about.

You break the silence with a whisper of, “James?”

Bucky slowly nods at your disbelief. Finally, he thinks. But such respite doesn’t last long, because seconds later, you hook your foot under his and flip him over and escape his grasp.

There's darkness in your eyes and he can tell that the Soldate is back and the fighting resumes.

You’re chasing him down the twisting hallway and when you catch up, you grab his shoulder and throw a punch to his jaw. He stumbles back and then a voice comes through the comms.

“Just took down the second one.” Steve. “Bucky, how are you holding up? You’ve been quiet ever since we split up.”

He’s trying his best to block your hand, which now has a damn pocket knife. Your quick movements are starting to tire him out. Maybe he taught you too well, he thinks.

“Buck? Bucky. Confirm your status, right now.”

Groaning in frustration, he taps his earpiece. “I’m fine,” he grunts. A second later, “Shit!” he huffs out as you nearly slice his face.

“You don’t sound fine. Is she with you? I’m sending back up.”

“No!” he says, “Don’t send anyone. I can handle her.”

In truth, he’s struggling right now—your stamina has always been better than his—but he’s worried that you’re going to accidentally get hurt and even more agitated when people appear. His main priority was keeping you safe. Fuck the mission statement they talked about back on the Quinjet.

You’re angry—no, you’re extremely angry at him. It doesn’t take a genius to tell. It’s a mixture of pure rage from both the brainwashed and actual you.

He supposed he deserved it. You should be angry. Because for the longest time, it was you and him.

Other than turning you into a ruthless assassin just like him, an unexpected companionship also formed during those hazy in-between moments when the two of you weren’t frozen or on the metal chair getting fried by those machines—during the times when he was just Bucky and you were just you, two unfortunate innocent souls that shared the same suffering.

They weren’t pleasant moments. It was dehumanising. It was getting shoved into draughty cells with nothing but a blanket until it was time to train or time to embark on a mission. Luckily, your cells were next to each other and it made the endless nights a little more bearable. He was a little off-putting at first, but when he yelled at you to stop crying because they would torture you even more for it, you knew he meant well.

During your shared time together, glimpses of your true selves would seldom come up and you would tell each other about the little bits and pieces of a life once known. And the both of you would hold onto each other's memories and stories in case the other forgets.

And whenever they prep the two of you for the chamber due to there being no current missions for the time being, the two of you would look at each other—a look of longing with the secret squeezing of each other's hand before going under.

Despite the absolute awful situation the two of you were in at the time, the both of you were hopeful for the next shared moments together. Because even when all hope was gone, you had each other. And that was good enough for the two of you.

He misses you. So damn much.

“Shut up,” you mutter.

He didn’t even realise he said it outloud. “Well, I do,” he admits, his back hitting a wall.

“You talk too much, Soldat,” you say, creeping up on him. “I ought to cut your throat.”

“I’m sorry I left you with them.”

You halt in your steps and your jaw ticks. In a second, you pounce on him, your knife against his throat. He’s gripping your hand to stop you from continuing your job.

He says your name again. You’re pushing but he’s pushing back just as hard. “I’m sorry…” he repeats, “I’m so sorry.”

The desperation in his voice… You glance up at him slowly and he sees the pink forming in your eyes and your trembling lips. “What are you doing? What are you doing to me?” you whisper.

He sees the internal war behind your eyes once again. Bucky gulps for a moment before letting go of your hand, trusting that you won’t do any actual harm, and moves his hands so he’s cupping your face, firm enough so you’re forced to look at him. You look into his eyes for a second, then a minute, and for a moment, everything stops. Your breath hitches, because those eyes… those arctic blues… you know them. You fell in love with them many years ago.

A realisation washes over your face, one that Bucky doesn’t miss. You’re back.

The first tear falls. Then the second. “Bucky.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispers.

You let out a small cry before you press the blade harder against his neck, your grip a vice from his betrayal. He could feel the sharp cold metal pierce through his skin ever so slightly, but he doesn’t try and stop you.

“Give me a reason to not kill you right now,” you grit through tears. “You left me. You left me behind to rot alone. You promised me. You fucking promised,” you say, voice laced with venom and so much hurt.

Bucky’s heart breaks at the sadness of your voice. Because he did promise. There wasn’t much to do in the cells other than throw around false hope. But whenever he told you he was going to escape one day and that he was going to take you with him—it didn’t feel like false promises at all because it wasn’t, and you knew it too.

Until he broke that promise and left you all alone.

“I didn’t mean to,” he says, voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to leave you there with them.”

“I waited for you,” you cry. “Day and night I waited for you to come back. Even when they relocated, I waited for you because I knew you’d find me.”

You remember that day clearly. Everyone was in a frenzy when the death of Alexander Pierce broke out and that they could not locate the Soldat. For a moment, you could taste your own freedom because government officials would come anytime now and finally arrest all these criminals. But right when they came, a few Hydra officers managed to escape and took you with them, and when you woke up, you didn’t know where the hell you were. But even then you didn’t lose hope because James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, the name you committed to memory, was going to come for you just like he promised.

Until days, months, and eventually, a year came with no sign of him.

You were angry at first, but it slowly turned into worry because what if something bad had happened to him? But what do you know? You were stuck in this building and only went out whenever they spoke those trigger words to you. And you were always under their watchful eyes, giving you no chance to even attempt an escape. Surely he would never break his promise to you so something must’ve happened to him, you told yourself multiple times.

But he was standing here right in front of you. Alive. We’re under attack, your handler said to you moments ago, Kill the Soldat before he kills you.

“You’re a liar. You never cared about me,” you hiss.

Sometimes, it got too much. But whenever reality was a bit too hard to endure, Bucky was there, always reaching his hand out to you through the metal cage, which you took and held tight. And it meant the world to you, that someone cared.

“All those moments, did it even mean anything to you?”

He uses this opportunity to pull your arms down slightly, knife finally away from his neck and his eyes start to sting from his own tears. “They meant everything to me. I care about you.”

You look up at him with a defeated expression and Bucky never wanted to punch himself in the face more. “Then why? Why didn’t you come back for me?”

“I did,” he chokes out. “When I escaped, the first thing I did was go back for you, but the facility had already been raided and there was no one there. I checked every inch of the building.”

Bucky had never felt so scared, because what if the government took you too? They would never understand—framing you as a villain even though that was far from the truth. But there was no news of your capture, so with a breath of relief, Bucky continued to look through other known Hydra facilities.

“I tried my best looking for you, but I also had to be careful because I was a wanted man at the time. When months passed by and there were no clues, I thought that maybe you had escaped. I was in Bucharest waiting for you. Remember how you said you always wanted to go there? I knew that if you escaped, you’d find me there. Even when you didn’t show, I never gave up. Steve… I think I told you about him once—he found me, he helped me and cleared my name. After that, I still searched for you but it all ended up being dead ends. And…” he pauses for a moment, “and so I thought you were dead. I should’ve tried harder. I’m sorry.”

He had mourned you and blamed himself endlessly for it.

He knows he should’ve asked for help, but instead, he took this task upon himself until it got too much—because that was the one thing he struggled with the most, asking for help.

When his side of the story finally comes to light, you break into a sob. “I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he says, “but please, drop the weapon and let me help you.”

You swallow hard at his confession. He never stopped looking for you. You didn’t even consider how hard it must’ve been for him after everything and yet you’re lashing out on him.

“How are you going to help me?” you say. “I’m a mess. All you have to do is say those words and I turn into a weapon.”

Twelve. Ember. Fragment. Nine. Academy. Order. Frigid. Yearning. Blue.

Those were your trigger words.

“I got you out of your trance, didn’t I?” he says with a gentle smile.

Hydra needed you to rebuild their empire and they relied on those nine words to do so. To them, those nine words were your greatest weakness but one of them, the last one, the one they liked to spit out in vexation, was also your greatest strength—your salvation.

Blue.

You think back, moments prior, when all he had to do was use his voice and all you had to do was look into the blues of his eyes. Hydra can repeat those words all they want, but Bucky would always be able to bring you back.

At that, your grip relaxes and the knife finally drops onto the floor, it’s noise ricocheting off the walls.

“There’s a place called Wakanda and I know someone there who can help you. Her name’s Ayo and she’s amazing. She helped me overcome my words.”

He brings his hands back up to cradle your face and you shutter at the familiar touch—at the calluses on his palms. “And I think you’ll like it there. It’s quiet and there’s so much… green.”

You let out a small laugh through your tears but doubt still fills your mind. “But… all the things I did,” you whimper, “I did such terrible unforgivable things. There’s… there’s so much blood on my hands.”

Sadness flares around his heart. It was all so familiar. He knows the feeling.

“It’s not going to be easy. God knows how long it took for me to believe that none of it was my fault. But let me be the first one to tell you,” he says, wiping your tears away with his thumb. “None of what you did was your fault. You were a victim.” He swallows a deep breath, “There are going to be days where it’ll be too much too bear and there are going to be nights where all those casualties will haunt you,” he admits. “But… but you’ll get there. Someday, you’ll learn to stop punishing yourself for something you didn’t do.”

And he vows that he’ll help you every step of the way.

You breathe out slowly, digesting all his words. “You can trust me,” he tells you, “I won’t let you down this time. I’ll be here.”

Blinking up at him, the small hesitant part of you so desperately wanted to say, “How can I trust you?” but his eyes were telling you everything you needed to know. Because it was filled with nothing but honour and truth.

He breaks away from you and reaches out his hand. An invitation. You stare at it for a while, then you slowly lift yours and brush your fingers amongst his before grabbing it tightly—a truce of sorts, a promise. He squeezes back in return, a loving smile on his face, just like all those nights many moonlights ago.

Your breath hitches when he pulls you into his embrace, your face burying perfectly into the valley of his chest. He wraps his arms around you in urgency, in fear, almost afraid you’ll slip out if he doesn’t.

“It’s over,” he mumbles into your hair.

Because two floors down an explosion erupts, finishing off the last remaining garrison of troops. Three hallways down, Natasha sets fire to a room that contained the other small red leather book that held those nine suffocating words written in Russian. Outside, the last Hydra officer attempting to flee falls to his knees from an arrow to the chest. And the only hope they had left to rebuild their regime was safely in Bucky’s arms.

He pulls away and uses his thumb to rub gently across your cheek, “It’s over. The war is finally over.”

Now that the worst is over, Bucky’s hopeful. There will be other conflicts to come, that was just how it worked, but this one, the one that held you and him underwater for years was finally over. War always took too much, but this time, it gave something back. Because among the ashes and ruins you came back to him, no more oceans in between.

“What do we do now?” you press nervously. You were taken at a young age and spent years in the Red Room before you were sold off to Hydra. Like Bucky, you’re in the wrong time period, there’s no one to go back to.

There’s so many things you could do, Bucky thinks. You can finally start living the life you deserved, the life that was taken from you too early. He’ll have to explain all this to his teammates but he knows they’ll understand. They treated him so well, there’s no doubt they’ll show the same kindness for you. Then, he’ll go with you to Wakanda, get rid of the words, maybe stay there for a while so you could heal—maybe show you the goats he took care of during his time there.

You’ll probably adjust to the 21st century better than him—you won’t need to start off with a flip phone, that’s for sure. He’ll make you listen to all the great records and watch all the movies you missed out on. There’s so many things he wanted to do with you. He knows you have no memories, no recollection. It didn’t matter, Bucky thinks, he would make new memories with you, ones worth cherishing and remembering. If you’ll have him, of course.

But first and most importantly, “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? Then we can talk about it,” he says, rubbing the grime off your nose.

He grabs your hand and heads for the exit. But before he does, you pick up your knife from the floor and in one quick motion, you spin around and throw it. The knife embeds itself into the wall a few metres away, right next to a prying face. You stand in front of Bucky and stare at the intruder with a murderous gaze and Bucky’s heart races at the thought of you still wanting to protect him after everything.

The blond raises his arms up in surrender.

“Steve,” Bucky says from behind and you briefly recognize that name. You turn around to look at him and he meets your eyes, nodding. You relax your stance.

“Hi,” Steve says, voice slightly hoarse. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

Bucky scoffs at him, as if he wasn’t eavesdropping the whole time.

Steve looks at the both of you, then a gentle smile adorns his face. “C’mon, the rest are waiting outside for you both.”

You step forward. This is it. Freedom. A new life. Bucky notices your hesitation as you suddenly stop in your tracks. Intertwining his fingers with yours, he squeezes with reassurance. You take a deep breath, then the two of you follow Steve to the exit, leaving behind the smoke and memories of your old life.

Outside, the sun comes up slowly but surely on the horizon, painting the awakening sky a gentle warm hue of oranges and pinks.

A new beginning awaits.

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky #bucky barnes

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kaibutsushidousha · 1 month

Text

Kodaka April Fools tweets 2024

Lying just because it's April Fools' is so dull. Honestly painful to watch. Lying in general doesn't do you any good. In my younger days, I told every lie I could, saying some genuinely insane stuff about being a supreme leader of evil and whatnot, and thanks to that, now that I'm in my thirties, I got famous for all the wrong reasons and can't find a stable job because people think I'm associated with the yakuza... Sigh, I wanna deck my cringe younger self's face. Quit lying for fun while you can.

My classmates aren't doing great either. Thinking you're hot shit during your school days always comes back to bite you... My advice to my past self: slow and steady effort is worth more than any talent. Also, the part of life you spent larping with that silly horse laugh is not going to be one you'll want to remember later. I wish I could make that clear to him. White lies aren't a thing. Talent is never enough. My class is proof of that. Wanna know what my classmates are like now that we're in our thirties?

Akamatsu became a piano teacher. Her player skills capped off in her teens, it seems. But she's not that good at teaching so she's considered kinda mid at her job. And now she's struggling with the father of a student incessantly hitting on her. Tough world to live in.

Toujou opened a housekeeping company but she was too strict with her employees so everyone quit. And now she's doing everything on her own. Sucks to be in your thirties without any successors or employees. She's a prime example of how being so much better than anyone else doesn't do you any good. Well, she's always working for celebrities, so she's doing well financially, but I heard about some major court fight about a missing item under suspicion of theft from one of her clients. That can't be nice.

Yumeno got to her thirties still saying magic is real, so she's past the point of no return. She agrees that's an unhinged way to live, but she's too old to suddenly change gimmicks. Work takes her all over the country, but her gimmick doesn't allow her to publicly drink, so she has to get plastered alone in her hotel room after shows. I wish she could fix her life with real magic.

Harukawa? ...Haven't heard that name in a long time. Now she was a living edgy fantasy. The past tense was because I hadn't heard of her in a long time. I don't know the details, but apparently, she went to some war zone outside of Japan because her first love didn't want to date her. Takes some real edgelord to react to a broken heart like that, but if she's still alive, I have no idea how her thirties are treating her. My personal guess is that she's a mother of many.

Chabashira opened her Aikido school but is having a hard time attracting students. So she had the idea of starting an anti-sexual-harassment campaign that could double as advertisement, but thanks to her cluelessness when it comes to romance, she got canceled for mistakenly tossing men in regular couples. She's still doing the "degenerate males" bit in her thirties. Girl really needs to get on with the times. Rumor goes that she still downs huge packs of tequila bottles with Yumeno every now and then. Really don't think there's any salvaging her reputation.

Shirogane is an office lady still continuing her cosplay hobby on the side. She could be doing well if she knew how to keep her mouth shut but frequently rambles about cosplay history and etiquette, so no one likes having her around. Stay emotionally dependent on a single hobby long enough and your passion starts to close you off to others. That's her problem.

Angie was the most successful in the class! She made big money both on the art and the religion fronts. However, there were some controversies about her devotees selling counterfeits of her paintings at exorbitant prices and one magazine made a huge news coverage of it, which resulted in her catching the police's attention. She's been recently untraceable, with the rumors saying that she'll never be back to Japan.

Oh, and Iruma... Up until some point, she had the best life of all of us. She made big money off of her inventions' patents. So far so good. Things only started going off-rails after she married an ex-stripper. The two started a YouTube channel together. And later, her husband ran in last year's elections and lost big time. They got an awful debt from his election campaign and she had to get into side jobs to pay it off. And her husband? Disappeared. No word from Iruma herself about what happened. Tough world to live in.

No further updates from Kodaka in the past 3 hours, so I assume he went to sleep and will come back to tweet about the 7 remaining boys in the morning.

#kokichi ouma #kaede akamatsu #kirumi toujou #himiko yumeno #maki harukawa #tenko chabashira #tsumugi shirogane #angie yonaga #miu iruma

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stevieschrodinger · 7 months

Text

Baker Steve/Rock Star Eddie wrong number AU

Part One

Part Two

PART THREE

"It's like a TV show, but on YouTube."

"Right," Steve answers, half listening to Dustin's explanation, "so it, like what, has an air time, or whatever?"

"Yeah, like a series."

"And it's just, what, famous people playing dipshits and dickheads?"

"Steeeeeeeeeeeevvvvveeeeeeeeeeee why are you like this?"

"Dunno," Steve shrugs, trying to read a recipe online. Unfortunately that's resulted in his having to scroll past someones entire fucking life story and he's ready to give up and try and work out the dumb Oreo cake recipe himself, "just lucky, I guess."

Dustin drops his head on the kitchen counter like Steve is the greatest difficulty he's ever going to face.

"So why do you need to be here to watch this?"

"Because we all want to watch it together, the guests are Corroded Coffin, they all like, play, the whole band, it's so cool-"

"Corroded Coffin? Playing your nerd game?" Steve's interest leaks through before he can stop it, "I mean, like, I think I've heard of them?" The last thing he needs is the kids finding out he's been kind of friends kind of flirting kind of maybe wants to date the actual Eddie Munson.

Dustin looks at him skeptically, "yeah...so you-"

"You can all watch it here, it's fine...I'll make cookies."

Dustin's completely distracted by his own success, instantly whipping out his phone to inform the other kids. Steve's pretty sure their group chat is called 'No Steve's allowed' but he hasn't actually found out for sure yet.

Steve does bake cookies. All the kids are gathered around his smart TV, absolutely demolishing them while they wait for this thing to start. It's like, an actual channel, with intros and graphics and stuff, a logo that reads 'Final Roll.'

And there's Eddie and the band, sitting around a table with two dudes who must run the channel. They all have the bits of paper and dice and little figures that Steve's used to seeing when the kids commandeer his dining room table.

There's preemptive ramble, and Steve leans forward a little every time Eddie's in shot. He's relieved all the kids are all sitting in front of him and all glued to the TV, so he can ogle in peace. They do introductions, and then everyone introduces their characters.

"May I introduce Sir Steven, the half elf paladin," behind Eddie Gareth rolls his eyes so hard his whole fucking body moves. Steve can see him and Geoff mouthing something to each other. Steve can only assume it's because Eddie has named his character, presumably, after him, "he has a sworn oath to always protect those weaker than himself."

Steve's heart fucking melts.

Steve's phone is buzzing. He's prepared. He knows Eddie's back in the country, they've been talking for months. Steve's kind of done waiting, and he's ready to press his advantage. He's had this set up for a little while, just waiting for the right moment. He presses play, and then answers the phone.

"Hey Stevie how-...are you listening to Corroded Coffin?"

"Yeah, yeah," Steve turns it down, bomb dropped, trap sprung, advantage played, "the kids absolutely love them, they're trying to get me into them even though they're not exactly my thing."

"Right, ah, right, what do you, uhm, think?"

"Yeah. Still not my thing-"

"Oh."

"But I really like it when the lead guy sings."

"...yeah?"

"Yeah, not the like, shouty growly singing, I can't understand a fucking thing he's saying-" Eddie chuckles, "but like, the parts where he properly sings. I think he has a beautiful voice."

"I ah, well, I mean, I bet the, uhm, shouty bits are hard work, you know. I expect that takes a lot of, you know, practice. Hell on the throat. I imagine, I would guess anyway, I don't actually, like know-"

"No no, yeah, well, maybe he should just sing more then, save those vocal chords, or whatever. I'd like that a lot."

"Yeah?" Steve can practically hear Eddie blushing down the phone. Eddie's so cute when he goes shy.

"Yeah." There's a long beat of silence before Steve goes in for the kill, "the kids are trying to get me to go see them. They're in the states now, apparently. Will be playing a gig in Indie."

"Yeah they are- I mean, I assume they are, most bands, uhm, yeah-" And Steve is hardly holding it together, Eddie is such a bad liar, and he's trying so hard not to lie at all. Steve doesn't know how he;s keeping his tone normal and not letting the whole ass cat out of the bag.

"And the kids are absolutely itching to go, you know? But tickets man, they're all doing every chore they can find to get some extra cash, but tickets are pricey, and for eight of us? Because I'll need someone else to help me chaperone and, you know..."

"I. I might...know a guy. Maybe. Like, because of the band I might...know someone who can get you tickets."

"Seriously? Eddie that would be incredible, the kids will absolutely loose their shit."

"Yeah, ah, is your work email cool?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course of course, man, the kids are going to love you for like, forever."

And maybe I will too, Steve just about manages to keep the words inside.

@steves-yellow-cardigin @melodymeddler @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao

@superduckmilkshake @she-collects-smut @paintsplatteredandimperfect @resident-gay-bitch

#eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington #steddie #my fic writing #fan fic stuff #fic wip #ficlet #rock star eddie munson #baker steve harrington #dungeons and dragons

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qqueenofhades · 1 year

Note

How do we balance the tentative joy of hearing about the indictment with the overwhelming and crushing knowledge that not a goddamn thing is going to come of this and ultimately nothing will change?

Because

reasons.

(actually i feel like if the skies split open and shithead goes to jail it'll just leave a giant sucking void for desantis to slime his way into the party's graces and he'll charge full speed ahead into nuking this country from the inside)

Okay, look. Everyone reacts differently, we've all been through a fuckload of trauma, and all that, but I just... really don't get the pre-emptive "don't get your hopes up, nothing will happen and nothing will change." I know that people do it as a defense mechanism, but we spent months hearing that Trump would win the 2020 election. (He lost it.) Then we heard that all his lawsuits to overturn might actually work. (They didn't.) Then we heard that he wouldn't be impeached after January 6. (He was.) Then we heard that he wouldn't be indicted, and well, today, he was. This is unprecedented in the history of America. Over 250+ years, and a current or former president had never been indicted for anything. Not even goddamn Nixon was formally charged, and Biden definitely isn't gonna pardon Trump the same way Ford did with Tricky Dick. And now that someone has finally bit the bullet and gone first, there are a whole cascade of other indictments lined up and waiting to be finished.

We don't know what will happen, but something will. Trump will be arrested and arraigned, and yet again: this has never happened before. Just throwing up our hands and going "well guess nothing's gonna happen and he'll get off scot free!" is NOT the energy we want to be bringing here. It's time to push forward, make sure that the Manhattan DA, and everyone else with pending charges against him, hold that motherfucker's greasy orange feet to the fire and make him FRY. As for DeSantis, as I have written about before, he's not smart, he's not a good candidate, and his ideas are not by any means universally popular. Fascists thrive on making you feel disempowered and hopeless, so it's no use to fight them since they'll just win anyway, and all the terrible events of the last few years have made it an appealing idea, but... c'mon now.

Everyone insisted for months that Trump would never be charged with anything. But almost 60% of the country thinks that the criminal cases against him are permanently disqualifying, and this is before any major cascades. This whole "if you dare to arrest Trump, he'll win in a landslide in 2024!" psy-op is just that: a psy-op. A trick. A bluff. They're shit scared that the Big Mac God King is finally on the brink of an actual downfall and facing consequences for his actions for the first time in his fucking miserable life, and they're trying to freak us out of doing it, because they have nothing left. So I say: get him. Run him over. Then back up the truck and run him over again.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts #the giant orange monster

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storiesforthemoonchild · 4 months

Text

Know You Better | Aitana Bonmatí x Reader

sorta based on this request... idk anymore, enjoy :)

“Say your name first,” you nudge Aitana's shoulder. The bright lights hitting both of you harshly as you get ready to start the interview.

“Aitana…” she trails off, staring at you blankly.

“No, say your whole intro… ‘Hi, I’m Aitana blah blah blah’,” you try to tell her through your laugh.

The media team had pulled you both before practice to film a game of ‘This or That’ where you had to guess what the other would pick. The competitive side of you sparking immediately. You were confident that there was no one that you knew more than Aitana. A bet quickly put in place:

“Want to make it interesting?” You teased on the way to the media room.

Aitana rolls her eyes, having known you long enough to know this was coming, “amor you always do this and you always lose.”

“No I don’t!” You deny, arm sliding across her shoulder. “Fine since I always lose you should have no problem with it then, sí?”

“Fine, what is it?” She huffs.

A smirk stretches across your face, “loser shows up to the next match in the other’s national team jersey.” You were desperate to see your country's crest on her chest with your last name on the back.

“No,” her prompt response makes you chuckle. Aitana had refused every time you even mentioned it, even if it was just around your apartment.

“I thought you were so sure you were going to win,” you try to provoke the competitive side you know she also shared.

You reach the room and Aitana’s eyes size you up, thinking about you in her national jersey as well. “Show up to the match and you have to post pictures in it.”

You reach a hand out, devilish smirk in place as she takes your hand in hers.

“Ready?” You both nod as the team's content manager counts you in.

Smoothly going through your intros and picking up your whiteboards. The admin reads out the first question, “night on the town or cozy night in?”

“So easy,” you both say scribbling down your responses. You both write what the other would pick before saying aloud what your response was. “Cozy night in,” you say in unison as you flip the boards around.

“Okay, 1-1. Next question, call or text?”

You think about it for a moment. Aitana loved a cute text when you were apart, but she also loved a good FaceTime. You knew she would get your response right, the girl usually having to send you multiple texts before you even responded. You go with your gut writing out text.

Again you both get it right. “Summer or winter?” You can’t help but laugh thinking of the girl bundled up during the cold months. Aitana shooting daggers your way already knowing what you were thinking.

“Unlike me, Tana hates the cold,” you say confidently as you flip the board around, only for your jaw to drop as you see she put winter for her answer. “Liar, you are cheating,” you protest.

“I love winter,” Aitana says, a cheeky smile on her face.

“Aitana takes the lead 3-2. Read the book or watch the movie?”

“Ha, nerd,” you mumble under your breath knowing Aitana loved reading. It was one of your favorite things about her, seeing her wrapped up in a blanket with a book in hand.

You both say your answers as you flip the board and once again Aitana says the complete opposite of what you both know to be true, “I love a good movie.”

“No! You’re a cheat, no fair,” you pout arms folded tightly across your chest as Aitana doubles over in laughter.

The game goes on for a few more questions, coming down to the last one with the score evening out to 7-7. “Okay last one to break the tie. Score or assist?” You both immediately write your answers. “Okay one at a time, (y/n) first.”

“Score a goal. There’s no better feeling,” you shrug as Aitana turns her board, of course getting it right.

“Okay, 8-7. Aitana in the lead, it all comes down to this. Score or assist?”

Aitana looks your way, a soft smile on her face that makes you blush. You hated when she made you turn to mush in public with just one glance, “I pick assist if it’s to her. She loves to score goals and I like to see her happy when she celebrates.”

You turn your board around, Aitana’s eyes dropping down to see you wrote, goal. Her eyes back on yours a moment later, trying to gauge your reaction at losing. While you were usually a sore loser, her answer made up for it. You accept the defeat gracefully. You let her brag about her win and let out a few gripes at her blatant cheating, but it’s all in good fun.

As the weekend approaches you have long forgotten about the bet you two had in place. Going about your usual match day routine when Aitana bounces in the room, “what is that? I got you a present amor,” she smiles brightly, patting the space next to her on the bed.

She hands you a box and you take it, giving it a playful shake. You rip the top off, pulling back the paper as you are met with the red jersey with a gold 6 and AITANA printed on the back. “I’m not wearing that,” you tell her firmly, placing the box back in her lap.

“That’s not fair! You would’ve made me wear yours if you won,” she whines, following behind you to the closet you share. “Please, you will look so cute.”

“I will be a disgrace to my country if I put that on.”

“No you will simply just be letting everyone know you are mine,” Aitana wraps her arms around your waist, her head laying against your back. “I would do it for you.”

This gets your attention, quickly turning in her arms as you look down at her adorable pouty face, “you will?”

Aitana swiftly shakes her head, “I said would, as in I would have IF I lost.”

“You CHEATED,” you continue to whine as her hand rubs soothingly against your back.

She rolls her eyes, “I will wear… ONE time, in the house, NO PICTURES!”

“One picture… for me only,” you smirk, pulling her closer in your arms and kissing away the frown.

You can see the conflict in her eyes for a minute before they soften at your pout, “fine one picture and you tell no one.”

“I love you, you’ll look amazing with my last name on your back,” you tease.

“Yeah yeah. Love you too,” she brushes off making her way back towards the room. “Put it on,” she shoves the jersey into your hands. You groan, pulling the shirt you had planned to wear off and catching Aitana’s eyes roaming your stomach before you throw the jersey over your head and she steps back to look you over.

You do a dramatic spin for her, watching as she tucks her bottom lip behind her teeth, “Hermosa.”

“You are just saying that. Can I put a jacket over it?” You ask, glancing at yourself in the full length mirror. Aitana shakes her head again pulling you into her arms. “I don’t want to wear it.”

She shrugs leaving a kiss on your cheek and pulling you along to the car. The girls on the team are having a blast when you both walk in. Aitana’s beaming smile lights up the room as she lifts your joined hands proudly. “You are lucky I love you,” you mumble to Aitana as wolf whistles and screaming continues in the locker room.

Later in the evening you finally gain the courage to check your social media. Knowing full well the team admin would have posted you in the Spain jersey. The comments are atrocious, the girls teasing you in the comments while your national teammates jokingly disown you.

You quickly post the photos Aitana so happily took of you earlier with the caption: I lost a bet, but #6 is kind of cute.

With a heavy sigh you make your way to the bedroom, seeing Aitana’s eyes light up as she sees the post. Her small frame tucked securely in the blankets. “I’m never putting it on again,” you tell her.

“That’s okay, I have pictures,” she jokes, throwing back the covers as you go to climb in the bed. You freeze taking in your national team jersey as a smile covers your face. “Figured I wear it now so it won’t be on long,” she shrugs.

“Oh no, I’ll make sure it stays on the whole time,” you laugh, making your way to her as she groans.

#aitana bonmati #aitana bonmati imagine #aitana bonmati x reader #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #barca femeni x reader

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sillylotrpolls · 3 months

Text

(Relevant text below the poll)

Inspired by this post by @roselightfairy and replies by @herrhasen, @enide-s-dear, @unnamedelement, @dragonfirez, and @carlandrea.

If you'd like to refresh your memory of the Fellowship at its bitchiest (and Boromir at his best), the relevant text is below the cut.

Excerpted from The Fellowship of the Ring, Book II, Chapter 3: The Ring Goes South

Gimli looked up and shook his head. 'Caradhras has not forgiven us.' he said. 'He has more snow yet to fling at us, if we go on. The sooner we go back and down the better.'

To this all agreed, but their retreat was now difficult. It might well prove impossible. Only a few paces from the ashes of their fire the snow lay many feet deep, higher than the heads of the hobbits; in places it had been scooped and piled by the wind into great drifts against the cliff.

'If Gandalf would go before us with a bright flame, he might melt a path for you,' said Legolas. The storm had troubled him little, and he alone of the Company remained still light of heart.

'If Elves could fly over mountains, they might fetch the Sun to save us,' answered Gandalf. 'But I must have something to work on. I cannot burn snow.'

'Well,' said Boromir, 'when heads are at a loss bodies must serve, as we say in my country. The strongest of us must seek a way. See! Though all is now snow-clad, our path, as we came up, turned about that shoulder of rock down yonder. It was there that the snow first began to burden us. If we could reach that point, maybe it would prove easier beyond. It is no more than a furlong off, I guess.'

'Then let us force a path thither, you and I!' said Aragorn.

Aragorn was the tallest of the Company, but Boromir, little less in height, was broader and heavier in build. He led the way, and Aragorn followed him. Slowly they moved off, and were soon toiling heavily. In places the snow was breast-high, and often Boromir seemed to be swimming or burrowing with his great arms rather than walking.

Legolas watched them for a while with a smile upon his lips, and then he turned to the others. 'The strongest must seek a way, say you? But I say: let a ploughman plough, but choose an otter for swimming, and for running light over grass and leaf or over snow-an Elf.'

With that he sprang forth nimbly, and then Frodo noticed as if for the first time, though he had long known it, that the Elf had no boots, but wore only light shoes, as he always did, and his feet made little imprint in the snow.

'Farewell!' he said to Gandalf. 'I go to find the Sun!' Then swift as a runner over firm sand he shot away, and quickly overtaking the toiling men, with a wave of his hand he passed them, and sped into the distance, and vanished round the rocky turn.

The others waited huddled together, watching until Boromir and Aragorn dwindled into black specks in the whiteness. At length they too passed from sight. The time dragged on. The clouds lowered, and now a few flakes of snow came curling down again.

An hour, maybe, went by, though it seemed far longer, and then at last they saw Legolas coming back. At the same time Boromir and Aragorn reappeared round the bend far behind him and came labouring up the slope.

'Well,' cried Legolas as he ran up, 'I have not brought the Sun. She is walking in the blue fields of the South, and a little wreath of snow on this Redhorn hillock troubles her not at all. But I have brought back a gleam of good hope for those who are doomed to go on feet. There is the greatest winddrift of all just beyond the turn, and there our Strong Men were almost buried. They despaired, until I returned and told them that the drift was little wider than a wall. And on the other side the snow suddenly grows less, while further down it is no more than a white coverlet to cool a hobbit's toes.'

'Ah, it is as I said,' growled Gimli. 'It was no ordinary storm. It is the ill will of Caradhras. He does not love Elves and Dwarves, and that drift was laid to cut off our escape.'

'But happily your Caradhras has forgotten that you have Men with you,' said Boromir, who came up at that moment. 'And doughty Men too, if I may say it; though lesser men with spades might have served you better. Still, we have thrust a lane through the drift; and for that all here may be grateful who cannot run as light as Elves.'

'But how are we to get down there, even if you have cut through the drift?' said Pippin, voicing the thought of all the hobbits.

'Have hope!' said Boromir. 'I am weary, but I still have some strength left, and Aragorn too. We will bear the little folk. The others no doubt will make shift to tread the path behind us. Come, Master Peregrin! I will begin with you.'

He lifted up the hobbit. 'Cling to my back! I shall need my arms' he said and strode forward. Aragorn with Merry came behind. Pippin marvelled at his strength, seeing the passage that he had already forced with no other tool than his great limbs. Even now, burdened as he was, he was widening the track for those who followed, thrusting the snow aside as he went.

They came at length to the great drift. It was flung across the mountainpath like a sheer and sudden wall, and its crest, sharp as if shaped with knives, reared up more than twice the height of Boromir; but through the middle a passage had been beaten, rising and falling like a bridge. On the far side Merry and Pippin were set down, and there they waited with Legolas for the rest of the Company to arrive.

After a while Boromir returned carrying Sam. Behind in the narrow but now well-trodden track came Gandalf, leading Bill with Gimli perched among the baggage. Last came Aragorn carrying Frodo. They passed through the lane; but hardly had Frodo touched the ground when with a deep rumble there rolled down a fall of stones and slithering snow. The spray of it half blinded the Company as they crouched against the cliff, and when the air cleared again they saw that the path was blocked behind them.

'Enough, enough!' cried Gimli. 'We are departing as quickly as we may!'

And indeed with that last stroke the malice of the mountain seemed to be expended, as if Caradhras was satisfied that the invaders had been beaten off and would not dare to return. The threat of snow lifted; the clouds began to break and the light grew broader.

As Legolas had reported, they found that the snow became steadily more shallow as they went down, so that even the hobbits could trudge along. Soon they all stood once more on the flat shelf at the head of the steep slope where they had felt the first flakes of snow the night before.

#lotr #lord of the rings #poll #polls #legolas #it came from tumblr

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alotofpockets · 7 months

Text

Childhood dreams | Katie McCabe

Pairing: Katie McCabe x Arsenal!Reader

Request: Where reader has just joined arsenal and katie can’t stand her and there’s so much tension - basically just extreme enemies to lovers

Warnings: slight angst, absent father, enemies to lovers.

Masterlist | Woso masterlist | words: 2.6k

Joining Arsenal had been a dream of yours for a long time, and now that dream was finally coming through. It has always been an amazing club in your eyes, and you were eager to start the season. There were also a couple of familiar faces on the team. Miedema and Pelova, your teammates on the Dutch National team, as well as McCabe. Your dream of playing for Arsenal one day was a shared dream with Katie back when you were just ten years old. You played together in Templeogue United, Katie had been your best friend on the team, you played there together for three years before she left the small club. Sadly, the move caused the two of you to drift apart.

It was a couple years later that you and your mom moved to the Netherlands, your mothers home country. You had been there visiting family many times, but it was the first time you had lived there yourself, though you’ve had a double passport since you were a baby. You enlisted in a club there and quickly made your way up to a professional youth team, where you got drafted for Netherlands Women’s U-17, where you met Viv, and you eventually made it to the Netherlands team together.

You were excited to play with Viv and Victoria in a different setting than the national team, to reconnect with Katie, and of course learn from the other girls on the team. Today was the first training session of the season. You arrived at the training center in your new gear, and greeted the people that were there already. You were warmly welcomed by the team that was there already. You caught up with Viv and Victoria before training started, and introduced yourself to a few other girls.

Jonas walked up onto the field and started the training session off with a speech. “Hello, everyone! I’m so glad that we’re all together again, and excited to see some new faces. Let’s make this another great season together.” Everyone cheered when he finished. After Jonas finished his speech, everyone sat down to change put on their cleats, you decide to take that moment to walk up to Katie. “Hi Katie, how have you been?” To your surprise Katie stands up without any response whatsoever and starts the first warming up drill. You are a bit perplexed at her not even saying hi, but continue putting on your cleats, to join the rest of the team on the field.

The rest of the training goes well. At first you were searching for your place in the team, but you quickly fit it. The only odd thing about the day was that Katie seemed to keep ignoring you but you decided to let it be and see the next day how things would progress.

When you get back home from the first day of training you take a quick shower before calling your mom, like you promised. “Hi honey, how was your first day?” She asks cheerfully. “It was great, mom. I’ve already learned so much and it was only the first training session.” Your mom listens to what you have to say about the training, she has always been very supportive of your career. “And how was seeing Katie again? I know you were looking forward to that.” - “I don’t know, I went to say hi but she just ignored me. I guess she wasn’t as excited to be playing Arsenal together after all these years as I am.” Your mom gave you a small pep talk before saying bye.

The following days of training Katie refuses any kind of interaction with you, going as far as changing teams when you’re on the same team. You decide to give up and just focus on yourself and the team as a whole, from that moment on you act as stone cold her way as she does to you. Which was picked up by the team that usually had warm family vibes all around, instantly. Your first weekend off you visited Viv’s place and had dinner with her and Beth. “So, what’s the deal between you and Katie?” Viv asks. “I honestly have no clue. We played together back in our teen years, we were best friends for a couple years but then grew apart because her and her family moved away. We always dreamt of playing for Arsenal together, so I thought it would be fun playing together again after all these years. She has been ignoring me since the first day of training, so I have just given up on it, you know? I’m just trying to focus on playing with you guys, because joining this club means a lot to me.” You explained as they nodded along.

You report back to the training grounds on monday. Starting with some drills before playing 5v5 games. Everyone was playing to their full potential while also having fun. The occasional foul happened but all in good fun. Since both you and Alessia were the only newcomers to the team this season, the teams were made so that the two of you were always in one of the teams, that way you could build a dynamic with each of your new team members.

A new round started, and you were paired with D’Angelo, Williamson, Walti, and Foord. On the other side of the field, Russo was paired with Zinsberger, McCabe, Little, and Mead. The game was quick paced, and the score soon made it to 1-1. Katie was getting rougher in her plays, in general Katie was a somewhat aggressive player but you hadn’t seen her play this rough in any of the other 5v5 matches. She kept pushing you off the ball and sliding into you. You were annoyed with her antics but tried to focus on getting past her many aggressive tries of ridding you off the ball. Your annoyance kept building as she did not seem to stop pushing and pulling.

You moved the ball forwards once again, but your ankle was met with a hard, late tackle from Katie. Again, fouls happen even in training but overall everyone was a good sport about it, apologizing and helping the other person up. Katie on the other hand just stood up and walked away. That’s when you snapped, you rushed to your feet and gave her a shove. “What the hell is your problem?” Before Katie could answer, Little stepped in between the two of you, even performing her captain duties during training. “That’s it, I’ve had enough of you two. With me now!” You each followed her into the changing rooms. “I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but whatever it is, it is messing with the team dynamic and I am not having that. So, sit down, talk this out and I do not want to see either one of you back on the field until you can at least treat each other with respect.” She walks out of the room and closes the door behind you without waiting for a response.

You share a look with Katie, she rolls her eyes and sits down on the bench on the right side of the room. You do the same on the opposite side of the room. You sit in silence, both not wanting to start the conversation. Katie, who had never been the one for patience, was the first to speak up, “Well, aren’t you going to say anything?” You shake your head in annoyance, “You’ve ignored me since the second I stepped foot on this field, Katie. I have no clue what I did for you to hate me this much, but I sure as hell am not going to apologize after you’ve been pushing me around without any reason.”

“Never said there wasn’t a reason.” Katie spits back. “Oh, please enlighten me on this reasoning, because again, I have no clue what horrible thing I did to you in the, what, fifteen years? That we haven’t spoken to each other.” Raising your voice at Katie took all the energy that you had left out of you, so you leaned back against the cold wall, and sigh deeply.

“You turned your back on Ireland.” Your eyes shot up to Katie’s, “What?” You say in confusion. “We always talked about representing Ireland, you and me, we planned on playing for our country, and you turned your back on our country by choosing to play for the Netherlands.” A frown fell over your face, you didn’t know what you expected her reasoning behind this anger to be but this certainly was not what you were expecting. “Katie, I did not turn my back on Ireland by choosing to come out for the Netherlands. You might have known me back when I was thirteen, but you don’t know my story after that. Especially not the story behind coming out for the Netherlands, because I have worked very hard on keeping that away from the public, so please don’t judge me for things that are beyond your knowledge on my life’s story.”

Katie stayed quiet for a moment, taking in what you said. “You are right, I don’t know about your life’s story, but coming out for the higher ranking team over the one you were born in sounds a lot like turning your back on it.” You shake your head. “It was never about ranking, Katie, and it sure as hell wasn’t an easy decision.” You close your eyes and take a deep breath in. It had been many years since you’ve talked about this subject but you decided that if you wanted whatever is happening here to end, you might as well share the truth. “When I was fifteen my dad abandoned us.” Katies eyes shot up to yours, realizing she has royally messed up with her assumptions.

You avert your eyes to the ground, as you continue. “We stayed in Ireland so I could finish the school year, but after that mom moved us to the Netherlands, so she could be with her family. I guess I hadn’t given much thought to coming out for a country since we moved, you know, with trying to deal with everything. It wasn’t until the recruiters for the Dutch National teams offered me a spot on the U17 team.” Katie was listening to your every word. “I have never struggled more with my identity than that month of my life. Ultimately, I decided to accept their offer, not because they had a higher world ranking but for my mom.” You wipe away the tears you weren’t able to keep in. Katie walks up to you, and hands you a bottle of water, before sitting down next to you. “I am so sorry, y/n. I feel really bad about the way I’ve been acting towards you. I felt betrayed but I shouldn’t have assumed anything, and for that I am truly sorry. I promise to throw my grudge out of the window, because I had no right to one.”

You walk out on the field together again, Kim gets the two of you to the side. “I don’t need to know what happened in there but I need to know that whatever is going on will no longer affect the team.” You assure her that that won’t be a problem and get back to training. The rest of the training is a lot calmer, which you appreciated. Katie even walked up to you after training, “I know you won’t just forget about the way I acted, but do you think we could meet up for a coffee sometime? I know we set off on the wrong foot here, which is completely on me, and I want to fix that.” You decide that you would like to start things over and agree to coffee that same afternoon.

Meeting up at a local cafe at one, the conversations started flowing easily. You caught up on each other’s lives and laughed over shared memories. There was no stopping the conversation as you kept discovering new subjects to elaborate on. Coffee eventually turned into dinner at a different restaurant, and plans for next hangouts were made before you left to go home.

The team noticed major changes over the next couple training sessions. Instead of ignoring and avoiding each other, you were often found together on the field. Intentionally pairing up on drills, so much so that Jonas wanted to put some extra focus on your dynamic, believing it could better the team performance. So, in training you start working together to improve the dynamic, which eventually led to meeting each other on the training fields outside of training, like old times. Together, you worked on creating new strategies and practicing them until your legs gave out.

You started considering Katie as one of your best friends, that instant connection you had as kids, seemed to resurface after the initial bad reconnection. With the training season being in full session, you spend most of your time surrounding Katie. Just like the weekend before, you met up with Katie on the field, Saturday afternoon. You’ve been running around on the field for hours, practicing maneuver after maneuver, your legs were starting to get tired but you did not want to give in yet. Katie offered to play a little one on one to close off the day.

The field was still full of dummies, so you were moving around those, while also being chased by Katie. Katie got a step ahead of you and tried kicking the ball away from your feet, but instead of kicking the ball, she ended up slipping and tripping the both of you. You both fall to the ground, legs tangled, as you roll over each other. Laughing hard when you come to a halt, laying next to each other both on your backs. You stay down for a while, both not being able to stop laughing.

Katie is the first to get up, and reaches out her hand to help you up. She pulls you up with a little too much power, which makes you bump into her. You instantly reach for her hips to stabilize yourself, laughing once again. Though, the laugher dies once you realize just how close your face is to hers, as your noses are almost touching. Katie’s eyes move between your eyes and your lips, searching for any hesitation on your end as she slowly moves closer. When she notices no hesitation, she closes the distance and softly presses her lips on yours. One of her hands moving their way up to cup your cheek. With your hands still resting on her hips you pulled her closer, and deepened the kiss. Both still out of breath from running around the field all day, you have to pull away for air sooner than you wanted to. You lean your forehead against hers as you catch your breath, your smile growing when you make eye contact with Katie. She pecks your lips again before she hugs you tight. “Want to pack up and head to my place?” Katie offers after a moment. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

So, that’s what you did. Together you packed up the cones and dummies, sharing kisses all throughout, making the packing up last longer than it needed to be. Once you felt her lips on yours, you wanted that feeling to last forever. Back at Katie’s place you each take a shower before snuggling up on the couch. You borrowed one of Katie’s soccer shorts and a hoodie, while she was wearing a pair of sweatpants and an oversized shirt. The movie you were watching turned into background noise as Katie leaned in to kiss you again.

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#katie mccabe #katie mccabe x reader #awfc #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #arsenal wfc x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #irewnt #nedwnt

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shotmrmiller · 12 days

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Sexy secretary, youthful secretary, cute secretary and etc...

But what about a secretary (like yeoseop romance) that is in her middle old twenties and after looking for different jobs... finally found one who paid well. So she doesn't wanna lose it and became a fierce, precise, persona (hot head too).

And guess what..!? She is the secretary of John fucking Price

and maybe john didn't even want a secretary. he's a busy body, likes to be hands on his own work, right? so hes not mean, but he's not nice either. expects her to mess up because all of them do whenever they come across the pretty boys kyle and johnny who tend to be in and out of his office but her eyes are GLUED to her planner, her laptop and whatever paperwork he's given her for the day.

johnny almost goes out of his way to make her flustered but she takes no shit.

Yes, Mr. MacTavish.

Ach, call me Johnny, lass.

It would be inappropriate for me to do so, Mr. MacTavish.

hey hey and then john gets used to her, trusts her to run his day without him even being around. and one day, some average sized male with blonde hair and blue eyes comes in, flashing some black wallet she couldn't even get a proper look at, asking her in his southern drawl if she knows where john's at. all spider senses are tingling here, and she's long learned to trust her gut so with her professional, practiced smile she tells him that no, he's not coming since he's on vacation.

he hands her a card, telling her to let him know when he does come back.

it's important, sugar. we are under the impression that your boss isn't a very good man.

now she's irate, the only one that gets to call her pet names is johnny.

i will call as soon as he comes back. is there anything else?

he's barely stepped out the door when she rings up john, telling him that there was an american man asking for him and his voice takes a vicious tone she's never heard before.

you tell them anything?

she stiffens her spine and tells him that no sir. told him you were out of the country.

she can hear him exhale, in relief or something, she doesn't know. but what happens next is something she didn't expect. a sleek, black car pulls up the front and a towering, broad man with a skull mask opens the back door and tells her to get in.

she's hesitant, her moms voice ringing in her ears about stranger danger and all that but his deep voice cuts derails any other train of thought she had.

now. before i make you.

who, she thinks as she meekly climbs in the back, am i working for?

who is john price??

this was a cute idea and i got carried away sorry :}

#toni asks

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cinnamoneve · 8 months

Text

𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬.

❆ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: gojo satoru x gn!reader ❆ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you offer to join gojo on a 8-hour roadtrip for work. as usual, it's a big deal to him. hope you're ready for eight hours with your sweet boyfriend! ❆ 𝐰𝐜: 2k ❆ 𝐚/𝐧: gojo brainrot on the mind. i need to write about this man so bad. please enjoy ♡

no good deed goes unpunished.

the mantra repeats itself as you settle in for an eight hour car ride across the country for satoru’s work.

you offered to accompany him, after all. something about him driving solo for eight hours didn’t sit right with you–at least together, you could stop for meals and breaks, swap driving shifts, and keep each other company between the points of interest.

satoru, always the enthusiastic one, needed to make this an occasion in and of itself. since offering to join him, he’s made a point of cleaning the car, picking out your favorite snacks and goodies, curating a personal playlist, buying you a new cozy outfit to wear; it was all too much.

it’s almost like he was wired to be the best partner: if not, prove he is. small happenings became momentous occasions, outings became intricate dates, and everything was worth celebrating. no moment was too insignificant to find love and happiness in.

sometimes, you worry it’s just a big façade. that, at the end of the day, it’s just a big act in order to trick himself into finding joy in the simple things; to find catharsis in the mundane and silver lining in even the most normal situation. after knowing him for so long, it’s hard to read him. once you feel you’ve gotten a grip on him, he seems to trickle a little closer off the edge of understanding. you’re not one to prod.

no good deed goes unpunished.

satoru’s shift was first. you woke up early to hit the road so you’d be on location when he was needed–you’d hang around the town while he headed off to do whatever he had to. you didn’t mind the drive, and he didn’t mind the company. it was you, after all.

because of the early rise, the two of you barely had enough time to wipe the sleep out of your eyes. it was another night of him hogging the blankets, asking you meaningless questions right as you’re about to drift off to sleep (e.g. ‘what if all of my toes were as long as fingers? would you still love me the same?)–it was not a priority to get a full night’s sleep.

satoru’s hair was still messy. you practically had to drag him out of bed to brush his teeth and get ready for the day. unbeknownst to you, he bought himself a matching sweatsuit that is exactly the same as yours. seeing him walk out to the car was shocking, to say the least.

if you were told years ago that you’d be wearing matching sweatsuits with this man, you’d think it was a joke. tying him down to a committed relationship was a feat alone–everything else corny came natural to him.

satoru faked a shocked look when seeing you in the car, “well, one of us has to change.”

“it’s too early for this, satoru,” you laughed. the sun had barely kissed the horizon and you’ve had your first taste of his humor. you playfully punched his arm before putting on your seatbelt.

for the first 30 minutes of the drive, the two of you barely said any words to each other. it was an unspoken, yet always practiced routine for you in the morning: no matter what time you both get up. you’ll greet each other with a warm embrace and kiss, maybe cuddle for a little while in bed, but afterwards you don’t talk for a while. there’s a cooling period of waking up and preparing for the day–sometimes you just need a bit to get your bearings. between you two, it’s been in practice for a while. today was no exception.

“i guess you’d break up with me then, huh?”

satoru’s silence-breaking question makes you sit up in your seat and turn away from the window to look at him.

“what are you talking about?”

“you never answered my question last night. i think you’re just avoiding it because you’d break up with me.”

you can’t help but stare at him in shock. awe, even. you hadn’t noticed that your mouth was open, but you closed it quickly when you noticed.

satoru kept his eyes on the road. you couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not–there’s a fat chance he was staring so intently at the road to not laugh.

“are you kidding?” you can’t help but ask innocently.

“no. it hurt my feelings a lot, actually.”

now you know he’s kidding.

“you’re an ass, satoru.”

“that’s still not an answer” he refused to let it go.

“hmm. well, if you need an answer, i think i'd make you custom shoes so you wouldn’t have to walk around barefoot. and i’d sew you really big socks to make sure your feet don’t get cold either. is that a good enough answer for you?”

satoru’s face grew into a grin at your notion, “yeah, that’s more than enough”

“what about you? what if i was the one with really long toes, would you still love me?”

you waited for a bit, expecting satoru to sweep in with his charm and knock the answer out of the park with some cheesy platitude.

he answered, “i think it would be hard.”

all you could do was dramatically sigh as he laughed.

satoru was just like that. he’d ask questions about any scenario and question your love or faith or trust in him. they’d be under the guise of a fun question, an icebreaker, or a conversation point. the catch was that he’d only time he’d ask them is in the wee hours of the night, when the world slows, and it’s just the two of you in the stillness of your apartment.

when the tables were turned on him, he’d deflect. rarely did he mean it though, he was just not the best at articulating how he really felt about it all. sometimes you wondered if these pointless questions were relationship checks with a deeper meaning; as if him having extra-long toes was indicative of the next fifty years of your lives together.

maybe in his mind, it was. even if you hated the idea of him having extra-long toes, even when you didn’t know how to make custom shoes, even if you couldn’t sew, or any meaningless task he propped up was not in your wheelhouse:it became part of your wheelhouse. you’d probably lasso the moon for him, if he asked.

the question wasn’t really about extra-long toes. just like your answer wasn’t really about shoes and socks. it was about what’s between the lines of his question and your sweet answer. satoru couldn’t care less about the consequences of anything, whether it be something as trivial as having extra-long toes. what he really was interested in and loved was the way you’d love and accept him no matter the hardship. you knew this, he knew this, but he’d continue to hide it under the guise of a question with no real substance. it’s just how he operated.

in reality, he would love you if you had extra-long toes or if you had no toes or if you were a worm or any other question you could ask. it all made him a little bashful, so he could only ever deflect it. often when he does this, he’ll say one thing and mean something else. you expected it, you loved it, and gladly took it with open arms.

two hours into the drive, satoru suggested grabbing a quick bite at the next town you pull into. you pulled over at some 24 hour mom-and-pop-type diner for some fuel. with some caffeine in both of your systems, the sun was peeking through the treetops to make its first appearance of the day as you were exiting the restaurant.

“do you want me to take over driving?” you offered while walking to the car.

“i don’t mind, i’m good to go for a bit more”

“you shouldn’t drive the whole way, satoru. i’m not going to let you.”

“whatever you say, beautiful,”

satoru sat back in the driver’s seat while you just rolled your eyes and smiled. he reset the gps and put on the ‘official’ road trip playlist.

it was a tasteful blend of just about everything–your favorite songs, his favorites, and ones you had discovered together that seemed to fit. the two of you chatted between singing it all together. selfishly, he’d put some of your favorite songs in there just to hear you sing them. and all he’d do is pretend he didn’t know the words, as if he didn’t commit them to his memory as soon as he could.

you shared snacks, exchanged stories, and talked like the two of you had an entire lifetime of news to catch up on. everything flowed so easily with him. you felt like you could live in this moment forever. secretly, you hoped you would. without any hardships, any fights or arguments, any time away from each other or things unsaid. the only struggle you’d ever face is wondering the next time satoru would ask you to feed him a pretzel.

by hour six, satoru had stopped singing entirely and went back to staring at the road in silence. getting the impression he was tired, you told him you had to stop to use the bathroom next time he saw a rest stop. you’d have to ambush him when he got out of the car to steal the driver's seat–you know his stubbornness would never relinquish it.

while he got out to stretch, you snuck in his seat and started moving the mirrors to get yourself situated. satoru caught you and tried to coerce you into sitting back on your own side, but failed miserably. all he could do was pout and put his seatbelt on.

for someone who fought against not driving, he passed out instantly. he settled into the chair under your very fuzzy blanket, turned on the heated seat, and kicked his shoes off. always the drama. there’s something amusing about the sight, but it was more endearing than anything.

it gives you a bit of time to get lost in your own thoughts and concentrate on the road ahead. literally and figuratively. what a privilege and honor it was for the love of your life to sleep soundly next to you, trusting you so much that he can let his guard down and be comfortable. seeing this side of him was always a treat. part of you wondered if he’d notice if you pulled over just to admire him.

you wanted him to sleep, rest up, gain his strength back, and feel well enough to take on the day. you would drive for hours if it meant he’d sleep just a little longer.

no good deed goes unpunished.

you had thought of this phrase earlier, wondering why you even offered to go with satoru if he was just going to ask a million questions about nothing truly meaningful. but what is ‘punishment?’ being loved unconditionally? is it fair to call that a punishment? sure, he asked them a mile a minute. he asked if you wanted to play “i spy” when there was nothing significant around. he made a joke about playing truth or dare, and then dared you to kiss him, as if you haven’t done it a million times over.

satoru was many, many things. selfish at his worst and dramatic all the time, the laundry list of positives in his life could have an argument made for a negative that outweighs it. something about him felt like home, like comfort; the feeling you get when you have a warm bowl of soup, or settling in with a hot drink. his love warms you from the inside out, and manages to turn and touch every fiber of your being.

you’d never tell him this, though. it’s good to keep him humble sometimes when you fear his ego gets the better of him.

no good deed goes unpunished.

punishment looks really good at the moment. a beautiful boy sleeping soundly next to you as you listen to a song he swore to show you months ago. it doesn’t seem fair to call it a punishment when it can’t get better than this; but you find yourself looking forward to your next good deed.

#gojo x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojou satoru x reader #jjk satoru #jjk fluff #satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #★ jujutsu kaisen #♡ satoru

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