#this must be one of my magnum opus

[cosmiado]

not enough oakworthy fic. I Will Fix This

#(threat) #oakworthy #oooooh you wanna read all three of my Hermie-centric wips #oooooooh you wanna read them so bad #me when i finally start dropping chapters from my magnum opus #(slow burn friends to lovers mutual pining t4t everything-is-fine-au oakworthy-does-theater-together fic) #im on a one man crusade to get the dndads fans into Big Fish #i have absolutely no idea why im doing this but it must be done #anyway. keep an eye out for my shenanigans

[valencock]

have some fun, Nick.  my before work scribbles. This AU will never die I wont let it.

#theres not a day that goes by that im not reminded of this garbage #i dont know why i must suffer so #my magnum opus will be making a graphic novel about this dumb shit one day #mallout au #my art

[voidsentprinces]

I didn’t use to care about timing but then I did my Farewell to Shadowbringers video (twice) and was like, “Oh wait, I should probably do this more.” and thus I never stopped haunting your dash with random AMVs posted at 1am in the fucking morning.

#{ One day I will make my magnum opus and put FFXIV footage properly to All Things Must Come from Darkest Dungeon } #{ That song has everything }

[scientia-rex]

When I was in ninth grade I wanted to challenge what I saw as a very stupid dress code policy (not being allowed to wear spikes regardless of the size or sharpness of the spikes). My dad said to me, “What is your objective?”

He said it over and over. I contemplated that. I wanted to change an unfair dress code. What did I stand to gain? What did I stand to lose? If what I really wanted was to change the dress code, what would be my most effective potential approach? (He also gave me Discourses on the Fall of Rome by Titus Livius, Machiavelli’s magnum opus. Of course he’d already given me The Prince, Five Rings, and The Art of War.)

I ultimately printed out that phrase, coated it in Mod Podge, and clipped it to my bathroom mirror so I would look at it and think about it every day.

What is your objective?

Forget about how you feel. Ask yourself, what do you want to see happen? And then ask, how can you make it happen? Who needs to agree with you? Who has the power to implement this change? What are the points where you have leverage over them? If you use that leverage now, will you impair your ability to use it in the future? Getting what you want is about effectiveness. It is not about being an alpha or a sigma or whatever other bullshit the men’s right whiners are on about now. You won’t find any MRA talking points in Musashi, because they are not relevant.

I had no clear leverage on the dress code issue. My parents were not on the PTA; neither were any of my friend’s parents who liked me. The teachers did not care about this. Ultimately I just wore what I wanted, my patent leather collar from Hot Topic with large but flattened spikes, and I had guessed correctly—the teachers also did not care enough to discipline me.

I often see people on tumblr, mostly the very young, flail around in discourse. They don’t have an objective. They don’t know what they want to achieve, and they have never thought about strategizing and interpersonal effectiveness. No one can get everything they want by being an asshole. You must be able to work with other people, and that includes smiling when you hate them.

Read Machiavelli. Start with The Prince, but then move on to Discourses. Read Musashi’s Five Rings. Read The Art of War. They’re classics for a reason. They can’t cover all situations, but they can do more for how you think about strategizing than anything you’re getting in middle school and high school curricula.

Don’t vote third party unless you can tell me not only what your objective is but also why this action stands a meaningful chance of accomplishing it. Otherwise, back up and approach your strategy from a new angle. I don’t care how angry you are with Biden right now. He knows about it, and he is both trying to do something and not doing enough. I care about what will happen to millions of people if we have another Trump presidency. Look up Ross Perot, and learn from our past. Find your objective. If it is to stop the genocide in Palestine now, call your elected representatives now. They don’t care about emails; they care about phone calls, because they live in the past. I know this because I shadowed a lobbyist, because knowing how power works is critical to using it.

How do you think I have gotten two clinics to start including gender care in their planning?

Start small. Chip away. Keep working. Find your leverage; figure out how and when to effectively use it. Choose your battles, so that you can concentrate on the battle at hand instead of wasting your resources in many directions. Learn from the accumulated wisdom of people who spent their lives learning by doing, by making mistakes, by watching the mistakes of their enemies.

Don’t be a dickhead. Be smarter than I was at 14. Ask yourself: what is your objective?

[godidontevenknowwhat]

Missed Lessons

Tonowari x Metkayina!Reader (Romancing Pandora 2024 Day 6 - Heat Cycle)

A/N: Later than I had hoped but it is finally complete, my magnum opus, my first Tonowari fic

Sequel now posted: here

Tagging: @eywaite @neteyamsyawntu @pandoraslxna

Synopsis: Tonowari placed an incredible amount of trust in you when he asked you to assist him in teaching the Sully family the ways of the Metkayina. He placed the reputation of the clan on your shoulders. When he finds out from his son that you didn't show up to Jake's Tsurak training with no explanation and no sign of you at your Marui the concern of your friend mixes with the disappointment of your Olo'eyktan. That is, until he manages to catch a whiff of your scent leading from your Marui.

Fic Includes: NSFW so MDNI, bullshit about the Metkayina culture that I made up heavily using Māori culture because there's not a whole lot of information on the Metkayina but I know the Māori culture was a big inspo for them, reader being in heat, random lore about heat cycles that I will not be expanding on, no reference to Ronal but Ao'nung and Tsyeria exist so it's up to you, friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, oral (fem receiving), p in v, creampie, breeding kink, I'm feral for him I stg, 3.8k words

You and Tonowari had been close throughout your lives, spending your childhood days running across the warm sand of your home Awa’atlu. You had passed your rites together, became adults in the eyes of your clan together, danced around the fire after drinking too much kava made from the fermented, sweet fruit that could only be harvested from the swampy inland of your home. So when the time eventually came for Tonowari’s father to step down as the Olo'eyktan, you were the one to crush the rare shells that you’d painstakingly collected together and fashion them into a beautiful, glisting paint that sparkled when the light of the fire hit it and the one to paint the delicate swirls and waves of ceremonial importance onto him all the while berating his skxawng ass for not sitting still. 

Tonowari trusted you with his life and everything in it. So, when the winged creatures of the mountains far to the west arrived with a family of na’vi hailing from the Omatikaya, your eyes were the first he met and it was your nod of approval that solidified the Suli family’s place at Awa’atlu.

It had been a quarter of a cycle since that day and the clan had become well adjusted to the family of forest people, leaving Tonowari to gradually withdraw from training Tsyeyk Suli and give more attention to his duties as Olo’eyktan once again. A discussion between the three of you ended with Tonowari granting you the responsibility of training the once great Toruk Makto in his efforts to learn the ways of the txampay taronyu (Ocean Hunter) and more importantly how to master the riding of the viscous Tsurak, a milestone all Metkayina must meet while passing their rites.

Teaching Tsyeyk became a daily task of yours, one that you excelled in if his progress was anything to go by. In fact, if you pushed him enough, Tsyeyk might go as far as to say he’d made more progress with you than with Tonowari himself and you took an incredible amount of pride in that.

Your clan observed a special community kinship, sharing duties equally based on talents and specialities. Whakairo (Carving), Raranga (Weaving), Tā moko (Permanent Marking/Tattooing) and Txampay Tìtaron (Ocean Hunting) being the most respected. Every adult in the clan contributed what they could and shared responsibilities amongst themselves.

In the many cycles Tonowari had known you, you were not a person to skimp on your responsibilities. A skxawng? Maybe. But Eywa herself couldn’t drag you to the lows of disappointing your clan. You knew for a fact that being so close with Tonowari meant that your actions and reputation reflected on him, so when the warm tones of the evening sun began colouring the sea and Tonowari was assisting the late returning tarpongu (hunting party) with distributing their catch he was surprised to hear his son calling his name.

“No one has seen her today”. Despite the irritation bubbling inside him by the fact that you had left Tsyeyk with no help for the day, concern for you itched under his skin and forced him in the direction of your Marui to check for you himself. 

His concern for you only increased when he noticed your privacy coverings were still pulled shut and when he entered your home only to see it a complete mess it was all he could do in his power not to yell for you like a wild man. Your belongings were rifled through, strewn across the floor. Your portion of the community meal laid untouched near your sleeping mat, it had been long enough that the uneaten food was congealed and filled his nose with an unpleasant smell. 

Taking a deep breath to try and scent you through the overwhelming smell of rotting food he was able to catch a faint trail of your distinct scent leading from your home, a strange, staggering sweetness clung to the inside of his nose as it mixed with your usual smell. It clouded his senses, made an unfamiliar prickling sensation appear along the back of his neck and spread down his spine all the way to the base of his tail that swayed with unease.

As Tonowari followed the trail of your scent through the humid, dense mangrove forest of your village he thought back to the last evening meal, were you even there? Did he actually see you engaging with the clan at any point? If you were there, how could he not have noticed that something was clearly wrong? Wrong enough for you to disappear for almost a full day. 

Bile churned in his gut at the thought of something awful happening to you because of his nonobservance, blaming himself immediately for whatever state he would find you in. 

Sweat beaded on his forehead and the back of his neck despite the cooling air of the evening, the loose curls that cascaded his back in a delicate waterfall were beginning to stick to his slick skin. 

Taking another deep breath of your scent, Tonowari was able to follow the trail to the edge of the water where it suddenly dispersed, indicating to him that you’d gone into the water. It wasn’t until the first spits of rainfall began to hit his skin, the cool shock breaking through the cloudiness that seemed to have settled over his mind the moment he smelled that strange sweetness to your scent, that he realised just where he was and where you would most likely be.

In your teen years, before he was Olo’eyktan, before either of you had even begun to think about your Iknimaya, you’d gone exploring. Past the swampy inland together, through the mangrove forest and to the edge of the water at the other side of the island. You’d quickly spotted a rocky outcrop in the distance and before he could convince you it was time to turn back you’d already dived into the water. He remembers rolling his eyes, calling you childish, hiding his real feelings about how pretty you were with water clinging to your lashes and slicking your hair back before jumping into the water with you. You spent the night together camping in the hidden beach of the outcrop, laying by the fire and talking about your futures. It was the night you promised to paint him for his ceremonial induction as Olo’eyktan when the day came, picking an iridescent shell out of the sand and vowing to make the paint yourself with the shells from your special outcrop.

Hanging his heavier, more ornate items of clothing over a branch after he removed them, Tonowari feels a literal and metaphorical weight lift from his shoulders. How long had it been since he’d been here last with you? Surely before he became Olo’eyktan, before his life became an endless cycle of being the most important person in the clan, weighed down by his duties, responsibilities and the representative clothing that he still didn’t feel he carried like his father once did.

Left in his tewng with his knife still sheathed at his hip and his songcord blending into the heavy leather fringe, Tonowari runs his thumb over the small shell you gifted him so many cycles prior before diving into the water and making the swim to your outcrop.

Tonowari took care to enter your space slowly, if you were injured or ill then you’d most likely react to his presence negatively. Entering the cave of your outcrop, he feels the water of the sea begin to dry against his skin as the lit fire inside warms him. 

Taking a deep breath of your scent, Tonowari finds it almost unbearably strong in this area, the strange sweetness clinging to you is stronger here too. It’s thick in the air and it makes an unfamiliar ache radiate through his kuru, trickle down his spine and spread throughout his body. 

His jaw ticks in thought, he’s never reacted like this to your scent. Never reacted like this to A scent at all. 

A deep, rumbling hiss rips through the air. Vibrating through your vocal cords in a warning grumble that makes Tonowari’s hand instinctively reach for his blade, his fingers barely brushing the hilt before he’s knocked off his feet. His head throbs with the collision on the sand but the sensation can barely push to the front of his mind through the pulsing of his heartbeat in his ears and the feeling of your burning hot skin scorching his own. 

Your pretty eyes don’t hold their usual warmth as you glare down at Tonowari and the cool, sharpened tip of your knife threatens his Adams apple, for a moment he’s convinced that you aren’t even aware of who he is from the way you’re snarling at him until you speak.

“You should not be here! Skxawng!” 

The harsh tone of your voice echoes through the mist that your scent placed over his mind and his earlier irritation boils up again tenfold. 

“You would hold a knife to your Olo’eyktan?”

“To my Olo’eyktan? Of course not. To the Skxawng that followed me out here though?”

Tonowari snarls at you, a noise you’ve never heard in the cycles you’d spent together. It’s so out of character that even Tonowari himself looks shocked at the authoritative noise before his expression hardens once more and he pushes you off of him, sending you back on your ass in the sand with your knife dropping with a thud beside you.

Your ears drop back uncontrollably, a whimper slipping out before you can stop it at the way Tonowari stands over you. You’d seen him shout, yell and berate people before that deserved it and it had never caused a reaction like it was causing from you right now. If you were in your right mind, not overtaken by the swirling intensity of your heat, then you would have had more fight in you.

Tonowari immediately notices your subdued nature and takes a chance to properly look at you. Your hair is unkempt, loose from it’s usual neat updo, your skin is flushed with such a deep colour that he worries for a second you may be suffering from sun sickness before he notices the rapid rise and fall of your chest.

Your breath is quick as Tonowari looks at you, every second around him is harder for you to get through and the heat in your gut is burning hotter than the fire lit beside you. 

“Y-You need to leave Tonowari. You cannot be here.”

Tonowari’s eyes drop to your clenching thighs and it finally clicks for him what is happening to you, maybe he really is a skxawng. His irritation, the heat burning him from the inside out since he caught your scent, the odd sweetness clinging to your scent even from such a distance creating a fog in his mind. It was all because of your heat. 

“Your heat? How is your heat here? It is not mating season and you..”

An irritated hiss rips out of you uncontrollably and you glare at Tonowari with whatever fierceness you can muster when all your heat riddled brain can tell you to do is submit to this dominant presence. 

“What? I am unmated? You think I do not know that? Why else would I have come out here by myself?”

Getting to your feet quickly you busy yourself with brushing the sand from your body that clings to your sweat slick skin. 

“You could have come to me for help. Or the Tsahik”

“Do not be ridiculous. What good would that have done?”

A growl of frustration leaves Tonowari’s lips and it takes all your remaining strength to stay on your feet and not immediately fall to his but the tell tale signs of your submission show themselves anyway. Your ears drop once more, your head bowing forward and your eyes refusing to meet his. Your fists clench with defiance but you can’t hide how Tonowari is only making the effect of your heat worse.

Your slick is flowing uncontrollably and it has been since you picked up Tonowari’s scent coming towards you. The truth was that your avoidance of group meals and your duties was purely due to Tonowari and his lingering scent being present in every part of your village. Even your own Mauri. 

“You need to be filled”

Your eyes roll back in your head at the thought, almost going braindead over the image that plagues your mind of Tonowari sitting you on his fat cock and plugging you full of his cum.

“Do not be so crass, I will survive without it. I would be doing just fine if you hadn’t shown up”

The waver in your voice makes Tonowari take a step towards you, he sees your ears twitching and listening for his movements but you make no move to stop him so he takes another and another until he is directly behind you. 

For a second there is silence and he basks in it, it reminds him of your simple shared childhood, when you could be with each other from sunrise to sunset without anyone bothering either of you. He thinks to himself that if he’d never been born into this family of his, if he’d grown to be a simple fisherman or weaver instead of the Olo’eyktan then maybe.. maybe the courage to approach you like this would have came without a push from nature and maybe, just maybe, you would have been his long before he’d had children with another.

Tonowari clears his throat and it startles you for a moment before you feel his large, rough hands settle themselves on your waist. The sensation of his skin against yours so purposefully forces a gasp from your lips that you can barely convince yourself was meaningless.

“Perhaps.. I really am a skxawng like you say-”

“You know I don’t mean anything-”

“Mean anything by it or not, it’s all you call me by anymore.”

Shame burns in your throat and your eyes sting with the prick of tears as Tonowari continues  voicing his thoughts to you.

“Maybe I am a skxawng.. but I have never, ever questioned the will or the way of Eywa.. and I know in my heart you have not either.. so to end up here, your scent enticing me and finding you in heat despite being unmated I..”

A fond smile spreads across your face as you listen to Tonowari speak, cycles and cycles of being Olo’eyktan had taught him how to speak to crowds and how to speak to the clan but yet in this moment he was reduced to the mild mannered boy you used to know.

“Perhaps it is Eywa’s will..”

Tonowari sucks in a breath at your words, waiting for you to accept or deny his thinly veiled confession. 

“And who are we to question Eywa?”

You gasp as Tonowari spins you to face him, a giddy smile spreading across your face to match the one on his own. Tonowari smashes his lips to yours in a kiss so passionate it makes up for all the years of dancing around each other, the way his tongue licks into your mouth makes an embarrassingly loud whine escape you and you worry for a moment that he may feel the rapid beat of your heart against his chest that’s pressed against your own. 

Your body is burning hot against Tonowari’s and he’s almost certain the shape of you will be scorched onto his skin like a brand when you finally pull away from him. He can feel your breath getting shorter and more laboured the longer he kisses you but the real sign that your heat is well and truly taking over you is the almost buckle of your knees when he purposefully presses his knee between your thighs and against your soaked cunt.

Taking the brunt of your weight, Tonowari hooks your legs around his waist and lays you back in the sand. The stretch in your hips forced around the thickness of his waist will surely burn once you’re in your right mind once again but for now the only thing you can focus on is the pressure of your closest friend's rock hard cock pressed against your pussy.

You’re so distracted by finally feeling Tonowari’s fat cock pressed against you that you don’t recognise him reaching for your discarded knife until the cold blade is touching your skin, immediately becoming foggy from the pure heat coming off of you. In a swift series of movements your clouded brain can’t keep up with, Tonowari slices through the material of your tewng and the delicate beading of your chest covering. The cool air finally hitting your body only gives momentary relief from the heat eating you from the inside out. 

Tonowari feels the pressure of your thighs squeezing around him and he drops his hips into your own, the roughness of his tewng against your bare cunt bringing a startled squeal of pleasure from you and your clit pulses overwhelmingly at the minimal contact.

Large, rough hands grip the backs of your thighs and force them higher, almost bending you in half as Tonowari settles between your plush thighs. Your slick coats every inch of your pitifully swollen and neglected pussy, your swollen, pulsing clit begging for attention from between your lips. 

Your voice comes out in a whiney rasp and you barely sound like yourself in the way you beg.

“Please! Please! Please!”

Tonowari takes a moment to admire you fully, every part of you begging for him and him only, before he gives a firm lick through your folds. His wide, rough tongue licking from your slick dripping entrance to your twitching clit forcing a breathy sob to rip from your throat and your back to arch almost painfully as you grip onto his hair.

Purring against your soaked cunt, Tonowari licks up every drop of your slick he can to savour the taste of you on his tongue. The obscene sounds of his tongue lashing against your wetness combined with your high whines fills the air.

You feel Tonowari suck your sensitive clit into his mouth and your hips automatically rock towards his face. His right hand reaches for your plump tits, tugging on your pebbled nipple in rhythm with his suction on your clit as the fingers on his left hand trace your entrance, teasing your clenching hole by pressing the tips in ever so slightly.

Tonowari growls into your heat as he feels your rough tug on his hair but he relents and lets you feel like you have some power from gripping and pulling him until his lips meet your own once again.

Moaning at the taste of your slick on his tongue, a possessive part of your brain is elated at the thought of him tasting like you, smelling like you, being a part of you. Parting from the kiss you can barely catch your breath, little whimpers huffing against his lips as he stares amusedly down at you. 

“It hurts, ‘Wari” 

A large hand brushes the sweat tangled strands of your hair out of your face, cooing at the tears wetting your lashline while his other hand works on positioning his cock at your entrance.

Tonowari rubs the head of his cock between your lips and over your clit, picking up a combination of your slick and his pre-cum that makes pressing into you an easy feat. 

Crying out at the stretch, the conscious part of your brain in the deepest part of your mind is relieved that you didn’t get a good look at Tonowari’s fat cock before he started pressing into you. He was easily the largest man you had ever been with and you felt like he was ripping you in half the further he pushed inside but your heat and your dripping cunt just wanted more. 

Tonowari feels your heels digging into the meat of his ass, encouraging him deeper despite the gentle wince on your face. 

“You can take it, ma’yawne”

Your mouth parts in awe, a choked whimper rumbling from your chest as he finally reaches the hilt. You can feel his heavy balls pressing against you as the tip of his thick cock kisses your cervix. 

Tonowari’s eyes lock onto your own as he begins thrusting, each drag of his cock against your gummy walls threatening to send your eyes rolling so far back in your head they would never return to their normal position. You swear you can feel him hitting your stomach, knocking the breath out of you as each thrust gains momentum and knocks against your g-spot with unimaginable precision. 

Reaching for your clit, he rolls it between his fingers as he kisses at your neck and shoulder, selfishly biting at the flesh to mark you as his as if the scent of his cum stuffed inside you wouldn’t ward off any idiot who came around sniffing at you.

The brutality of his pounding thrusts only increases with each punched out whine he receives from you as a reward. He can feel your cunt tightening around him every time his head bullies its way against your g-spot and with renewed vigor he viscously rubs his fingers over the sensitive nub of your pretty little clit.

Your vision goes white for a moment, your ears ringing and when you finally return to your body you hear a high pitched wailing that you’re shocked to realise is coming from you. Tonowari continues his pounding thrusts, each one punching out another gush of cum from you and a fucked out noise from your throat.

Digging your nails into his shoulders you peer up at him, eyelashes clumped together with tears that you can’t hold back any longer.

“Need you to cum inside, want you to fill me up ‘Wari”

Large hands grip onto your hips, tight enough ,you’re sure, to leave ugly discoloured bruises that you’ll wear around the village with pride. Tonowari's thrusts are animalistic as he chases his release, mutterings of a wild man talking about the image of you round with his next child. Tits plumper than usual full of milk for the baby.

Hands leaving your hips, they slam into the sand next to your head. A punched out snarl leaves him as he finally allows himself to cum inside of you so deeply he’s sure not a drop will spill out. 

Tonowari’s nose brushes against your own, a gesture almost too intimate in comparison to the way he just ravaged you. You bask in the silence, breathing each other’s air and feeling each other’s heart beats as the sweat cools on your skin and the mist clouding your mind finally settles. 

You can’t stop the laughter that bubbles out of you and you watch a fond smile stretch across Tonowari's face, the smile lines at the edges of his beautiful eyes crinkling and reminding you of how long it has taken you both to finally get here.

“Nga yawne lu oer..”

You stroke his hair as you smile up at him, the love of your life, your best friend.

“Skxawng..”

#tonowari x reader #tonowari smut #avatar smut #avatar x reader #romancingpandora2024

[eoieopda]

darksided (myg)

Min Yoongi adored you. He'd simply never hurt you - unless you asked.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Fem!Reader | Darksided AU Type: One-Shot - SMUT (You must be 18+ to ride this ride.) Sequel to foresight, but can be read as a stand-alone fic. Word Count: 4.4K Content: established relationship au; soft bf yoongi turned mean!dom!yoongi at the request of sub!reader; p in v penetration; unprotected sex/creampie (be safe, y'all); oral sex (m receiving); brief face-fucking; v fingering; squirting; a lil degradation and spit kink, as a treat; harsh language; after-care; also cavity-inducing fluff A/N: This was nine (9) pages in Word - my longest smut ever, all because this man-bun era has got me FUCKED up. Barely proofread (sorry ily). Check out my other fics here. Listen to the playlist here. 12/11/22 A/N: The sequel, blindsided, is finally here! check it out when you're done here :)

“When I signal you, that’s when you press the button, okay?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you stared down at his recording equipment – a galaxy in its own right, lit up like a Christmas tree. He may as well have asked you to defuse a bomb, except you couldn’t even identify the bomb. “There are approximately three thousand buttons in front of me right now,” you whined. 

He was exhausted and you knew it – you could feel it – but his patience with you was, as always, limitless. His fondness for you still shone through his eyes, overpowering the dark circles looming below, as if he hadn’t made a mistake in inviting you into his office. Then there was his laugh, surprising enough to smack you but so soft that it cradled you. “It’s the only one that says ‘record,’ jagiya.” 

A quick survey of the landscape before you indicated that this was a criminal oversimplification. There was a minimum of four options fitting his description, and all of them looked both breakable and expensive. You blinked down at the sound board, then back up at him, dumbfounded. “I think you made a mistake letting me in here.” 

Again, with the laugh – knocking you prone, nudging you closer to an early grave. Somehow, out of all of time and space, you got to exist in the same lifetime that he did. How lucky you were to have him, and his wind chime laugh all to yourself.  

You were lovesick and it was chronic. 

“Look down at your left hand – no, baby, don’t move it – that knob above your middle finger?” He was standing on tiptoe inside the booth, gesturing as if he was landing a plane. Your eyes darted up to follow the path of his fingers, then back down to the board. “Go diagonally up from that knob for two rows. Do you -” 

Overcome with a sense of unearned pride, you pressed down on the button, beaming. You certainly had not been signaled, but nonetheless, your efforts were rewarded. Importantly, that reward was now recorded for prosperity. Your favorite mixtape, the soundtrack of your racing heart, a lullaby: “I really couldn’t love you more if I tried.” 

His wide smile, like his tone, was sweet enough to cause a cavity. You were folded up like a pretzel in his chair, but somehow, your knees still seemed to wobble.  

You were lovesick and it was terminal. 

“Should I shut it off now until you’re ready to start?” You asked with cheeks glowing pink. 

He shook his head, still grinning. “I can cut it down. I do need you to cue the track, though – when I signal you.” He stated the last bit of his sentence slowly, shooting you a pointed look and then a wink. 

You were once lovesick and now you are dead. 

Finger hovering over the ‘play’ button, you watched him wide-eyed, anxious to avoid another mishap. His faith in you may have been unshakeable, but yours wasn’t – and this third mixtape was his magnum opus. You’d rather explode into a cloud of dust than mess up the tireless work he’d put into it so far.  

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, centering himself. Without looking, he raised his hand and pointed silently to you. Within seconds, your mind was blown. 

Min Yoongi contained multitudes. Despite your years together, it never ceased to amaze you how your beloved introvert – who said more with actions than anyone could communicate with words – could transform the way he did. Moments ago, his voice was a blanket, fresh out of the dryer, but now? Now, his presence electrified you. There was an unapologetic confidence – callousness, even - that you only saw when he rapped. 

Even his body language changed, like he’d evolved right before your eyes. You couldn’t look away because there was nothing else worth looking at – just him, top to bottom. The way he held his head, lips nearly touching the microphone, highlighted the deadly curve of his jaw. Carved from marble, luminescent and sharp. The strain of his neck, vibration visible in the column of his throat as he growled out his bars. Then down, down, down to his hands. His rings caught the light from above him, refracting slivers of white as his fingers moved with the beat.  

Oh, how you wanted them wrapped around your throat. 

Seeing him like this had you spellbound – feral, if you were being honest. As you watched, bottom lip clamped hard between your teeth, a heatwave crashed over you; it burned you from the inside out. Sometimes, you dreamt about this version of him. Your Yoongi adored you. He showered you with affection, respect, and praise. He’d never dream of hurting you. 

But would he, if you asked? 

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear him finish the take. 

“Aegiya?” There was a hint of concern in his voice that told you he’d called out to you more than once already. 

You swallowed hard and shifted in his chair. “Yes?” 

He slid his wireless headphones down until they rested around his neck. The bright red band leaned against his cheekbone as he tilted his head to the side in confusion. “Are you alright? You looked like you were in a trance.” 

He wasn’t wrong. You were hypnotized, and it was entirely his fault. 

When you merely hummed in response – too distracted by his features to form a coherent sentence – he opened the door to the booth and stepped out. He pulled the headphones off completely and set them down on the counter before walking straight to you. 

You were vibrating. Could he feel it? 

The trembling only intensified when he reached you. Looking down at you, he ran the pad of his thumb over your cheek. 

“Tell me.” He said, as if that brief touch informed him of the maelstrom spinning circles in your brain. “Something’s got you dizzy.” 

Psychic. 

Suddenly, you were shy. This man knew and loved every single aspect of you, and still you felt embarrassed. If you begged him to fuck you – not just make love to you – would he laugh at you? Even worse, would he be offended? You didn’t want him to think that what you had wasn’t already perfect because it was.  

His eyes scanned your face, narrowing just slightly as he tried to read your mind. The two of you were silent for what felt like hours before you saw it – his pupils dilating, offset by the spark of silent understanding. The corner of his mouth twitched when he cracked the secret code. The hand caressing your cheek lowered slowly until it came to rest on your throat, thumb harshly directing your jaw – and your gaze - upwards. 

“Is it me, baby?” He teased with a voice like velvet, cocking his head to the side with a smirk that left you stupid. “Have I got you dizzy?” 

Involuntarily, you whimpered. So stunned by his stare that you were speechless. Melting into a puddle. Dripping. 

He exhaled sharply through his nose – a cruel, quiet laugh - and his eyes darkened further. “I can’t give you what you want if you can’t tell me what that is.” 

Once again, you shifted in your seat. You were suddenly so painfully aware of every nerve in your body, each one tingling like a live wire. Even your thighs clenched, trying desperately to apply pressure where you needed it most. You craved him so badly that it ached. 

“I don’t want you to be gentle with me,” was your answer, though it sounded more like a question. “I - I know that you -” 

His hand shifted quickly from underneath your jaw. He now had your cheeks pinned between his thumb and middle finger, squeezing hard to cut off your sentence before you could finish it. There was a microscopic pause as his eyes searched yours for permission. You blinked and nodded to the fullest extent you could within his grasp. 

“Stupid girl. You know nothing.” 

Muffled by his hand, your weak moan was barely audible, but he could feel the way your breathing quickened. The rise and fall of your eager chest. The way your nipples, yet untouched, made themselves known through the fabric of the t-shirt you’d stolen from him. Draped in him but smelling like you.  

Blackcurrant, orange blossoms, vanilla. 

He leaned down, mouth now hovering beside your ear. The heat of his breath on your neck was maddening, but it was the way his lips brushed against your ear that proved fatal. When he spoke, it echoed in every one of your bones. A whisper heavy enough to bruise. “Get up.” 

You followed the lead of his hand over your mouth and rose to your feet. Sharply, he redirected your gaze to the seat you’d just left. It was inexplicable how something so faint could be so blatant. That nearly imperceptible spot, snitching on you; showing him how your body begged for him. 

“Such a messy girl, ruining my chair like that.” He tutted. “I should punish you, shouldn’t I? Should I ruin you, baby?” 

Held so still, your knees still trembled. Without his hand gripping your cheeks, you would’ve crumpled at his feet. Before you could do so yourself, he forced you downward. After all, your knees couldn’t buckle if they were digging into the hardwood. 

He released his grasp and used that same hand to push his hair away from his eyes. Your heart raced as if you were sprinting, and yet you were frozen in place. You didn’t know where to begin because you wanted everything.  

Your indecision prompted him to roll his eyes. “Do I have to do everything for you? Say it. What do you want?” 

“T-to touch you. Please,” you begged, “I want to feel you in my throat.” 

He beckoned you silently with a curl of his finger. You sat up further on your knees and reached out tentatively for the drawstring tied at the waistband of his joggers. 

“Stop.” He ordered, and you did. Looking down at your wide eyes, his smirk deepened. Your hands fidgeted uselessly in your lap as he began untying the drawstring himself – his slow pace was torturous. You'd have ripped them off his body if given the chance. “Open your mouth” 

Again, you did as you were told. 

It took everything you had not to drool when he lowered the waistband of his joggers just enough for his cock to spring out. Already throbbing, beige tip glistening with pre-cum in the half-light. He took himself in his hand and began to pump himself as he took a step towards your waiting mouth.

"Stick out your tongue."

Now, you couldn’t help it – and when he saw the string of saliva spilling from the tip of your tongue, he growled. 

“Fuck,” He breathed, sliding the fingers of his free hand into your hair and tugging. “Look at how badly you want to be used - you're begging without saying a word.” 

You couldn’t speak, but your eyes were screaming at him. Please. 

Teasingly, he tapped the tip of his cock against your tongue, hissing as he felt the wet heat of your mouth. But when you went to close your lips around him, he pulled your hair – and you – away. 

“Spit on it – slowly. Keep your eyes on me.” 

You felt a twinge between your thighs as he delivered his orders. You’d undoubtedly soaked through your little sleep shorts already, but his tone just then made a mess of you. You squirmed as you kneeled, feeling the rivulets of slick begin to trail down the innermost part of your thighs. And he hadn’t even touched you yet. 

Looking up at him from under the curtain of your lashes, you saw the wicked fascination flicker in his eyes. The way his breath hitched as he watched your spit fall from the ledge of your lips until it connected with his shaft. In your peripheral vision, you could see his cock twitch at the contact. 

“Now open.” Finally. 

A low moan broke from the depths of his chest as he slid into your mouth, and you couldn’t recall a more beautiful sound. As you pushed yourself further onto him, you hallowed your cheeks, following the vein running along the underside of his length with your tongue. 

You stared up at him through wet eyes. So full, you pleaded with yourself not to gag, to breathe steadily through your nose. Tip pushing past your soft palate, he grunted as he bottomed out. Without softening his gaze, he watched for your reaction – always so concerned, even when he was pretending not to be. To his surprise, you swallowed, allowing the tightness of your throat to squeeze him.

“You’re fucking filthy.” He muttered with his eyes screwing shut. His jaw fell open when you slid off him, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock once you reached it. His eyes followed suit, blown out pupils fixated on the spit dribbling down your chin; darkening at the obscene sound of him sliding through the suction you'd so masterfully generated. 

Pulling your hand from your lap, you reached out slowly for his balls. As your fingers massaged him, his grip on your hair got tighter. Almost imperceptibly, he began to roll his hips against your mouth. 

His panting was interlaced with curses as he fucked himself into your warmth. “Fit so fucking perfectly in your throat,” He grunted, “Like you were made to be my toy.” 

It startled you when he suddenly removed himself from you. Thoughtlessly, you whined – and then, immediately, you froze. Eyes darting back up to him, the anticipation of consequences prevented you from closing your mouth fully. You waited there on your knees, trembling, while your mascara pooled uselessly in the wells beneath your eyes. 

“Somebody feels entitled,” He scoffed as he glowered down at you. “You better be careful what you wish for.” 

Before you could process the speed of his movements, his arms hooked under yours and pulled you from the ground. Your legs ached, but as he loomed over you, you followed his unspoken order, backing yourself into a corner. With your shoulder blades pressed flush against the wall, he stepped forward and used his knee to push your legs apart. 

For a moment, it seemed like his façade was cast aside. He raised his hand slowly to caress your cheek, swirling soft circles into your flushed skin with his thumb. Out of habit, your eyes drifted shut and you leaned further into his touch. And when he leaned in, just as slowly, your slightly parted lips waited for a kiss that never came. 

“You’re just begging to be filled, aren’t you?” He asked in a whisper so sharp it stung. “Not loved but fucked.” 

You nodded shyly. “Y-yes,” You stuttered, “Please.” 

His lips still lingered closely enough to touch yours, to send shockwaves shooting down your spine, but he continued to withhold his affection. This was the first time – ever – that Yoongi had turned down an opportunity to kiss you. Until now, he didn't seem capable of doing so. 

“Please what?” 

“Fuck me. Please -” You keened as his hand began to drift from your cheek, down your neck. In the blink of an eye, every word you knew disappeared from your vocabulary. The tip of his index finger trailed down over the fabric of your stolen shirt, between the valley of your breasts, and came to rest at the hem.  

He pinched the seam between his fingers and tugged. “Part of me wants to tear this off you,” He mused with his head tilting to one side. His eyes remained locked on yours; the amusement in them was clear, even in the darkness. “But most of me wants to see you fucked out and stupid - in my shirt.” 

Your legs threatened to give out yet again. He was devastatingly handsome under normal circumstances, but this newly unearthed cockiness was ruinous. You bit down hard on your lip as he raised your shirt enough to access the waistband of your shorts. With his help, you shimmied them down until they dropped quietly at your feet. Quickly and clumsily, you stepped out of them and kicked them aside. 

Yoongi’s hand rose again to your face. His middle and ring finger were extended; the others curled down towards his palm. You didn’t need to be asked to open your mouth – it was the only response your eager mind could conjure. His fingers were cool against your tongue as you closed your mouth around them. And when he was satisfied with the lubrication you’d provided, he slid his fingers out from your hollowed cheeks with a lewd pop. 

“How badly do you want to come all over my fingers?”  

It’s a wonder there wasn’t a puddle beneath you, considering how those words made you gush. “I need it,” You pleaded with fluttering eyelids and bated breath, “Please touch me.” 

You whimpered and closed your eyes as you felt his fingers dive into the pool between your thighs. Every nerve lit up like a switchboard as he slipped through your soft folds. He scoffed at how wet you were – so soaked that it was audible in each millimeter of his movement. 

Simultaneous to his middle finger penetrating you, your head rolled back until it rested against the wall. Your mouth fell open, but you were too entranced to do much more than breathe as you acclimated to his presence inside you. He started slowly, curling his finger upwards as he pushed further inwards. Even at this pace, the otherwise dead air was filled with the sound of your sodden cunt. 

“You’re dripping already?" He let the tip of his finger rest against the spongy spot behind your pubic bone; the pressure was incredible, but he stayed torturously still. “And yet you’re so - tight.” Achingly slow, the pad of his finger spiraled against your g-spot. “I’ll have to stretch you out before I can bury my cock in you.” 

As his ring finger plunged inside of you, you cried out, head slumping forward against his shoulder. Sensing that you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself up for much longer, Yoongi grabbed the back of your right thigh with his left hand and pulled your leg up to rest against his hip. With this new angle, his fingers ventured even deeper until they bottomed out at the knuckle. He didn’t give you much time to adjust to the new sensation.  

As he fucked his fingers into you at a feverish pace, he continued his mind-numbing assault on your g-spot. Over and over, he toyed with you; thrusting, stretching, scissoring, and teasing as your arousal trickled into the palm of his hand. There was an intoxicating – unbearable – warmth burning in the pit of your abdomen. A sensation so all-consuming that your eyes rolled back in your head. 

Your walls clenched around him, sucking him in and begging for more as your helpless heart raced. “Oh my god,” You wailed, “Holy shit – Please, I’m - Yoongi!” 

Your orgasm hit you like a freight train. Never in your life had you fallen apart like that – shaking and speaking in tongues. Having sensed the swell of pressure, Yoongi knew exactly where this road headed; and he could tell that you were fighting it. “Don't hold back from me,” He growled.

And then the dam broke.  

A wicked grin danced across his face as the wave of pleasure crashed onto the floor below you. “Fuck. Look at this.” He pointed downward and your bleary gaze followed. Remnants of your orgasm had splashed onto his joggers as well as the hardwood. “Nobody could ever make you come like I can. Say it.” 

The words bubbled out of your chest, half-way between a sob and a moan. “Nobody can make me come like you.”

You were a shivering, spilling mess; and your ears were still ringing from how intensely your every muscle had clenched. Before your knee could buckle, you were abruptly swept up into his arms. With one arm wrapped tightly around your back, his free hand slid over the surface of his desk, sending various papers and cords rocketing towards the floor.

Once the space was cleared, he set you down and laid you out onto the cool surface. You were exhausted and thankful to be horizontal; though you knew he wasn’t yet finished with you. 

After all, he intended on ruining you. 

Through half-lidded eyes, you gazed up at him. The hair he’d so neatly tied into a bun at the top of his head had mutinied; inky tendrils were now splayed out haphazardly in different directions. You were fuck-drunk, but you swore the overhead light behind him encircled his head like a halo. It was all so unholy - the way he stood before the altar of your exposed core, with his face angelic and his throbbing cock in hand.

The hand not pumping his cock slid over your bent knee. It took tremendous effort, but you lifted your arm to place your hand on top of his. One tiny squeeze – a brief, loving check-in – received an echo. Then, just as quickly as it appeared, the fleeting moment of tenderness was gone. With each of your legs now trapped in his hold, he pulled you towards the very edge of the table. 

Once he was satisfied with your closeness, his focus switched to his access. He simply wasn’t content to leave your legs bent up at either side of him; so, he rested the backs of your legs against his shoulders and leaned forward until you’d nearly folded in half. 

He didn’t need to use his hand to center himself prior to entering you. His body understood the proportions of yours automatically; like you were puzzle pieces created to fit perfectly together. Though his intention may have been to penetrate you slowly, centimeter by centimeter, your slick was overwhelming. The usual ache you felt upon acclimating to his size was drastically reduced; and he bottomed out quickly, cursing. 

The fullness you felt was euphoric, and it left you mewling hopelessly under the weight of his body. He was buried deep, throbbing as your walls constricted around his width. It shocked your system when he slid out almost completely only to drive himself back into you. 

“Like a fucking vice grip,” Yoongi hissed as he picked up his already brutal pace. Every curve, every vein dragged maddeningly along your walls as he fucked you. “Do you hear how wet you are? Shit – your pussy is begging for me.” 

The only thing louder than the squelch of your cunt was skin hitting skin; close behind was the way your name spilled from his lips in a flurry of expletives. You, on the other hand, were nearly incoherent. With every thrust, he knocked another thought loose until eventually, you had nothing left.  Relentlessly, his cock grinded against your g-spot, leaving you too mesmerized to recall your own name. 

There was a sheen of sweat above his knitted brows; and his bottom lip was now trapped between his gritted teeth. He was close and you knew it. The depth of his thrusts didn’t falter, but his steady pace was getting harder for him to maintain. You felt the rubber band inside you beginning to fray - on the brink of snapping and shooting you into orbit like a sling-shot. 

“Baby,” The soft, shaky voice caught his attention. He opened his eyes and focused hard on you – your flushed cheeks, and trembling lips. As he surveyed you, his resolve began to evaporate; his expression softened immediately. There he was: your Yoongi. “You’re gonna make me come again.” 

As your walls clenched tight around him, the edges of your vision began to blur. You watched his face as he came shortly after you, studying how delicately his eyelashes fluttered as the warmth of his release filled you. In that moment, it was the two of you, toppling in slow-motion off the edge of the universe. Irrevocably in love - heaving chests, shuddered moans, names whispered in the place of prayers. 

He shifted his arms to allow your quivering legs to fall from his shoulders. When the hands on either side of your head could no longer hold up his weight, he collapsed onto you. With his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, you could feel his breathing begin to slow as his cock softened inside you. 

You were nearly delirious when you felt his lips buzz against your skin. You were too far gone to understand what he was too exhausted to communicate. “Hmm?” You hummed, wordlessly asking him to repeat himself.

He groaned with the effort of pulling himself away from your embrace. He only traveled far enough to glance over at you. “I said, I think several of my past lives just flashed before my eyes,” He stated matter-of-factly. Within seconds, his eyes crinkled up at the corners and his grin grew. That soft chuckle wasn’t far behind. 

“I don’t know where I am.” You admitted with a sheepish laugh. After a moment, you amended that thought, “I don’t know who I am.” 

Yoongi placed a gentle kiss below your ear – the only part of you he could reach without sitting up fully. “I have no idea. How did you get in my house?” As you rolled your eyes, he bumped the tip of his nose against your jaw, too tired to tease you much more than that. “But now that we’re both completely spent, I’d like to go back to being soft with you – for now.” 

He tried to wink at you, but both of his lead-lined lids closed in unison.  You hummed thoughtfully as you ran lazy fingers through his hair, like the decision required serious deliberation. You paused, then giggled.  “Permission granted, my love. You may proceed.”

He was quiet for several moments before he stood bolt upright. Startled, you propped yourself up on your elbow and looked to him. He turned towards the booth and then back to you.

His eyes were wide as a blush swept over his cheeks. "Aegiya, did you forget to stop the recording?"

Sequel (posted 12/11/22).

#bts #bts army #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bangta boys #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts fluff #bts suga #bts suga smut #bts suga fluff #suga x reader #suga x y/n #min yoongi #yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x you #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #bts yoongi #bts min yoongi #min suga #re: darksided #2k #re: blindsided #jade writes

[skitariiposting]

Skit's Mini Painting Journey Pt. 3

The Admech one.

C'mon, you all saw this one coming.

Back when I was painting my nurgles purple, I wanted to do a similar color scheme for my Admech army. I slowly moved away from it however, as I didn't quite like the way it turned out. The green and purple look took to Nurgle well, but purple Admech on desert planets didn't make a whole lot of sense. Didn't stop me from trying though, and while they certainly didn't look bad, I'm glad I didn't stick with it.

The Mars Pattern Family

This little fella may look familiar! Here was my first attempt at a more traditional mars pattern skit, and a jawa-esque one to boot! This was a kitbash of a proper galvanic rifle and backpack being added to The Makers Cult's Lil' Recruit.

I mean, Jawa admech is so amazing, but I had to have my little guy properly equipped!

Continuing the Mars linage is a technopriest and engiseer, both TMC printed minis. I love the way these two look. The face-shield on the technopriest looks amazing, and I'm incredibly proud of the reflection on it. The OSL on the hand isn't very visible in the picture, but it also looks really good.

This Thallax bot was supposed to be a Kastellan Bot for @elnubnub, however I got the two mixed up and picked the smaller one. I'm going to eventually remedy that, but he still looks good nonetheless.

This is by and large one of my best pieces in my opinion. Back when @cannibalcaprine had a bird face, this model was more applicable. Dominus Hera has so much soul and time put into her I don't know if I'll ever be able to replicate the state of mind I was in that let me get this mini to look this good. The cloth effects are fantastic, the OSL from the gun is fantastic, the molten axe is fantastic, the color choices and layout is fantastic, the cables are fantastic; I don't know who painted this mini, but it certainly wasn't me. It couldn't have been.

And the most important member of the Mars Pattern Family, the fan favorite: Goober. A kitbash gone wrong gone right. A broken mini finally becoming whole. The legend himself. What more is there to say?

Finally: The Submechanicum

Penelope, the Ocean Queen. My first model I painted for the Submechanicus. I'd love to say that this is my magnum opus, considering I made a whole video about her and everything...

However, I must rip the band aid off and say that this is the first version of Penelope...

Because what immediately followed her was this beast. This is the Krabaphron, another contender for one of my best models. This sucker was so genre defining, that it set a new standard for the rest of my Submechanicus army and would cause me to re-do my color-scheme and paint job planning going forward.

I based all of my future Submechanicus models off of it, using it as a template. The Skits and Techpriest both got the same treatment and I've got to say, I'm in love with the way it looks. I've continued using this style so far and I haven't had to make many modifications.

As such, Penelope... didn't quite fit the bill anymore. She stood out from the rest of the models.

So... after a livestream of planning and base layering...

She was finally given the paint job she deserved.

And that's just were our story begins fair traveler... With the rise of the Depth Guard, a proper protector of the Submechanicus will be needed to combat the forces of Nurgle... And coming late April, there will be such a machine surfacing, with a video to present it.

Of course, this is quite an older photo. It's far more painted than that. I've teased photos of it so far, however I'm saving the proper display of it for the video, so be on the look out if you want to see the completed product!

And that's about it! Hope you've enjoyed this little walk down memory lane and gallery of my mini painting endeavors! I'll be making a website for easier viewing once I've gone through and gotten some more professional looking pictures done. Thank you for reading and viewing!

-Jerry

#adeptus mechanicus #admech #skitarii #40k #warhammer #warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #miniature painting #mini painting #skitposting #photo dump

[forlorn-crows]

Lady of the Lake

aka kicking off kinktober with a bang aka, my magnum opus

aka the origins of lake wife, rain's tentacle monster lover from this ficlet, requested (back in march oops) by the legend @st-danger

Rating: Explicit. T for Tentacles.

Pairing(s): Rain/Lake Monster, Rain/Mountain

Tags: era iv, porn with plot, teratophilia, tentacles, masturbation, self-fuck, squirting, mind chatter, vaginal sex, anal sex, gill play, tentacle bondage, magick, cunt/clit/dick/tentacle dick for Rain's anatomy, transmasc character, original character, poetry.

Words: 11,649

Chapters/Parts: 5/5

Summary:

With all the dark magick flowing through the abbey, he wouldn’t be surprised if some of it leached into the surrounding area. Mountain’s told him all about the various creatures he’s seen on the edges of the forest: dark, shadowy things that live in the corners of one’s vision, flitting between downed trees and swaying ferns. They’re relatively peaceful entities that don’t seem to bother ghouls, humans, or other animals much. But their presence certainly hasn’t gone unnoticed.

That same looming magick resides at the bottom of the lake. Something deep and ominous. Something big. Rain can’t make head nor tail of the sentient something that must live down there. He’s felt it most recently in the new beginnings of spring: big waves of living energy reaching out to him, calling to something buried deep in his ribcage. A creature reaching out to their kin. He supposes it could be a byproduct of the changing seasons, the rush of life seeping through the cracks in the thawing ice. But the feeling in his gut tells him it’s something more than that. 

Here on AO3

beta'd by @miasmaghoul, thanks for supporting me through this. special thanks as well to @askingforthesun brainstorming with me, @crimsonclergy for squealing with me about inspo pics for lake wife's appearance, and @divine-misfortune for talking monsterfucking with me ♡ also check out @kroas-adtam's amazing kinktober list, of which tentacles/monster fucking is day 1!

#the band ghost #the band ghost fanfic #ghost fanfic #fanfic #lady of the lake #rain ghoul #transmasc rain #mountain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #mountain/rain #rain/mountain #teratophillia #tentacles #kinktober #yall dont know how happy i am to finally have this done lmao

[dem-obscure-imagines]

You're So Timeless | Vol. 1

Steve Rogers x Reader

Fandom: MCU

Summary: In 1943, Steve Rogers was visited by his soulmate. He fell hard. Problem is, she was from the future and didn’t stick around for long. Now, in the twenty-first century, he finally found her again, except this version of her hasn’t met him yet and won’t know he’s her soulmate for another year. 

Note: So this is a combination of my other two Steve Rogers soulmate AU fics, but lengthened and fleshed out into a full fic. I was literally possessed to write this. I have no other explanation. I really like how it came out. I gave this one chapter headings (I am also going to post it to Ao3) and yes some are Taylor Swift titles. Sorry about that. It takes place roughly around the time Civil War would, but we have managed to avoid the war this time around. I also moved some other characters up the timeline because I think they’re neat and I said so. Without further ado, please enjoy my new Magnum Opus.

Also Tumblr made me split it into two parts. Part 2 linked HERE and also at the end of the post.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence/injuries, soulmate au, tons of mutual pining, kind of a slowburn but in reverse. Light angst, but a happy ending.

Word Count: 38.7k total (I am not sorry)

Reader Is: Enhanced (forcefields), 24 years old, female 

The End

Time.

It was a fickle thing. In the blink of an eye, a year had passed. A mere twelve months earlier, you had been living a different life. The only life you had been responsible for was your own. And your plants, but…they never seemed to last that long under your care. Now, everything was different.

It was the day before your birthday. Your twenty-fifth birthday, which, in the world you lived in, meant that tomorrow, a name would appear on your wrist, the name of your soulmate. It had been stressing you out all day, the weight of tomorrow and everything it meant.

It was late, and you were exhausted from a day of overthinking. The longer you stayed up, the longer you delayed the inevitable reveal, and thinking about it too much made you nervous, so you just decided to get to sleep sooner than later.

It was once you were just about to climb into bed that there was a knock at your door.

“It’s open!” You called. The door opened slowly, revealing Steve, who was leaning in your doorway, arms crossed, that pensive look in his blue eyes. “Oh, hey.”

“Hi.” He chuckled. He seemed nervous, although you weren’t sure why.

“Everything alright, Steve?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I actually came in here to check on you. Wanda said you were…quiet.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” You hugged your arms around your frame and bit your lip, looking up at the super soldier standing in front of you. “Just…I don’t know. I’ve been looking forward to tomorrow for my entire life, but…now that it’s here, I’m so scared.”

“Hey, come here.” He said, pulling you to him, strong arms wrapped around you, as if he could protect you from the future itself.

“I don’t know what to do…”

“(Y/N), whoever they are, they are incredibly, incredibly lucky. You don’t need to worry about anything. It’ll all work out. It always does.” He said it like he was certain. Like somehow he knew what would happen in the morning when suddenly your life was turned on its head and you had to venture out to find your other half.

Since you’d met him, Steve wore a leather band around his wrist, covering his soulmate’s name. You’d figured he must have met them in the forties and…maybe they hadn’t made it long enough to see him come out of the ice. But you didn’t ask about it. You never dared to put that question into words. He’d been through enough heartbreak already.

“What if they don’t like me…?”

He scoffed, holding you tighter. “That’s impossible. They’re going to love you. So much. I promise.”

“And…and we’ll still be f-friends?”

Steve pulled away, looking down at you, a hand very carefully touching your cheek. “Of course we will still be friends. Nothing is ever going to change that. I promise.”

You nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek. “Good. Thank you, Steve. For everything.”

He gently wiped the tear away, the pad of his thumb warm. Once he was sure you were okay, he let go, looking at you with that knowing sparkle in his eye once more. He took a little extra time to look at the shirt you were wearing, the Star Wars tee you’d had since high school. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” You agreed.

“And happy birthday, (Y/N).”

We’ll Meet Again

“Ma’am? Are you alright? Ma’am?” The voice sounded far away. You were pretty sure you were still dreaming. You opened your eyes slowly and immediately became aware of the pounding pain in your head.

“Ow, oh my God.” You reached up and felt there, but it didn’t feel like you were bleeding or anything.

“Ma’am?”

You froze for a second, slowly looking up at the figure standing above you, confusion written all over his familiar features. It took you a long moment to put the pieces together. You were on a porch somewhere in what appeared to be New York, but it was…different. A lot different than the parts of the city you knew. Alright, it had to be a dream.

You looked up at the man standing above you and did a double-take. But no, it was him. It was a tiny, frail version of Steve. Your eyebrows furrowed and you sat up slowly, staring at him for a long moment before whispering, “Steve?”

His mouth opened and then shut again and he made a face of confusion, like he was trying to place where he knew you from, but he didn’t know you yet, and wouldn’t know you for several more years, to say the least. “Do I know you?”

“It’s complicated.” You exhaled. “Can we go inside? You’re going to need to sit down for this.”

Dumbfounded, Steve nodded and you stood up from the porch, only to find that he was at your eye level when you did. Weird. He led you into the small apartment and you looked around. It was quaint. There was an easel in the corner of the room and…Bucky Barnes sitting on the couch? You stared at him for a good, long moment, a shiver running down your spine.

“Who’s the dame?” He read your shirt. “What is Star…Wars…?”

“About to find that out myself.” He chuckled, leading you into the living room. “Buck, could you give us a minute?”

“I’ll be in the kitchen.” Bucky got up and walked to the other half of their tiny two-bedroom.

You sat down on the couch and so did he. The silence was thick. You thought for several moments. You weren’t quite sure how you had ended up in the 1940s. You looked down at your hands and it was then that your gaze finally landed on the writing on your wrist. And then everything made sense.

“What’s the date today?”

“It’s July 4th, why?”

“July 4th…” You whispered. “What, 1943?”

You could see the wheels turning behind his eyes before he replied, “Yes ma’am.”

“Well, happy birthday, first of all. And second of all…” You held up your wrist so he could read it. Steve’s eyes went wide and he stared at the three words written neatly on your skin in his own handwriting.

Steven Grant Rogers.

“You’re my…” He looked at you for a long time, his eyes wide. He hastily undid the cuff around his wrist and held it out to you, your own name written there. He ran a finger across the letters, as if to prove they were really there.

“I’m your soulmate.” You said certainly.

It hit you like a truck, then. The weird look on your Steve’s face, the way he was so certain that everything would work out. It was because he had already lived through this. And that meant that in all the time he’d known you, he’d been hiding his mark not because his soulmate had died, but instead because you were his soulmate and you didn’t know it yet.

Your entire year of friendship, of memories, of roadtrips and missions and movie marathons…he had known the whole time. And that look in his eyes wasn’t just his protective side coming out. It was love. It had been love the whole time.

Oh.

Steve exhaled a long, shaking breath, really taking you in. Once again, he had a million stars in his eyes. He let out a whispered, “Wow,” as tears began to form.

You came back down to earth. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled, sniffling as a tear ran down his cheek. “I’ve just, I’ve got a lot of…health problems, so I wasn’t sure if I’d ever…meet you. And you’re here and you’re great and I just…I’m sorry.”

That brought tears to your eyes. “Oh, Steve…” You pulled him into your arms and he didn’t hesitate to surrender to your embrace, his arms wrapping tight around you and holding you close, head nestled into the crook of your neck. “Just breathe. It’s okay. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

Always.

He took your advice, doing his best to avoid an asthma attack on what was shaping up to be the best day of his life. Once he finally caught his breath, he pulled away to look at your face again. “I have to ask…How did you know?”

“I don’t know if you can tell from these clothes,” you motioned down to the t-shirt and sweatpants you were wearing, “but I’m not from around here, exactly.”

“I kind of thought so, but I didn’t want to be rude.” He smiled softly. “Um, where are you from, then?”

“I’m from the future. Like…a while from now. It’s hard to explain why or how, and I’m not really sure how I got here, to be honest, but I’m glad I am.” You sighed, thumb grazing his cheek, wiping away his tears. He crooned at your touch. “I don’t know how long we have before I have to go back.”

“Am I there? Where you’re from?”

“You are. It’s complicated. We’re really good friends and…when I get back, I’m sure we’ll probably be even more than that.” You smiled, shaking your head. “I can’t believe I didn’t put the pieces together sooner.”

“(Y/N)?” Steve asked, trying out your name for the first time.

“Yeah?”

“Let me take you out today, show you a good time here before you have to go back.” He took your hand and carefully laced his fingers through your own, testing the weight of it, the feel of it.

You smiled. “I’d like that.”

“Not to eavesdrop, lovebirds — congratulations, by the way — but if you’re going to take her out, we’re going to need to find her some clothes that aren’t so…‘not from around here.’” Bucky leaned in the doorway.

“Yeah, I thought the same thing.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll call one of my girls and we’ll get her squared away. Sit tight.”

“Thanks, Bucky.” You said, chuckling when his eyes widened after you addressed him by name. “I know you, too. From the, uh, future.”

“Weird…” Bucky decided.

“Long story?” Steve asked, studying the look on your face.

“Very.” You agreed. After staring at him for another long moment, you pulled him back into your arms again, exhaling a long breath before whispering, “Steve, I’m so glad it’s you…”

***

“Wow.” You stared at yourself in the mirror, studying the way Bucky’s, ahem, lady friend, had curled your hair, done your makeup. You did a little twirl and relished in the way the skirt of your dress twirled. It was navy blue, short ruffled sleeves with a flared skirt and buttons down the front. “I think it suits me.”

“I agree. Blue is a good color on you.” Steve was sitting in a chair at the edge of the room, absolutely enamored as he watched you. “Although, I’m sure they’re all good colors on you, doll.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks. “Thanks.”

“I mean it.” He stood up and walked to you, slipping one of his hands into each of yours and staring into your eyes, looking at the way you looked standing next to him in his reflection. His soulmate. The kind of girl people write poems about. “You look great.”

“I don’t look out of place?”

“No one is gonna think you’re a time traveler. Well, unless you tell them.” Bucky said. “Maybe don’t do that anymore.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t planning on it.” You chuckled and gave Steve’s hands a squeeze. “Where to first, soulmate?”

His cheeks reddened as soon as you said the word. “Well, I was thinking we could go to my favorite little diner down the street to grab something for lunch, and then maybe we could take a walk through the park, catch a movie, and then go out for drinks tonight?”

“What, you aren’t gonna take her dancing?” Bucky teased, ruffling Steve’s hair under a large hand. “Show the girl a good time?”

“I would if I didn’t have two left feet.” Steve chuckled, a sheepish smile on his face. He looked at you, waiting for some kind of response. “How does that sound?”

“It sounds like a great time, Steve.”

He smiled. “Good.”

The two of you left the apartment not long after that, and walked side by side towards the diner. Your hands were swinging in the space between you and your hand brushed Steve’s once, twice, a third time, and then you slipped your hand into his, intertwining your fingers.

You caught him smile out of the corner of your eye. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah, of course it’s okay.” He grinned and chuckled to himself. “You can hold my hand as much as you want, doll.”

When the two of you finally got to the diner, a little bell rang over your heads and you got seated at a booth by the window. The two of you ordered drinks and you skimmed the menu while you waited.

“So, tell me about yourself.” You said, resting your chin against your fist and looking over at Steve. You studied the way his blue, blue eyes flicked up to your own and the blush that covered his cheeks shortly thereafter.

“You probably know a lot of it already.” He chuckled. “Unless we don’t talk a lot?”

“We talk quite a bit, but I still want to know about this you. Here and now.”

“I like art. Drawing and painting and stuff.” He said. “I haven’t had time to do much lately, but I’d like to get back into it.”

“See, that I didn’t know.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I didn’t know you were into art.”

“I could, uh, show you sometime.” He offered.

“I’d like that.” You smiled. “What else?”

“I like to read. I like going to Dodgers games with Bucky. One time he took me to Coney Island. I don’t like rollercoasters, but I liked playing the games. He wasted three whole dollars trying to win a teddy bear for a redhead named Dot.”

“Three whole dollars…” You chuckled. “Well you don’t have to worry about the rollercoasters too much, I can’t go upside down without throwing up.”

“That makes two of us. Enough about me, tell me about you.” Steve nudged, his hand slowly moving towards yours. “How do we know each other? When did we meet?”

“We’re…coworkers, I guess you could say. We met about a year back and now we live in the same building? I’m sorry for being so vague, I just—”

“Don’t want to give it away, yeah, I get it.” He nodded, understandingly.

“You took me under your wing as soon as I moved in and really made me feel welcome. You’re the one that brought me onto the team, actually.” You took a sip of your drink. “We’ve been through a lot together already, and I’m sure it’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

“Mmm…” Steve nodded. “I know I just met you, but I’m really glad you and I are close. Well, will be close.” He paused before chuckling and shaking his head. “There’s still some little voice in the back of my head telling me all of this is just some amazing dream.”

“That doesn’t even begin to cover it.” You chuckled, tucking a piece of curled hair back behind your ear. “I’ve…I’ve had a crush on you forever, Steve. I can’t believe this is happening.”

He stared at you, almost dumbfounded. “O-on me?”

“Yeah.” You agreed. You’d forgotten, you supposed, that Steve had had this phase, the self-depreciation, the insecurity. Your Steve, when complimented, was shy, sure, but you knew he understood what people were talking about. This Steve didn’t see it that way. Not yet. But it would be your job to use your one day with him to change that, to make your soulmate see that he was worthy of love, even self-love. “Yeah, of course on you, Steve. I can’t believe I get to have you.”

His cheeks reddened and he finally took the leap, taking your hand across the table, thumb grazing your knuckles with care. His blue eyes sparkled. “Funny. I was gonna say the same thing about you.”

***

Once the two of you were finished up at the diner, you took a walk through the park. It was gorgeous out, a bright, sunny, warm summer afternoon. Several couples were strolling down the paths, hand in hand, and you were one of them, your hand held tight in Steve’s, his thumb gently stroking the back of yours.

You went to the theater and caught a movie together. Luckily enough, they were showing the Wizard of Oz. Your current situation had you feeling like Dorothy in more ways than one. The movie had only come out four years earlier, which was definitely strange. Not to mention the fact that the tickets were only twenty-five cents, the popcorn a mere ten cents.

And then, once the movie was over and the sun was setting, you went to a bar, where Steve ordered each of you a drink. You took a sip of yours, something sweet, and smiled at him across the table.

“So, how’s your day been, birthday boy?” You asked coyly.

“The best I’ve had so far,” he replied, his eyes sparkling. The sparkle faded, however, when his expression grew somber. He hesitated, but then asked, “Okay, I have to know…How long do I have to wait to see you again?”

You exhaled a long sigh, biting your lip. If you told him the truth, he might ask questions you couldn’t tell him the answers to. And besides, the real answer would require some math. You didn’t know the specifics.

“I’ll be honest, Steve, it’s…it’s a pretty long time.” You thought for a long moment before continuing, “I…I can’t really tell you why. It’s all really complicated, and if I tell you too much, it might not happen the way it’s supposed to.”

“Oh…” Steve nodded and took a sip of his drink. Once he set down the glass, he reached across the table and took your hand. “Well, however long it is,” he looked straight into your eyes and a chill ran down your spine, “It’ll be worth it. Every second. I promise.”

You could have cried. “I hope so.”

“There you two are! I was wondering which bar you’d wandered into!” Bucky was, apparently, already slightly intoxicated as he approached you and Steve with a date of his own. “How was your day on the town, lovebirds?”

“Spectacular.” You replied. “I wish there was more time to soak it in.”

“New York sure is something, huh?” Bucky’s date asked, giggling innocently. If only she knew the half of it.

“Yeah, you could say that.” You laughed and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

“You guys wanna sit with us?” Steve asked.

“If you don’t mind too much, punk.” Bucky grinned.

Steve got up and switched sides of the booth so he was sitting next to you instead of across from you. You slid your hand into his, intertwining your fingers. He smiled, chuckling softly to himself as he gave your hand a squeeze.

“Did you give the lady her dance, Rogers?” Bucky asked, smirking.

“Not yet.” Steve chuckled. “We’ll see. The asthma makes it a bit difficult sometimes.”

“Never seems to stop you from getting into fights.” Bucky muttered, causing Steve’s cheeks to flush.

“Just wait until the band plays something slow,” Bucky’s date pointed out.

“There you go!” Bucky raised his glass to his lips. “Great idea, Maggie.”

“Glad to be of service.”

And so, the four of you chatted until the band started to play something sweet and slow. Steve looked at you for approval and you nodded. He led you out onto the floor with the other couples.

Steve blushed, flustered, and he looked at you before saying, “I don’t know how to do this.”

“It’s easy.” You promised, guiding one of his hands to your waist and holding the other. “That’s it. And then we just move to the music. You can twirl me around if you feel so inclined.”

“Alright.” He chuckled, swaying in time with you. “Hey, uh, (Y/N), I need you to know…I had a really, really great time today. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a soulmate and I’m so excited to spend the rest of my life with you someday, however far away that someday is.”

“I’m glad I met your expectations.” You smiled, tugging him a bit closer.

“No, you exceeded them. You’re better than anything I could have imagined. I’m so lucky.” He paused, and his expression fell a little. “I know I’m a lot. I have a lot of problems and they might complicate things sometimes, but…”

“Steve, you’re perfect.” You shook your head and leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. “The universe gave you to me for a reason and I’m so, so glad it did. You’re amazing. I can’t think of anyone better to spend the rest of my life with.”

He was quiet for a moment before whispering, “Can I please kiss you, doll?”

You leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, the music swelling around you as you guided his hands to your waist, cupping his cheeks to hold him close to you. When the moment had passed, you rested your nose against his, meeting his eyes and inhaling his scent, committing this version of him to memory before he was reduced to just that, a memory.

“Steve Rogers, I am so sorry you will not hear me say these words until after I go back tomorrow, but I love you. I have loved you for a very long time. And I know I will love you for the rest of my life.”

You spent the rest of the night together. Twirling across the dancefloor, talking, soaking each other in. But when you reached the front porch of the townhouse, Steve looked back down the steps to find you’d disappeared, leaving him with nothing but the memory of your lips, your laugh, your smile.

“You gonna be alright?” Bucky asked, a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t know.” He replied, words swallowed up by the sounds of the night. “Just give me a minute, pal.”

Bucky nodded, solemn. “Take all the time you need.”

The Beginning

Steve remembered the day you’d met—for the second time, though he didn’t realize it right away—like it was tattooed on his brain. It was a few years after he’d come out of the ice and he had taken Tony’s advice to get out more, which had led him to the local mall.

It had been an uneventful day. He strolled around the perimeter, taking in the storefronts, studying the fashion, browsing the menu of a pretzel place, reading the posters on the exterior of the movie theater, the things that were coming out in the coming months. Nothing interested him in particular. He didn’t really care for war movies.

After a few quiet hours, his peaceful walk was interrupted by screams, people running away at top speed, which, of course, caused him to spring into action, assessing the situation. He ran towards the source of the chaos, scanning, scanning, until his eyes landed on the attacker, a guy with a flamethrower, aimed at a teenage theater employee. Steve hurdled over a trash can, moving people out of the way, directing them to safety and trying to put himself between himself and the mallgoers, but before he could, you did, hands out in front of you and what seemed to be an invisible shield poised there, redirecting the flames and protecting the movie theater employee that had nearly been caught in the crossfire.

A quick flick of your wrist knocked the attacker’s gun out of his hands and it slid across the floor to Steve’s feet. He chucked it into the fountain without a second thought, where it fizzled pathetically. The guy lunged at you with heavy metal gauntlets, and you dodged the first swing but caught the second in the face, falling backwards. When you landed, however ungracefully, you sent a blast of energy at the guy, knocking him over a plant and sprawling onto the tile floor.

While the guy was on the ground, Steve tackled him, wrenching the gauntlets off of his hands and chucking them away, too. Soon, the police arrived, apprehending the guy while mall security comforted the distressed mall patrons, ushering them to safety and medical attention.

You sat on a bench after, breathing heavy, a cut on your forehead. Steve walked over, interested in this superpowered rescuer, someone who wasn’t yet on the Avengers’ radar, but would most definitely be on the news the next day if the sheer amount of phone footage recorded was any indication.

“Are you alright, ma’am?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just glad everyone is okay.” You told him, meeting his eyes.

He finally got a good look at you and froze, looking bewildered. A deer in headlights. “You’re…”

There you are, doll. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.

It was you. Of course it was you. Since the moment he’d been unfrozen, he’d been looking for you. His soulmate. The girl from the future that popped in on his twenty-fifth birthday, turned his whole life on its head, and then left without warning, hours after their first kiss. Back when he was five-foot-nothing with asthma and more medical conditions than he could even remember.

Back before he was anything.

And you’d loved him anyway. You’d given him the day of a lifetime and hope for not only a future, but for love. That someone could love him for him despite it all.

“I know.” You knew? “I…I don’t know what it is or…why I can do it. I’ve been like this since college.”

Your powers, you meant. You thought he was talking about your powers and not your name, which was burning a hole into his wrist beneath the thick leather band keeping it hidden.

“Right. Well, it’s…” He sighed, gathering his words, hiding the elation and pain behind a warm smile. “It’s a good thing you were here. I don’t have my shield on me.”

“Mine is built in.” You chuckled.

“You, uh…have a cut. On your forehead.”

“Oh, do I?” You reached up and found it with your fingers and they came away a bit bloody. “Shit.”

“Come on.” He offered you his hand and you took it, letting him lead you over to the counter of the theater. “Hi, do you have a first aid kit we could borrow?”

“Yeah, of course.” The girl at the counter said, rushing to grab it.

Steve patched you up with gentle hands, off in a corner on your own, in the room the theater used for birthday parties. Staring up at him, you finally realized the obvious. This was Captain America. And he was using a careful finger to spread a triple antibiotic ointment on your cut.

Play it cool, (Y/N).

“Do you do this often? The hero thing?” Steve asked, trying to sound somewhat indifferent. He couldn’t be, though. Not entirely. Not when it came to you.

“No.” You shrugged. “Haven’t had much opportunity, thankfully. I mean…I’d like to, I just didn’t know how to…get into it, I guess. Any email I sent to Stark or S.H.I.E.L.D. or whatever would end up on a slush pile.”

“Well, I’ve got some connections. If you’re seriously considering it. I can’t say I recommend it, but…Obviously you’ve got that protective instinct and you seem to work well under pressure.”

“I don’t know about that. My heart is about to leap out of my chest.” You admitted, laughing as he carefully laid a Bandaid over the cut, closing the kit.

“That makes two of us.”

“Well, if you think I’m really cut out for it…I’d love to help.”

***

It was three days later that Nick Fury got in touch with you. You thought it was a scam call at first, but no one else would possibly have the info about you that he did. That was S.H.I.E.L.D. for you, you supposed.

You packed up your apartment, your boxes of books, your old journals, your clothes and makeup, your life, and hopped in the jet that was waiting for you at the meeting place. Inside was a pilot with flaming red hair, Natasha Romanoff. The Black Widow. It was hard not to get a little starstruck.

She helped you load your things into the jet, let you settle into the copilot seat, and then you took off, soaring away from your old life and towards your new one, the mysterious, magnificent facility tucked into upstate New York, that iconic A emblazoned on the front of the building.

“Steve said you’re telekinetic. That’s cool.” She complimented with a smirk.

“Yeah, I’ve got force-field stuff. I don’t know what else, exactly.”

“Oh, we’ll figure all that out. Banner already has a list of tests he wants to run. Nothing too intense. I made him promise not to give you the lab rat treatment too soon.”

“Reassuring.” You chuckled.

“Wanda’s been decorating your room all day. It’s not often we get new blood.”

“I appreciate it. I can’t wait to meet everyone.”

“They can’t wait to meet you.”

The jet landed a little under an hour later and Natasha helped you haul boxes towards the front door, where Steve was waiting. It was like time slowed, that look in his eyes, glistening little stars.

“Come on, Rogers, these boxes aren’t going to move themselves.” Nat waved him over, snapping both of you out of your trance.

“Right, right.” He jogged over. “Is there anything heavy?”

“That one.” You pointed. “It’s got my candles in it.”

“On it.”

You grabbed a few tote bags, slinging your computer bag over your shoulder. A few others came out to help, Clint and Wanda namely, the latter of whom used her shimmering red powers to speed the process along. Were you any more confident in your own powers, you would do the same, but you hadn’t had much opportunity to use them yet, and you didn’t want to drop anything fragile on your first day.

You started unpacking the essentials, your smart speaker, your laptop, some books and your favorite candle. You put some clothes in the dresser, hung some up in the large sliding closet in the wall. Upon further examination, you had your own bathroom, too, which was nice. There was a wall tapestry with sunflowers on it, and several little knickknacks. Wanda’s loving touch.

Someone cleared their throat and you turned to find Steve there, arms crossed, leaning in the doorway.

“Hi there, um, just checking in. Figured you might want a tour when you got settled in. No rush, of course.”

“I would love a tour. I can already tell I’m gonna get lost in this place.”

He grinned. “Not on my watch. Come on. I’ll show you around.”

Steve walked with you through the office spaces, the computer labs, Bruce’s lab, Tony’s. Tony was in the city, but Bruce was home and introduced himself with a dad joke about the Hulk and a warm handshake. You saw the training facility, a giant room with floor to ceiling windows, a wall of mirrors, practice dummies, landing mats, and plenty of sparring weapons. There was, separately, a fully furnished gym, and then the basics, a large, modern kitchen, living areas and lounges, study spaces, a library, a party room with a bar, and a very fancy coffee machine.

You could see yourself making a home here.

Steve walked you back to the hallway where all the bedrooms were. “If you need anything or have any questions, my room is just down the hall on the left. Wanda is next door. Dinner is at six.”

“Six o’clock it is. Thank you, Cap.”

“You can call me Steve.”

“Steve.” You nodded, slowly accepting the fact that you were now on a first name basis with Captain America. “And you can call me (Y/N).”

“Nice to meet you, (Y/N).” He said, some twinge of nostalgia at the end of his words. You turned back into your room to get some more unpacking done and Steve walked back down the hall, taking a deep breath and looking up at the ceiling, doing his best to hold in his tears.

…Ready For It?

You spent the first few days in your room for the most part, unpacking but also hiding, if you were honest. You met Vision. He seemed nice. He also had the ability to phase through walls, apparently. Still no sign of Thor, but you weren’t holding your breath. You were sure he was a busy guy.

Sam Wilson introduced himself with the same offer everyone else had so far, to let them know if you needed anything. You appreciated it.

And then, finally, there was Tony, whose dry humor came across immediately. He sized you up, drilling questions about where you went to college, what you majored in, what your top three movies from the 1980s were. You were pretty sure he liked you, but you didn’t think he trusted you. And that was okay. You knew that was something you’d have to earn around there.

“No soulmark yet, kid?” He asked, eyeing up your bare wrist.

“Not yet.” You confirmed.

“That makes you what, twenty-three? Twenty-four?”

“Twenty-four. As of last month, actually.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “Well that’s exciting. I’m sure you’re counting down the days.”

“More or less.” You chuckled, catching Steve watching you out of the corner of your eye. He did that a lot, you noticed.

Before Tony could come up with some witty comeback, the lights flashed red, accompanied by a loud siren.

“Vis? What’s going on?” Tony asked as Vision walked into the room, his sophisticated sweater melting into the uniform you’d seen on the news, red and green with a golden cape.

“There seems to be a stir at the local fairgrounds. Tremors and gunshots. Hostages.”

“Alright, let’s go pay them a visit then.” Tony pressed a button on his watch and transformed into Iron Man in front of your very eyes. “You can stay here or come with us. Up to you. But suit up fast. We’re out in five.”

You stood there for a moment, waiting for the shock to wear off, but the sirens definitely weren’t helping.

“Stick with me.” Steve instructed, voice calm, confident.

“Okay.” You nodded, following after him, towards the hangar where they kept the jets.

Natasha was standing at a locker, pulling her catsuit on with impressive speed, Clint beside her, loading a quiver with arrows, checking his bow.

“Nat, can you get her ready?”

“Baby’s first mission?” She asked, impressed.

You nodded, waiting for orders.

“Well, it should be an easy one, from the sound of it. Here, put this on. We’ll get you your own gear in the next few weeks.”

She chucked you an extra suit and you did your best to shimmy into it. Surprisingly, you could actually move in it. There were holsters, but you weren’t gun trained, so you figured it was best to leave that to the professionals. Instead, you followed the others onto the jet, hoping your forcefields and blossoming battle instincts would be enough to protect you out there.

***

The fair had devolved quickly into madness. There was fire, screaming, running, and gunshots. You flinched at the onslaught of it, but followed the others out anyway, listening to the voice in your earpiece, Steve’s voice, as he issued orders. You were put on civilian evacuation with Sam while the others engaged with the attackers. Six of them.

You did your job diligently, ushering people to a safe distance while law enforcement arrived. Until one of the attackers engaged with you, however, mistaking you for a civilian. Something snapped. In an instant your flight instinct vanished, replaced with the need to fight. He punched at you and you countered, sweeping a leg under him and then using a forcefield to knock him into the cornfield.

One of them launched a bazooka at Tony while he wasn’t looking, and without a thought, you trapped the explosive in a bubble, forcing it into the air where it exploded harmlessly, away from everyone.

And when the dust settled, the rest of the team turned to look at you, sharing looks with each other.

“Thanks for the save, kid. I owe you one.” Tony complimented, clapping you on the back on his way into the jet. “Let’s get something to eat. I’m starving.”

Your heart raced with the adrenaline of battle, the feeling of a job well done. Steve gave you a thumbs-up, a proud grin. His risk had paid off. You weren’t a total failure.

“You doin’ okay?” He asked, slinging his shield onto his back.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You replied, letting the energy fizzle back into your palms.

He watched with interest at the faint crackles of blue that made up your powers. “You did good out there.”

You felt your cheeks flush. “Thanks, I—"

“Alright new girl, were are we stopping for food?” Natasha asked, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

“I get to pick?” You asked with a laugh.

“And don’t be afraid to pick something fancy. It’s Tony’s treat.” Clint added, walking with the rest of you onto the jet. You strapped in while the others tried their darndest to influence your pick, bickering like siblings. Like your family.

Yeah, you could get used to this.

Waypoint

Your training started shortly after that first mission. Bruce took all your vitals, measured them before, during, and after use of your powers. He recorded said powers with every device known to man until he had your ability down to a science. He had a hunch they were of cosmic origin, but you had no idea when you could have possible come in contact with something like that.

Next came a uniform. At the moment, it was a dark indigo color, something similar to navy blue, but leaning a bit more purple. The chest area was left blank, Tony claiming he’d add a symbol once his graphic design team came up with something. He did add some accents up the arms and down the legs, thin, light blue lines that matched the color of your powers.

Natasha and Clint gave you a few crash courses on weapons and your aim left a bit to be desired, but your hand-eye coordination wasn’t bad. Sam put you on a modified military workout regimen to get in shape, get your stamina up with the rest of the team.

You practiced making forcefields, seeing how big you could make them, how small, how much force they could endure before they broke. Natasha shot some bullets at them, and your fields caught them, allowing you to kill their momentum and drop them harmlessly to the ground. They could withstand some electricity, but not Wanda’s powers. And they held against Steve’s superstrength, but not for long. Still, a few hits from a supersoldier was more than most could endure, so it would buy you some time in the field.

Eventually, you moved on from just forcefields and started learning to move objects. It turned out, you were not limited to bubbles. You could create platforms underneath things. This evolved into creating platforms underneath people, that they could jump on, or ride on top of while you moved them.

You practiced using them for transport too, but it was harder standing on them while controlling them, especially if you tried to jump from platform to platform. It was a bit like patting your head and rubbing your tummy, and it would take a lot of practice.

There weren’t many missions, and the ones that popped up, you didn’t get sent on. They were high level things, and while your powers were improving, and very quickly, Bruce was always quick to reassure you, you weren’t ready for covert ops yet, especially ones that had been months in the making.

Every time Steve got sent off, he left with that sad little half-smile of his, the one where he pressed his lips together, eyes glittering like a lake under moonlight. He’d give you some words of comfort, usually dealing with how short the mission was supposed to be. It didn’t often make you feel better.

Bruce stayed behind with you, most times. More like all of the times. Code Greens, as they were called, were seldom necessary, and besides, as they had learned with Wanda back during the Ultron days, Bruce could be a liability if someone else got in his head. But it was nice not being completely alone in the big empty facility.

“He always looks so sad when he leaves.” You noted, sipping from a mug of warm tea. Steve had left only moments before, the last member of the team that was shipping out.

Bruce thought about it for a moment. “Does he?”

“Oh. I don’t know. Maybe I don’t know him that well.” You shrugged, the sounds of Animal Crossing resonating from the TV.

“You know, he has, lately. He didn’t used to.” Bruce noted.

“Weird.”

“Uh-huh.” He replied absentmindedly. “So explain to me this game?”

“Okay, so you move to this island and have to spend all your money paying off debt to this raccoon…”

It was in another training session that there was a malfunction. A shock grenade went off dangerously close to Sam. Before you could even process what you were doing, your hand shot out, a bright, pulsating star crackling in front of him, another, second star on the other side of the room. Steve assessed the situation and used the shield to knock Sam into the star, neutralizing the grenade right after. There was a bright flash and Sam appeared on the other side of the room, tumbling out of the second star.

You froze, curling your fingers and closing both of them. There was a slight pinch in your shoulder, near the base of your neck. The others all stared.

“Wait, what was that?” Bruce asked over the intercom.

“You did that?” Steve asked, motioning to Sam as he walked over.

“I think so.”

“What was that?”

Natasha asked, looking you up and down. Sam stared at you like you’d sprouted a third eye.

“I don’t know.”

“Do it again.” Bruce insisted. “Hang on, I’m coming in there.”

The door from the observation room opened and Bruce joined the rest of you in the circle that was steadily forming, all of them watching you, waiting.

“I don’t know, it was just like…” You focused on that feeling again, the desperation to get Sam the hell away from that grenade, and as though you were punching a hole through reality, it opened in the center of the circle, an eight-pointed star, bobbing and ebbing and flowing, made of the light blue energy you were so familiar with.

Carefully, you opened another one, ten feet in the air above the first. Clint shrugged and chucked a tennis ball into it. Sure enough, it popped up to the second one, before falling down through the first one again. This continued until eventually you closed the bottom one, letting the tennis ball bounce harmlessly across the floor.

“Well shit.”

“Waypoints.” Bruce said, deep in thought. “Teleportation. This…this opens up a lot of doors.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Steve murmured.

“Hey, that’s kind of cool. Waypoint.” Clint said, drawing attention to it. “What do you think?”

“What, like as a codename?” You asked, weighing it as an option.

“I like it.” Sam grinned. “Waypoint.”

“Waypoint.” You repeated, trying it out. Hi, I’m Waypoint. I’m an Avenger.

It sounded silly, but it was getting more official by the day. There was, of course, only one way to make it official official, and that was with one of Tony Stark’s famed parties…

Wonderstruck

You let out a sigh, staring at your reflection in the mirror. It was the night of the big party. Your first, as an Avenger, and the official induction of what Tony was deeming the second class of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, Sam: the Falcon, Wanda: the Scarlet Witch, Vision, and You: Waypoint.

He’d gotten you a dress to wear, one that matched your uniform. It was long, sleek, that navy blue/indigo color. It glittered like stars and moved like a dream. And in the middle of it, poised at the base of the sweetheart neckline, was the eight-pointed star that Tony had turned into your symbol.

Your hair and makeup were done, and all that was left was the zipper.

Someone knocked on the door.

“It’s open!” You called, expecting Natasha or Wanda. Instead, it was Steve, who, when he saw you were unzipped, pulled the door almost all the way closed and shielded his eyes with his hand.

“Sorry! I’ll leave—”

“Wait, actually, could you help me zip this up? I can’t reach.”

Steve nodded, slowly lowering his hand and entering the room. He closed the door behind him to give you some privacy. He was dressed in a sharp black suit with a blue tie. His lapel pin looked like a tiny version of his shield.

“Wow…” He murmured, taking you in. “You look great, (Y/N).”

“You think so? I’m not sure blue is really my color…”

He scoffed. “It most certainly is.” He swept the hair off of your shoulder, meeting your eyes in the reflection in the mirror as he gently pulled the zipper higher until it was secure in place. “In more ways than one.”

“Yeah, guess so.” You agreed, nervous energy crackling around your fingers, blue as ever. You dispelled it, snapping out of it.

Steve looked at the two of you in the mirror for a long time before turning towards the door again. Halfway there, though, he turned back around, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a flat velvet box. “This is, um…for you.”

“Oh! Thank you.” You reached for it, heart racing. Inside was a necklace, its pendant a silver star with eight points. In the center, an aquamarine gem. You gasped, looking at it. It was beautiful, delicate. “Steve, this is beautiful. Thank you so much.”

“It’s the least I could do.” He said, offering his hand. “May I?”

“Please.” You said, handing him the necklace and moving your hair out of the way. He did the clasp behind your neck. It settled between your collarbones.

“There. Now it’s official.” He whispered.

“Almost.”

“Almost.” Steve agreed, offering you his elbow. “Right this way.”

You looped your arm through his, letting him lead you out into the initial murmurs of the party. What Natasha dubbed the “extended family” had shown up. Rhodey, Maria Hill, Nick Fury, Happy Hogan, Pepper Potts, and, of course, Thor.

He was a sight, that was for sure. He towered over everyone else at 6’5”, arms the size of tree trunks. It was a bit intimidating to say the very least.

“Rogers!” Thor bellowed.

“Thor! I didn’t think you were coming.”

He grinned. “I never miss a feast.” His eyes fell on you. “And you must be this new team member Banner spoke of.”

“I’m (Y/N). It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“The honor is mine.”

“Here.” Natasha handed you a champagne flute. She eyed up your necklace. “That’s cute.”

“Steve gave it to me.”

She quirked an eyebrow and looked up at the supersoldier, who still had your arm. “Steve has good taste.”

“Steve had help.” He admitted, smiling sheepishly.

“I’d get you one too, Rogers, but Thor has the strong stuff.” Natasha said, patting his other arm while you took a sip of the champagne. It was sweet, tangy. “God’s favorite boy scout has trouble getting drunk.”

“My tolerance is too good.”

“I think we just need to get you a Four Loko. Or two.”

“A what?” Steve asked.

“It’s like four drinks in one can. They’re insane. I tried in college, but tapped out halfway through.”

He considered it for a moment, letting out a laugh. “See, that just might work.”

Tony wandered around the lounge, greeting everyone. He looked you up and down. “You look beautiful, Portal Girl.”

You internally chuckled. The others had advised you not to feed his ego when he used his nicknames. “Thank you, Tony.”

“And you’re also here, Rogers.”

“Tony.” Steve nodded.

“You her date tonight?” He asked, motioning to your joint arms.

“Oh. Yeah, I suppose I am.” Steve agreed, not budging. Neither were you.

“Well, I hope you’ve taken some dance lessons since last time, Rogers. I’m sure (Y/N) wouldn’t want to have her feet walked all over.”

Steve chuckled and rolled his eyes as Tony moved onto his next targets. Sam emerged, looking very sharp in a red suit. Even Vision had dressed up for the occasion, Wanda beside him wearing an elegant red dress. The two of them talked and laughed on the other side of the room and you smiled. You could tell when you moved in that he cared about her.

You wondered if robots could have soulmates, too. If any android had a soul, surely it was Vision. Maybe you’d ask him about it sometime.

Once all of the expected guests were accounted for, Tony did the briefest ceremony in the history of ceremonies, introducing you all to the few members of the press he had allowed to come. You spent the beginning of the evening shaking hands, networking, and then once the strangers left, the real party started.

Nat switched you to something a lot stronger to champagne, and she was running the bar, so it was easy to get refills. Clint and Thor were arm wrestling on one of the tables which was…hilarious, admittedly.

Steve found you after a few hours apart. “Hey, will you be my partner?”

“Sure, for what?”

He laughed, loosening up quite a bit with Thor’s Asgardian mead in his system. “Sam and Bruce are trying to teach me how to play Beer Ball or something.”

“Beer Pong?”

“That one, yeah.” He nodded. “Winners play Clint and Nat.”

“That checks out.” You chuckled. “Yeah, I’m game. I haven’t played since college, though.”

“I haven’t played ever so I’m sure you’re a step ahead of me anyway.”

“We’ll see about that. Your physics skills are pretty good, what with the shield and all.” You complimented, earning that charming smile of his. “We might just give them a run for their money.”

“Enough flirting, kids, get over here.” Bruce grinned as he finished lining up the cups.

“You know how to play Beer Pong?” You asked, plucking a ping pong ball off of the table and fiddling with it.

“Kid, I have seven PhDs. I have played my share of Beer Pong.” Bruce admitted.

You couldn’t help but smile at that. It was nice to see the Avengers loosen up like this, have a good time together, really truly bond.

You gave Steve the basic rundown of the rules: no elbows past the edge of the table, balls back, stoplight, island, and that if you let Sam and Bruce get too many cups, you and Steve would get “schwaisted” as the kids said, or, at the very least, you would. Steve would probably be fine.

“Ladies first.” Sam said, giving you the second ping pong ball, one of which, you handed to Steve.

“You’re gonna regret that.” You said, rubbing the ball between your hands before perfectly bouncing it into the cup at the front of the pyramid. “Your turn, Steve.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” He said, sinking the ball into the same cup. “I believe that’s three cups, gentlemen.”

Sam’s jaw dropped. He shared a look with Bruce. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

“You’re telling me.” Bruce chuckled, retrieving the ping pong ball and rolling it back. He started drinking the contents of the first cup, leaving the other two to Sam. “Alright, do your worst.”

Needless to say, you wiped the floor with the other two. Barely even gave them a chance. Which is why it was only fair that Clint and Natasha kicked the absolute shit out of the two of you.

You struggled to down your third cup, which is why when you reached for the fourth, Steve shook his head and took it from you, only offering a wink when you opened your mouth to protest.

“Hey! Steve, it’s supposed to be five each.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, she already finished hers.” Steve shrugged, chugging another like it was water. “Right, (Y/N)?”

“Yeah absolutely. What he said.” You shrugged.

You helped clean up the mess a bit after the game was over, rounding up empty cups, wiping down the table, and then washing your hands as Tony switched the music to something upbeat, dancing music.

“Come on, let’s dance.” Steve urged, clearly toeing the line between tipsy and drunk. He reached out for your hand and you couldn’t resist. You didn’t even try.

You let him lead you out to the middle of the room, where Wanda and Vision were already dancing together and looking adorable doing it.

“I thought you couldn’t dance.” You laughed as he spun you around to the music.

“I’m a quick learner.” He whispered, mouth against your ear.

You swore your entire body flushed red, but you let your feet lead you through the dance. Steve took both of your hands, swinging you out and then back in, spinning you around. You blamed the alcohol on what happened next. Your heel caught on the fabric of your dress and you fell over the back of one of the couches, tugging Steve down with you.

He laughed, using an arm to push himself off of you, hovering, eyes soft. “Sorry.”

“It’s my fault. You’ve got me falling for you, Rogers.” You murmured, gazing up at him through your eyelashes.

You said it as a joke, a quip, but there was some truth in it. More than some. It had been a magical, magical night. And if it weren’t for the leather cuff on his wrist, you could see yourself spending the rest of your life with him.

Steve closed his eyes, smiling and sitting up, helping you upright again. “I’ll go get us some water.”

You sighed and sat back against the couch, heart hammering in your chest.

Natasha perched on the armrest, looking down at you. “What was that?”

“Not sure. I think I fumbled the bag. If…if there even was a bag I guess.” You chuckled, shrugging.

“No, there is something there. I can see it.” Natasha said, thinking as she nursed a glass of wine. “Hmmm…”

Steve stood in the kitchen, getting two glasses of filtered water from the fridge. He exhaled a deep sigh, leaning against it. He replayed the moment in his head over and over. The look in your eyes, the way your necklace glimmered in the light, the sound of your voice, the flush of your cheeks. You were catching feelings for him, that much was clear. He wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

Steve Rogers, I am so sorry you will not hear me say these words until after I go back tomorrow, but I love you. I have loved you for a very long time. And I know I will love you for the rest of my life.

Maybe it was a good thing, he reasoned, thinking back on his first night with you all those years ago. But you still couldn’t know why. Not yet.

It was going to kill him to keep it a secret for ten more months.

Timeless

Sherbert rays of the sunrise lit the training room, filling it with a warm orange glow. You were sitting on the floor, stretching your legs while you listened to music. That was another thing on the growing list of skills that had improved during your stint as an Avenger: your flexibility.

Suddenly, Steve was standing over you, saying something you couldn’t hear due to the noise cancelling headphones over your ears.

You slid one off, looking up at him. “Good morning.”

“Morning. You’re here early.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” You shrugged, reaching for your other leg.

“Sorry to hear that. Wanna talk about it?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I think I drank too much caffeine before bed last night. Learned my lesson. No caffeine after six.”

“That’s a good rule. Mind if I stretch with you?” He asked.

“I don’t mind.” You tossed your headphones onto your workout bag and connected your phone to the Bluetooth speakers, putting on some music you could both listen to.

“I recognize her. This girl’s voice.”

“Taylor Swift.”

“Ah. Yes, her. I keep hearing about her.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” You laughed. “Have you liked any of her songs so far?”

“I don’t know if I could name one for you, to be honest.” He listened to the song that was playing. “This one’s not bad, though.”

“I’ll send you some recommendations. There are some I think you’d really vibe with.”

He smiled. “I’d really like that.”

The others came in not long after, did their warm-ups, and then Steve briefed everyone on the plan for their training session, one in which everyone would swap weapons, practice using each other’s things in case they ever had to in battle if one of their teammates got disarmed.

You started with Clint. He showed you the absolute basics of archery, how to pull back the bow, how to notch an arrow, how to aim, taking into account distance. You fired a few arrows into a target and did okay, you supposed, but you would need some practice if you wanted to actually get good at it. Years of it, realistically.

Natasha showed you how to use her electric batons, which were fun, but did intimidate you a little. You definitely did not want to end up on the wrong end of those things.

And then, inevitably, you were standing in front of Steve. He offered you his shield, which on its own seemed daunting. You held it for a second, assessing the weight of it. It was noticeably lighter than you thought it would be.

“Woah.”

“Yeah. People always expect it to be heavier.” He said, a hand resting on his hip as he watched you hold it. It looked so right in your hands, he decided. “It’s good for a lot of things, but first…” Carefully, he helped you put your arm through the straps on the back of it, holding it in front of your body in its primary and most famous purpose.

You let out a sigh, shaking your head. “This is so crazy.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, you have no idea.” You chuckled, waving it around a bit.

“You keep looking at it like it’s Thor’s hammer or something.” He teased.

“Feels like it.”

“Well the good news is, this thing is not password protected by some Asgardian magic words. The bad news is, that means the bad guys can pick it up, too.” Steve said, gently positioning your body in an offensive stance, nudging a foot with his own, switching your arms around. “You can use it to bash somebody head on, or you can angle it a bit to get a more direct blow. It will take the force of most things. I…I actually kind of don’t know the limits. Hasn’t failed me yet. The paint does come off from time to time, though, so don’t worry about that.”

“Okay, wow.” You nodded. “Good to know.”

“I trust you with it.” He said, eyes meeting yours.

You smiled, heart racing. “I’m honored.”

He showed you a few other tricks, and then training wrapped up for the day, everyone grabbing some water, taking a shower, or making plans for lunch. Once you walked off with Wanda, Nat cornered Steve.

“What was that?” She asked, that catlike grin on her face.

“What was what?”

“I saw it, you know, the way you looked at her. I think you’ve got a soft spot.”

“Yeah, well, I did rope her into all this. Can’t say I don’t feel responsible for her.” He dodged expertly, weaving through Natasha’s mental gymnastics with skill and precision, or so he thought.

“Uh-huh sure. Well, she, Wanda, and I are going antiquing this afternoon. You should come. After all, you know quite a bit about vintage valuables.”

He laughed. “Hey!”

She walked off, smiling to herself. Steve thought about it for all of four seconds before he decided he would tag along. He hadn’t been to an antique shop in this century, so he couldn’t imagine the kinds of things they had there now. He might even learn a thing or two.

***

After a quick lunch, Steve did decide to tag along. It wound up being him, Vision, and the girls, which he certainly didn’t mind.

You and Wanda were buzzing with excitement, Natasha looking on and following behind with Steve. Vision lingered, studying everything, picking things up to get a closer look. He had projected a human disguise over himself, something Steve didn’t know he could even do, but it seemed to work. No one had batted an eye at him since they stepped foot in the shop.

“This place is…huge.” Steve said, glancing down the hall of the seemingly endless store.

“Biggest one in the state.” You chimed. “It’s the whole city block.”

“There’s a basement, too. And a second floor.” Natasha informed him, patting his arm. “This is gonna be an all day kinda thing.”

“Oh undoubtedly.” He said, setting down the teacup in his hands, a petite, floral thing.

You sifted through a box of records, picking up the soundtrack of the Muppets Movie.

“Is that a frog?”

“This is Kermit thee Frog, show some respect.” You laughed, putting the record in your basket.

“Kermit?” Steve asked again, seeming genuine.

“Oh I forgot you missed the Muppets, oh my god.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound familiar.”

“We need to fix that as soon as possible.” You told him. “Can’t have you missing out on cultural icons like Gonzo and Miss Piggy.”

“Okay now you’re making things up.” He chuckled, shuffling through the records as well. You showed him a few good ones and he added them to his basket, saying something about how he’s been meaning to use his new record player.

Wanda browsed some vintage rings, picking out a few, and Natasha rifled through a rack of vintage dresses, most of them from the forties and fifties from the look of it. Nat held up a navy blue one, silky, with short ruffled sleeves and buttons down the front. Steve froze, looking at it. For a moment, it looked just a little too familiar. Like the dress you had worn that night.

Eventually Nat put the dress back. You hadn’t seen it. You were distracted by a shelf of VHS tapes, looking for the old Barbie movies, whatever those were. Wanda was with you, on the next shelf over, calling out movie names when she found something cool.

Steve wandered off on his own, looking around at the different trinkets and toys, old letterman jackets and jewelry, dishes that may or may not contain lead. Finally, he came upon a little room full of art, paintings and photographs, handmade pottery.

Time stood still.

He stared at the large painting on the wall, oil on canvas. Two star-crossed lovers dancing in a bar in Brooklyn, a little guy with a dream, dancing with the most beautiful girl in the world, twirling in her dark blue dress. His heart raced. He never thought he’d see this painting again.

It had been his last painting before leaving for Camp Lehigh, the last painting he did before his life and body changed forever. He’d used the last of his paints to make it, every color mixed with care to get the exact color of your hair, your eyes, your lips, all from memory.

And it was here in front of him. When he had been presumed dead, it must have been sold off. He didn’t really have anyone left it could go to.

In that moment, he wasn’t Captain America. Standing in his shoes was that little guy from Brooklyn.

“Woah.” You murmured, suddenly right next to him. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, it…it is.” He agreed, looking away from it. He didn’t want you to get too close of a look at it. However, that didn’t stop you from walking forward to inspect it closer.

“‘Soulmates.’ Artist unknown.” You read from the plaque. “Oh, it’s from the 40s. 1943. Does it look familiar?”

“Yeah, actually. Bucky liked that bar.” Steve said, pointing to the details of the interior. “It’s a little place in Brooklyn, called Val’s. Well, it was I guess. I don’t know if it’s still open anymore.”

Your eyes lingered on the woman’s face, on the man’s. You didn’t say anything about how they looked, about the uncanny resemblance to yourself and Steve. Instead, you sighed. “Someday, I want to be that in love with someone.”

He just about cried. But instead, he gathered his words, put a hand on your shoulder, and told you with confidence, “You will be.”

***

Hours later, when you were all shopped out and you’d checked out with your things, Steve stayed at the counter while the rest of you went to the car.

“Hey, um, that painting in the art room. The soulmates in the bar. I’m interested in buying it. Would it be possible to have it held here for a while, though?”

“Oh I’m sure we could arrange something,” said the old man at the counter with a smile and a nod. He started writing out the purchase form.

Steve glanced back towards where it was, that fragment of his soul he didn’t think he’d ever see again. He knew the fact that he’d stumbled upon it was nothing short of fate.

Wildest Dreams

It had been Tony’s idea. Of course it had. It always was, wasn’t it? He’d insisted that all the members of the team who hadn’t yet been exposed to Wanda’s mind manipulation should be, just in case there was a misfire during combat and one of you got caught in the crossfire. It would be important to see how each of you reacted, the kinds of things you saw so you’d be able to snap out of it.

Theoretically, of course.

This left Natasha, Steve, Thor, Bruce, and Tony out, as they’d already had their fun with Wanda’s magic. The rest of you, however, were waiting for your turn.

Wanda felt conflicted about it. She didn’t want to hurt her friends on accident, let alone on purpose, but Tony was insistent, and he had some of the others on his side. Namely, Rhodey, who had been hanging out more and more, and Clint, who’d had his experience with a different kind of mind control shortly before the Battle of New York.

It was part of why he’d volunteered to go first. Once he came to, he gave you a thumbs-up, shaking it off and walking over to Natasha.

“You sure you’re good?” She checked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. No big deal. Who’s next?”

Sam looked at you and the despondent look on your face before volunteering himself to go next. Rhodey went in solidarity, despite being too busy with his government responsibilities to be a full-time member of the team. And then it was your turn. You stood next to Wanda. She offered an apologetic smile before red crackled around her fingertips and it hit you.

For the first few seconds, you were fine. You felt tingly. You blinked a few times and your eyes felt weird. No doubt, your eyes were red, like the others’ turned when they were under the influence of Wanda’s powers.

“Hey, (Y/N), you okay?” Steve asked, voice urgent.

“Think so.” You replied, mouth full of cotton. It felt like that time in college someone had given you an edible that was too strong. The first and last time you’d ever gotten high. Like you were sinking and melting. Your legs buckled and Steve surged forward, catching you before you hit the floor, gently lowering you into a comfortable position. “Hey, you’re pretty strong…” You murmured, head lolling onto his shoulder.

The others all looked at each other. Clint dragged over a bean bag and Steve gently lowered you onto it, adjusting it so you’d be comfortable.

“She’ll be okay, Steve.” Natasha reassured him, the guilt in his eyes palpable, yet still not explained. Not entirely. She had a sneaking suspicion whatever it was had something to do with the name written on his wrist, the name he wouldn’t show anyone. Not her, not Nick Fury, not even Sam.

“Yeah, I know.” He nodded, slowly taking a step back. His eyes didn’t leave you. He had to force himself to look away. “I, um…I have to go…There’s a…” Steve motioned towards the door before leaving the room, while you sat there, catatonic, off in your own little world.

***

“Hey, (Y/N), you okay?” Steve asked, his voice close. “That was a long nap. Forget to set your alarm?”

You opened your eyes and you were laying down on the couch. Steve was standing at the island in the kitchen, cooking something. It smelled good. Really good. He was wearing a button-up, sleeves rolled to his elbows, still wearing his slacks from work. He had music playing from the record player, your vast collection of hits from decades of music, and he was still hooked on 40s jazz. You supposed you couldn’t blame him.

“You cooking?”

“Mmhmm.” He nodded. “Come over here and get a taste.”

You followed, out to the kitchen. He set down his wooden spoon and swiftly intercepted you, pulling you up onto the countertop, kissing you deeply, a hand running through your hair. Your hand came up to frame his cheek. He was growing a bit of a beard these days. You liked it, thought it suited him.

You sighed against his lips and then pulled away to look at him. He grabbed your wrist, pressing a long kiss to your soulmark. Three simple words. Steven Grant Rogers.

“I love you, doll.” His words cut through you, eyes tender and sincere. “Always have.”

But this wasn’t your Steve. And it wasn’t your reality, given away by the slightest tinge of red in his irises.

It wasn’t real. And neither was the glimmering wedding ring around your finger.

***

You blinked awake, the power dispersing from your head, leaving you shockingly sober. And hungry. That familiar sting was back, right between your neck and shoulder. You wondered how long it’d been.

Clint was in the room with you. So was Sam. Natasha was gone. Wanda too, surprisingly. As was Steve.

You got chills even thinking about him, the phantom of the wedding ring still clinging to your finger.

“You alright?” Sam asked, making eye contact with you first.

“Yeah, I’m good. How long…?”

“Three minutes. New record.” Clint said with a grin.

“Oh.” No wonder it had felt so short. Part of you wanted it to last longer.

“We’re sending Rhodey to get some food, if you’re hungry.” Sam said.

“Where from?”

“The golden arches.”

“I could go for some nuggies.” You admitted. “A McFlurry, perchance.”

Clint laughed. “How did I know you would say that?”

In the kitchen, Steve stood, hands on the counter, mug of coffee steaming in front of him, untouched. He stared at the cupboard door.

“That must be one interesting cupboard. You’ve been standing there for like five whole minutes.”

“It’s only been three.” Steve said, glancing at the clock.

“And the fact that you know down to the exact minute is why I’m so intrigued.” Natasha chimed, tilting her head. “What is going on with her? I have never seen you look at anyone like that in the entire time I’ve known you. Is she…what, the kid of an old friend? Grandkid?”

“It’s nothing, Natasha. She’s the newest member of the team, I’m just worried—”

“Steve.” She said, cutting him off, that look in her eye. “If you want to get all defensive about it, fine. Keep your secrets.” She sighed. “But if you need someone, I’m here. Whatever it is, you don’t have to carry it alone.”

Steve let out a long sigh, weighing his options. It was something to the tune of eight months until your birthday. That was still a long time. A lot of time for that secret to slip through the cracks and, potentially, break the timeline. The Butterfly Effect was something he had researched extensively. Your future together was something he wasn’t willing to risk.

No, it was too important that you stay in the dark, even if that meant keeping his friends in the dark, too.

“Thanks. I appreciate it. But I’m fine, really. It’s nothing.”

“Uh-huh.” She nodded unconvinced. “Well, she’s out of it. Clint just texted. She wants twenty chicken nuggets and an Oreo McFlurry.”

The relief was immediate. You were okay. He could only wonder what you had seen in there, and why it had been so quick. The others had been under for upwards of ten minutes. You’d only been down three. “Well good. I’ll let Rhodey know.”

Invisible String

It was late. A few weeks after your tussle with the Scarlet Witch, if you could even call it that. You could tell Wanda felt guilty about the whole thing, but it wasn’t her fault. If anything it was Tony’s. Sure, the exercise had prepared you for a worst case scenario, but it had also dug a very awkward gap between you and Steve. You could barely even look at him without wanting to burst into tears.

He had his soulmate, whoever they were. You really needed to let it go.

You walked down to the kitchen to get a cold drink, but there was already someone sitting at the table. Steve, sitting there, hand resting on his chin, papers spread out in front of him. There was a picture you recognized as Bucky Barnes.

You’d heard whispers of him around the Compound from time to time. Steve’s best friend turned Hydra assassin, brainwashed for decades and now, rogue, out there somewhere. Sam always seemed to be looking for the guy. Natasha and Clint, too. And there had never been any sign of him. Well, until now, it seemed.

On the TV, Star Wars was playing. Empire Strikes Back. Steve looked up at it every so often.

“Star Wars?” You asked.

He chuckled and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Your first time?”

“No. They were the first things I watched when I was out of the ice. I like them a lot. The hope, the Force, the Jedi stuff, the music.” He shrugged. “They’re good.”

“Who’s your favorite?”

Steve smiled, sheepish. “Han Solo.”

“And here I thought you’d say Luke Skywalker.”

“He’s great, too. You like Star Wars?”

“Yeah, I used to be obsessed with them in high school. Haven’t seen them in a while, though. I’m something of a Leia girl myself.”

“That makes a lot of sense.”

“Does it?”

“Oh yeah.” He nodded. “You’ve got that spark.”

“What order did you watch them in?”

“Nat made me watch the originals first.” He confessed. “I like the prequels, though. Well, two of the prequels. Phantom Menace is…”

“Oh yeah. You’re not alone in that.” You laughed softly. “You know, I never really pegged you as a sci-fi nerd.”

“Yeah, well, someone I really care about seemed to like them a whole lot, so I knew I had to check them out.” He shrugged. “What are you doing up so late?”

“Getting a drink. What are you doing up so late?”

He looked down at the papers and then back up at you. “Oh. Yeah, this is just…Trying to get some stuff figured out.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” You offered.

He thought about it for a long moment, letting out a little sigh before nodding. That was the only reassurance you needed before grabbing a can of soda from the fridge and plopping down into the seat next to him.

“They found him. Clint and Natasha. They think he’s hiding out in Kentucky somewhere.” Steve said. He shook his head. “He saved my life a few years ago. After all the brainwashing, he still pulled me out of the water. I don’t know how much of him is still him, but…”

“But it’s worth a try.” You reasoned. “Obviously he’s been through a lot, but he must be pretty strong to have made it through everything.”

“I don’t know when I’m going. They haven’t narrowed it down all the way. And Tony doesn’t want me to even go at all.”

“Tony is full of shit.”

He laughed. “Yeah…”

“If you want to go, you should go. And if you need me, I’m there. You shouldn’t have to do it alone.”

He met your eyes with a sobering gaze. “You mean it?”

“Yeah, of course.” You agreed. “When, uh, when I was in the eighth grade, my class took a trip down to DC. There’s a Captain America exhibit in the Air and Space Museum, it had just opened. We learned about you and Bucky. How close you were, what happened. There are videos of me just crying uncontrollably there, learning about it. They had to take me outside, get me some water. I couldn’t go back in. I don’t even know why. Something about it…”

“About me?” Steve whispered.

“That’s embarrassing. I shouldn’t have told you that.” You chuckled, shaking your head.

“It’s not embarrassing. It’s sweet.” Steve said, reaching for your hand on the table. You let him take it, fingers curling.

“So when you found me that day, I guess I always knew it would lead to something like this. A stroke of fate, or something.” You admitted. “Some part of me knew that you would mean something to me someday. I guess I never thought we would be friends.”

“How old were you?”

“God, this would have been like ten years ago at this point. I was like fourteen or something. I was twenty-one when they found you in the ice. It was all over the news my sophomore year of college, kind of right when I was figuring my powers out, actually. And then everything was all over the news and I…went into hiding more or less, hoping it wouldn’t be me on the TV next.”

“Until the mall?”

“Yeah. But I couldn’t just…let it happen, you know? It was like some part of me knew that I had these powers for a reason, and that if I didn’t stop it, who would? I didn’t know you were there, obviously, but, I think even if I had, I still would have jumped in.”

He smiled softly, eyes earnest. He gave your hand a squeeze. “Well I’m really glad you did, for the record. I think we’re all a little better off because of it.”

There was a moment of quiet. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“How old are you?”

“Oh, um…I’m ninety-eight.”

You chuckled. “No, like how old are you really?”

Steve took a breath. No one ever asked him that. No one really cared about that. No one except you, it seemed. “I’m not sure. I’d have to do some math. I think I’m twenty-eight maybe. Twenty-nine.”

“Thought so.” You smiled. “Well, Steve, whenever you get it figured out, say the word and I’ll suit up. We’ll bring him home.”

Out of the Woods

The next mission you were sent on wasn’t to bring back Bucky. Not yet. Instead, you were on the team that got deployed into a rainforest to break up a rogue Hydra base. It was warm, almost too warm for your uniform, but you were grateful for the coverage, especially when they started shooting.

You ran down the makeshift path, evading enemies and throwing up forcefields to stop them in their tracks. Thor was in town, so he was zipping around through the trees with his hammer, the force of it bringing some down every once in a while.

“On your six.” Steve reported through the comms. You dodged out of the way and sure enough, a Hydra agent tumbled ahead, tripped by a small field you cast at his feet. A few of Natasha’s bullets took care of that.

“Thanks.” You replied.

“Don’t mention it. I could actually use some backup. I’m in the building. There’s more of them than I thought there would be.”

“I’m on my way.” You reported, changing directions and sprinting towards the building housing the Hydra base. What they were doing here, you had no clue, but Bruce theorized it had something to do with a meteor that had landed out that way a few months prior. They were probably harvesting whatever materials had been inside it.

You kicked down the door. Steve had six guys on him, two of which he disposed of quickly. You made a portal beneath one guy, sending him falling down a flight of stairs with the second portal you opened.

The other three guys went down quickly enough, only for a guy in a giant mech armor to come crashing through the interior wall. He shot and Steve jumped in front of you, taking a hit to the neck. A tiny syringe filled with shimmering purple liquid.

“Fuck! Steve!” You ran to him, but that didn’t take care of the large problem looming behind you. Seeing red, you made another portal at the feet of the robot, opened it in the ceiling, and cut it off as it was halfway through, destroying it in a flash of sparks and shredded metal. It shut down, giving you time to get to Steve.

He was sitting against the wall, head slumped to the side. You took the syringe out of his neck, tucking it into a pouch on your belt for testing. If this thing was poison, you’d need Bruce to start whipping up an antidote as soon as possible.

“Steve, hey, stay with me.” You touched his face, trying to wake him.

At your touch, he blinked a few times, drowsy. He gave you a crooked smile. “Heyyy, there you are.”

“Come on, we’ve gotta get you back to the jet.” You told him, pulling him to his feet, but he slumped in your arms like dead weight. You had been working out since you’d been recruited, but he was still heavy. “You’ve gotta work with me, big guy.”

“They used to call me little guy.” He murmured, sounding drunk. “Back in Brooklyn.”

“I’m sure they did.” You slung his arm around your shoulders and started hauling ass out of the building. A few agents shot at you, trying to hit you while you were distracted with carrying Steve to safety, but they forgot you were the one Avenger whose specialty was defense.

You lit a forcefield in your left hand, using its faint blue light to guide the two of you through the dim hallways. It slowed all the bullets to a stop, causing them to drop to the floor harmlessly. There was something kind of poetic about it, you supposed. Steve was so famous for that shield of his, but now you were the shield, protecting him.

“Did you guys find anything in there?” Clint asked.

“The good news is, we cleared most of it out. Bad news is, Steve got shot with something. I’m bringing him back to the ship now. I don’t know what it was but he’s acting really drunk.”

“Tranq darts seem to have that effect on him, yeah.” Bruce explained. “Bring him back here and I’ll make sure it wasn’t laced with something else.”

“On it.”

You lugged Steve along, stopping to rest and readjust against a wall for a second.

“Thank you for takin’ care of me even when I don’t feel so good.” He said, leaning his full weight against you.

“Of course, Steve. I’ve got ya.” You pulled his arm around your shoulders again. “You would do the same for any of us.”

He smiled, face impossibly close to yours. “Oh, I’d do anything for you, (Y/N).”

You knew it was probably just the drugs talking but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t do something to you when he said it anyway.

Once you were outside, you opened a waypoint in front of the two of you, the second portal in front of the jet, and then stepped through, closing it behind you. Bruce opened the door and helped you haul Steve inside, onto the cot of the makeshift mobile infirmary.

You handed Bruce the empty vial.

“Thank you for remembering. Thor always breaks these and then I have to do bloodwork to figure out what was in them.” He chuckled.

“He’s very smash first, ask questions later.”

“No wonder he and Hulk get along so well.” Bruce joked. “Alright, get back out there. I’ll make sure he’s alright.”

“Thank you.”

“Be careful out there.” Steve advised, eyes half-lidded. “They have guns.”

“I’ll be extra careful, alright? I promise.” You met his eyes and he smiled immediately. Once you were sure he was okay, you stepped out of the jet again, getting back to help the others.

***

When you got back, you were nursing a bullet wound. They’d gotten you in the arm. It wasn’t too bad, though, the bleeding had almost stopped. Natasha went straight for the med kit when you two stepped foot on the jet, motioning you over to the stool.

Steve was there, still on the cot. He stared as Nat started cleaning your wound. “Wait, you got hurt?”

“I’m okay. It’s not that bad.”

He nodded and reached for your hand. “I’m really glad you’re alright, doll. Had me worried sick.”

Doll. You replayed the word in your mind. Steve had called you a lot of things in the past few months, but never once had he used that somewhat outdated term of endearment. You liked it, though.

You met Natasha’s eyes and she smirked while the supersoldier held your hand.

Sam walked in next, eyeing up the scene unfolding in front of him. “Woah, what’d I miss? Feels like I missed several chapters.”

“Steve is drunk.” Clint explained, counting his remaining arrows.

“Tranq dart. He’s fine. Just needs to ride it out for a few hours. He should be back to normal by the time we get home.” Bruce explained as he put away his tablet.

“You feeling alright, buddy?” Sam walked over and put a hand on Steve’s other arm. “You’re holding (Y/N)’s hand kinda tight there.”

“Huh?” Steve asked, directing his eyes to your joint hands. He let go. “Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Steve.” You reassured him.

The others trickled in slowly until everyone was accounted for, the base destroyed, the Hydra operatives in SHIELD custody for questioning. Fury and his team would handle it from there. You couldn’t help but play the mission over and over in your head.

Never had you used a waypoint to split something in half. But something had clicked in you when Steve was hurt. You’d never felt like that before, like part of your soul itself was being ripped out. He meant more to you than you cared to admit, especially when your fate was tied elsewhere.

Still, your new ability needed training. It was a dangerous skill to have, and if you didn’t hone it properly, you could end up doing some serious damage on accident.

Come Find Me in the Future

It was the night before you and a select group of the team were heading out to find and recover Bucky. Clint had finally gotten a hit on him. But if he had, that meant others could be after him, too. People that wanted him back. Badly.

You were nervous about it for that reason. You weren’t sure why the rest of you hadn’t already left, to be honest. You didn’t want to race with Hydra. It wasn’t one you were sure you’d win.

To stave off the feeling of dread, you had commandeered the living room TV and popped in Howl’s Moving Castle. You were nursing a mug of chamomile tea in your hands, playing games on your Switch.

You were near the end of the movie, at the part where Sophie was whisked to the past, when Steve walked into the room, in his pajamas, a tank top and a pair of plaid pants.

“Hey, Steve.”

“Hey. You’re up late. Big mission tomorrow.”

“Yeah, it’s almost over.” You told him. “Drinking my sleepy tea as we speak.”

“Sleepy tea?”

“Chamomile mint. It’s good. There’s some over by the Keurig if you want any.”

“Thanks.” He smiled, walking over. “What’s this?”

“Howl’s Moving Castle. One of my favorites.” You told him.

“What’s it about?”

“That is a complicated question.” You laughed. “I’d have to start it over, I think.”

“Another time, maybe.” He chuckled, crossing his arms.

Steve watched as Sophie got sucked back through the wormhole to the present.

She called out “I know how to help you now! Find me in the future!”

He perked up. “Wait, she…there’s time travel?”

“Yeah, she gets pulled into the past for a bit and tells him to find her and then years later, the first words he says to her are ‘There you are, sweetheart. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.’ It’s really sweet.”

“They’re soulmates?”

“They are.” You nodded.

“Does that happen? Often?” Steve asked, hung up on it. “In real life?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve never heard of that happening before.” You shook your head. “I don’t think anyone would believe it, even if it did. Happens a lot in fiction, though.”

“Oh. Cool.” Steve nodded. He met your eyes and then looked down at his lap, tongue flitting across his pink lips. “I, uh, wanted to apologize.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “For what?”

“The mission last week. I, uh…I said some things and, uh…I just, I’d hate to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry if I did.”

“You didn’t.” You assured him. “No apology necessary. You were drugged. I probably would have said worse, to be honest.”

He smiled. “Okay. Cool. Thanks. And thank you for agreeing to come tomorrow. We could really use the help.”

“Of course. I’ve got your back, always.” You told him, earning another one of those earnest, lovesick smiles. “Anywho, I finished that playlist for you. The Taylor Swift one. I can make you a more general one with different songs, but…figured that was a decent starting place.”

“Great, yeah, thank you.” He nodded, looking at his phone as it pinged with the notification you had sent it to him. “I’ll give it a listen.”

“Let me know what you think.”

“Oh I will.” He chuckled to himself. “Really, thank you. I appreciate it. And um, have a good night. See you tomorrow.”

“Bright and early.” You saluted.

He nodded before repeating, “Bright and early.”

Bygones

Bright and early was an understatement. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon when your alarm went off. You groaned, rolled over and silenced your screaming phone, forcing yourself to sit up so you didn’t drift back off.

Today was too important for that.

Instead, you got up, brushed your hair, and went out to the kitchen, where Vision had whipped up a full breakfast for everyone going out. It was you, Steve, Nat, Wanda, and Sam. A small team, but enough firepower to bring him back without overwhelming and/or scaring him off.

“Morning.” Steve said, eyes landing on you the moment you walked into the room.

“Morning.”

“Coffee?” He offered, pushing a cup of your favorite iced coffee over to you. You couldn’t lie, you were impressed.

“Thanks.” You grinned, taking a long sip to kickstart your morning. You loaded a plate up with eggs, sausage, bacon, and toast, plus a little side of hashbrowns, thanking Vision thoroughly.

“It is my pleasure, (Y/N). As someone who does not require sleep, it would be rude of me to let you all starve so early in the day.”

“(Y/N), you got him listening to Taylor Swift?” Sam asked, eyes drilling into you.

You laughed. “Uh, yeah. What about it? She’s a cultural icon, do you want him left out of the loop?”

“Hey, I’m not complaining.” Steve shrugged, sipping on his coffee.

“Of course you’re not.” Natasha chuckled, words warbled by her own cup. You noticed the way her lips pursed. If you weren’t mistaken, you’d say she was nervous. About what, you couldn’t tell. She seldom got nervous. Or at least, she seldom let it show. But it was definitely there.

Wanda was the last into the kitchen, already fully put together. She gave the chef her thanks with a warm smile and sparkling eyes. You couldn’t help but smile. Those two, beyond a shadow of a doubt, were absolutely made for each other. You wondered what her wrist would have to say about it when the time came.

Once everyone had eaten, those who weren’t suited up got ready, locked and loaded for a tense mission. You’d have Clint on the coms here, doing recon from a drone. The rest of you loaded up onto the jet, strapping in.

Nat and Sam hopped into the cockpit. Wanda sat next to you, Steve across the aisle, his eyes meeting yours every so often.

“It’ll be alright.” You said, trying to dispel his nerves.

He nodded, but didn’t reply, just giving a short nod and staring at the holographic map on the wall as you approached closer and closer. You could see that little guy from Brooklyn peeking through the eyes of the supersoldier sitting across from you, nervous about his best friend.

You unbuckled just before you landed, walking across the jet to strap on your weapons. The others did the same, arming themselves. Nat was going to keep the jet warm for a speedy exit, the look in her eyes still unreadable. The rest of you got ready for war.

It was an abandoned warehouse, large garage door, broken windows, slanted roof with a hole in it. Definitely not the most secure of places. According to Clint’s drone, Bucky was in the back room.

“Waypoint, I need you out here ready to get us a quick escape.”

“Got it.” You nodded, positioning yourself within eyeshot of the warehouse and the jet so you could make a portal either way.

“Wanda, Sam, you’re with me.” Steve instructed, taking a minute to breathe, to think. “He’s gonna be ready to run. We have to talk him out of it.”

“Uh, Cap. Might wanna work a little faster. There’s another plane incoming. About three minutes out.”

“Alright.” Steve nodded, taking off his helmet and slinging his shield onto his back. He led the other two into the building.

For a heartwrenching two minutes, you didn’t hear anything. And then you heard a plane. And then gunshots.

“(Y/N), now!” Steve instructed.

You did as you were told, opening the waypoint in the warehouse, another just outside. Nat had picked the jet up off of the ground, firing at the one Hydra had brought. She took another shot, damaging the wing and causing it to go down.

“Shit, wait—!”

There was a flash of light and you expected it to be Steve that came through first. Maybe Bucky, even. Instead, it was a grenade. And a split second later, it exploded, knocking you unconscious.

***

Steve stood over you, horrified. Thanks to your suit, the damage didn’t seem too bad. But you had blood and soot caked on your face, the ends of your hair singed.

It was his fault. He had told you to open the Waypoint, only for a Hydra agent to toss a grenade right through it.

He all but collapsed to his knees, collecting you in his arms. Bucky was on the jet already, Sam, too. Only he and Wanda were outside with you.

“(Y/N), come on. Open those eyes for me.” He pleaded, voice soft, eyes aching with tears. “Hey, come on. Please…”

“We should get her back to the jet.” Wanda goaded softly, a hand on Steve’s arm.

“Yeah.” Steve nodded, a tear slipping down his cheek. He scooped you off of the ground, an arm beneath your legs, the other around your back. Your arms hung down, limp. Your head rested heavily against his shoulder, eyes closed.

By the time Steve walked up the ramp, Nat already had the infirmary cot down, ready to go. Bucky watched, eyes intense. He looked up when Steve approached, eyes falling on you. They widened when he got a look at you.

“Woah, is that…?”

“Yeah.” Steve nodded. “It is.”

Natasha helped him get you situated in the cot, wrapping the cuff around your arm that would measure your vitals. With everyone accounted for, Sam closed the door, lifting the jet into the air.

“I’ve got Banner on the line.” Natasha told him.

“Good.” Steve’s eyes didn’t leave you for a second, watching as the breaths entered and left your lungs. “Tell him to get the infirmary ready for her.”

“Already on it, Cap. She’ll be okay. Her vitals look…well they look good, all things considered.” Bruce relayed. “Just get back here as fast as you can.”

***

As soon as the jet landed, Steve unhooked you from the vitals monitor and collected you in his arms, carrying you to the gurney Bruce had ready, walking with him as he wheeled you towards the infirmary. Bruce insisted he needed some time and sent Steve away, taking a piece of his heart with him.

Vision checked over Bucky, giving him the okay almost immediately before going to help Bruce in the infirmary.

Steve sat at the table, Bucky sitting down to join him. The others gave them a minute alone.

“Hey, pal.” Steve exhaled, trying to force a smile. “Glad you’re here.”

“Me too.” He agreed. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

“Of course.” Steve nodded. “I’m with you—”

“Til the end of the line.” Bucky smiled, eyes soft. His irises flicked towards the infirmary and back. “You wanna talk about it?”

Steve let out a sigh, the wall finally coming down and more tears slipping down his cheeks. “It’s my fault, it’s all my fault. She’s—”

“She’s gonna be fine. I promise you.” Bucky’s hand grabbed onto Steve’s wrist, the covered one. The one with her name etched onto it. “She has to be. Has she…does she know yet?”

“No one does. Just me. And you.” Steve confessed. He wiped his thumb under his eye. “So you’re right. She has to pull through.”

Steve held onto that spark of hope for the coming hours. He showed Bucky to the room that had been prepared for him, but Sam offered to give him a tour of the place, knowing their friend was in a fragile mental state.

Eventually, Vision found him and told him he could enter the infirmary. Bruce had finished treating you. When Steve walked in and saw you, still unconscious, laying on that bed, he choked on more sobs. The bruising on your face was pretty severe. You were hooked up to several monitors, an IV. Supposedly, your injuries were not too extreme, but you had a cracked rib and would need time to heal before you could do any missions or training.

Hours later, Nat found Steve in there, wringing his hands, tears in his eyes. He fiddled with the cuff around his wrist. The playlist you’d made for him played softly from a speaker in the corner of the room. Timeless. As if he wasn’t already crying enough.

“She’s gonna be okay, Steve. Bruce thinks she might wake up soon.” Nat comforted, sitting in the chair next to him. She put a hand on his shoulder, confused by her friend’s sudden mood. Members of the team had been injured before and sure, he checked on them, but he never reacted like this.

“I know, I just…” He shook his head. “I’m worried about her is all. It’s…kinda my fault this happened.”

Nat pressed her lips together, tilting her head. “This seems like a little more than that. You wanna tell me what’s really going on?”

He wanted to hold onto his secret. He did. But he was feeling fragile, vulnerable. It couldn’t hurt to have just one more person on his side. “I can, just…not here.” Steve nodded, leading her out of the room, out of your earshot, if you could even hear him while you were out, but still in sight thanks to the soundproof windows.

Nat’s hands settled on her hips, waiting for an answer. Instead, Steve took the cuff off of his wrist and held it out to her, letting her read the letters that had been etched there for the better part of a century.

Her jaw dropped. She stammered, arms crossing. She met his eyes and when she saw the sadness there, the guilt and longing, her expression softened.

“I should have told her. A long time ago, I should have told her but I can’t. In six months, on her twenty-fifth, she’s going back in time to 1943 to meet me on mine. And it…didn’t seem like she knew until she was already there.”

“So you’ve just been holding it in this whole time?” Natasha asked. “You’ve been in love with her…”

“Since the forties, yeah.” Steve nodded. “My great lost love, as Tony likes to call her when he rags on the band I wear.”

“Does he know?”

“No. Just you. And Bucky.” Steve amended. “He was there when she…”

“Right. Weird.” Natasha let out a long sigh, looking through the window. Her fingers reached for her own cuff. She hesitated, but pulled it off, holding her soulmark out to him. “Fair is fair.”

Steve stared at the letters for a long time, realization slowly filling his eyes. The name on her wrist was none other than James Buchannan Barnes. “Oh my God.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you until all the dust settled, but it just settled, so…” She shrugged, putting the cuff back on. “I’ll figure out how to tell him, too, if he doesn’t know already.”

“Buck’s mark was grayed out back then. We thought…well, we didn’t know what it meant.” Steve said, shaking his head. It was the reason Bucky had dated around so much back then. He’d figured if he just found someone else, his mark would change and he wouldn’t have to be alone. Never could he have guessed what it actually meant, that his soulmate wouldn’t be born for another forty or so years. “And then he lost his arm…”

“Yeah, that part I did know.” She smirked. “Well, I’ll keep an eye on her. Let you know if she says anything you need to hear.”

“She probably thinks my soulmate is dead, too. Everyone else does.”

“Ironic.”

“No kidding.” Steve sighed, gazing longingly through the window.

“We’ll get you through it, Steve. You’ve waited seventy years. Six months is nothing.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna sit with her for a while. I don’t want her to wake up alone.”

He slinked back into the infirmary and sat in the chair beside your bed, watching your steady breaths and listening to the beeping of the heart monitor. Natasha watched him through the window, feeling lighter and heavier at the same time. Nevertheless, she was glad they had talked. At least now, they could be there for each other.

Vol. 2 Here

Tags: @cap-lu20

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers soulmate au #steve rogers imagine #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #marvel #mcu #avengers

[dweemeister]

Instant reactions to the 96th Academy Awards

A rough night for me. But there have been rougher ones before. I imagine most of my comments put me in a very lonely minority, as has been apparent the last few months.

But here goes:

For all intents and purposes, yours truly was on the Killers of the Flower Moon train. An extraordinary crime epic from Scorsese, with astounding craftsmanship and fantastic performance from Lily Gladstone. More than what I previously believed possible, a major studio production went out of its way to make sure that its Indigenous American representation on-screen was as genuine as it could possibly be (still imperfect, as the film acknowledges, but what an effort). And yet, KOTFM goes 0/10. I've never had a favored Best Picture nominee be shut out in such a way before. And I'm not surprised at all by it. It was clear that non-American and non-Canadian audiences didn't get the context to the film (a criticism I understand, given the screenplay) and, in other quarters, folks thought it was too long (I admittedly have a higher tolerance for longer movies) and others have said something akin to the fact that they are getting tired over "racial guilt" movies from America. I'm not in the mood to respond to the last one. I think it deserved better tonight. I particularly think Lily Gladstone deserved better tonight.

Stat upheld: two non-white actresses have never won on the same night in Oscar history. History, in and of itself, was always against Gladstone.

Oppenheimer winning? Fine, I guess. It was my #4 choice of the ten Best Picture nominees. I guess Christopher Nolan was overdue, but I have always been a Nolan skeptic. The film certainly is his most humanistic, and I appreciate that. As for the narrative organization and editing trickery? It mostly serves to take me out of the movie. And I don't think Nolan truly understands what thematic film music can accomplish for his movies. I think RDJ should have had much more competition all season long, but he did not. Most people are gonna say this is the return of the Academy's favorite subgenre... the Great Man Biopic. But in composition and structure, Oppenheimer (and even Maestro) resembles very little of the past Great Man Biopics. It'll be interesting to see how history treats this movie.

I disliked Poor Things. I didn't care for its sense of humor, didn't agree with many folks' opinions that it was a magnum opus of female empowerment. I thought it was incredibly male gaze-y and troublingly sanitized its scenes of sex work. Jerskin Fendrix's score was unlistenable outside the context of the film and distracting within it. But it has four Academy Awards and people love this movie, so my opinion can go to heck?

Well done Da'Vine Joy Randolph for her win as Supporting Actress for The Holdovers. I truly hope this opens up a lot more new opportunities for her going for! Wonderful speech.

And speaking of wonderful speeches, both documentary winners got me very emotional. The Last Repair Shop is on YouTube for American and Canadian viewers, and it's simply wonderful. Perhaps the happiest I was all night long! And then came Mstyslav Chernov's speech after winning for 20 Days in Mariupol. Chernov had, arguably, the speech of the night. And I agree with him. I, too, wish he never had to make his film and that he never won this Oscar. But he did his job to document what happened in Mariupol. And for that he (and the Ukrainians suffering and dying in their war versus Russia) deserves our plaudits and support.

Once more, Hayao Miyazaki cannot be bothered to show up to an awards ceremony. It's hilarious! I would have voted Robot Dreams, but The Boy and the Heron is not a winner to sniff at. Spider-Verse will have one more shot.... whenever the third movie comes out?

Good lord, they selected the worst possible winner in Animated Short with War Is Over!. There's an unwritten rule that the Academy, among the fifteen nominated shorts, must select one which will piss me the hell off. And for the second straight year in Animated Short, they have done exactly that, choosing something akin to a soft drink commercial.

Billie Eilish and Finneas are now the youngest and second-youngest ever to win two Oscars, after Luise Rainer (Best Actress for 1936's The Great Ziegfeld and 1937's The Good Earth). That feels very, very weird. In both cases of this record.

The "I'm Just Ken" performance? Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (Like Ken)??? Busby Berkeley choreography? What do the kids say? Inject that straight into my veins? It was wonderful.

And speaking of nods to cinema history, I'm so glad they led off the stunt performers tribute with Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, and Harold Lloyd. :,)

And congratulations to Godzilla Minus One and its Best Visual Effects win! After seventy years, Godzilla is now an Oscar-winning franchise, and its win percentage is 100%! Simply wonderful!

I think the moral of the story is that the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (AMPAS) has been gradually internationalizing over the last decade. And the results of that were very clear tonight. Does that mean I'm too provincial in my tastes? I don't know. But wins such as Emma Stone's, Anatomy of a Fall, The Boy and the Heron, and Godzilla are demonstrative of that.

I'm glad this season is over. I certainly hope that Killers of the Flower Moon will be looked upon more kindly by history and time, without the bells and whistles of awards campaigning and a fuller understanding of why it was made the way it was.

This month has been fun! But now it's time to see movies again without the lens of awards for a long, long while.

#Oscars #96th Academy Awards #Oppenheimer #Killers of the Flower Moon #Poor Things #The Holdovers #The Last Repair Shop #20 Days in Mariupol #Robot Dreams #The Boy and the Heron #War is Over! #Billie Eilish #Finneas #Godzilla Minus One #Christopher Nolan #Martin Scorsese #Yorgos Lanthimos #Emma Stone #Lily Gladstone #31 Days of Oscar

[ddarker-dreams]

“No…you aren’t a god. So why should you expect me to revere you as one?” (For Scara)

Surrounded by all this blasphemous machinery, its metal cold and unfeeling, it is the familiar warmth of your humanity that serves as a beacon. 

He could very well admonish you for your heresy. Perhaps he should. It’s what comes easiest to the likes of him, the most effort he could ever bother to muster when dealing with others. However, for you to still burn so bright despite his best attempts to extinguish the flame, he wonders if now is the time to try a different approach. 

“Do you feel better now, getting all that out of your system?” 

It’s a genuine inquiry — one meant to foster dialogue rather than shut it off. How fortunate you should feel for his benevolence. How couldn’t he be in a good mood, seeing his many centuries of efforts come together like this? He imagines it must be the same contentment an artist feels upon the eve of their magnum opus’ completion. 

“I’ll never feel better,” your response is sharp enough to cut through steel, “So long as I’m forced to be with you.” 

With some effort, he manages to force himself forward, ignoring the strain from the tubes inserted into his back. His fingers dance up your forearm in a motion that elicits shivers. “Why not make the most of your ‘misfortune’, then? So many would give anything to be in your position right now, blessed with my favor. And yet you throw it away without a second thought.” 

“Power, total authority... these are things the wounded seek since healing the long way takes up too much time. I don’t see what’s so appealing to it.” 

The way you fiercely glare makes him tremble; not with irritation, for once, but with delight. 

By his fingertips, continents could be submerged in maelstroms. Thousands could perish in an instant, insignificant specs, all caught up in a higher calling that they could never fathom. The rush from knowing this is intoxicating, made all the better by your seemingly unbendable will. He doesn’t want to obliterate it no, that’d be too easy, too boring.

He wants it to incline toward him. 

His lips caress the shell of your ear, affectionate, sly. 

"I’m curious how long that pretty little philosophy of yours could last... if I gave you a taste of what you’ve continually rejected without trying.” 

#'wouldst thou like to live deliciously' ass mf #scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere wanderer x reader #wanderer x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x reader #interactions #scaramouche brainrot #my stuff #answered #Anonymous

[iphigeniainaulis]

Background paintings in Ikevamp and why they matter

...even if you are not familiar with art.

Warnings: minor spoilers for all routes, though I tried to keep it as vague as possible

Time to talk about background paintings in Ikemen vampire because…why not?

First, let me warn you that the following is nothing but a theory based on some visual resemblance. While it may occur that Ikemen designers wanted to hide a few Easter eggs, it's also fair to mention that sometimes the sky is blue just because it's Sunday morning, and that’s all. 

Nevertheless, one detail may hint at the former statement being true. And this is because there’s a significant difference in how different paintings are shown in the game. 

Some of them are blurry, overdark or too bright. While we can distinguish some unclear silhouettes, the rest is on our imagination.

For example, it seems that the first picture is the natural landscape (probably, sunset in the forest) as well as the second one with the Ionic style columns being placed in the center of a garden. Still, we’re not sure.

But the thing is it doesn’t matter. The amount of details the viewer is given is too small for us to make any art-historical assumptions. Based on these mere images we can figure out neither the artist who painted them nor the narrative. Therefore, these paintings have only a secondary function of background decorations and proof of demonstration of their owner’s wealth. 

On the contrary, there are paintings that we can easily detach because their creators are too famous to be unfamiliar with. But even within this scope of paintings there is a slight differentiation due to the way they are incorporated in the game design. 

Some of them have been revived by the hands of geniuses who once created them. This is the case of Leonardo’s Study of a woman’s head and Study of Hands

 or Vincent’s Sunflower and the Olive trees

While it’s easy to reduce the meaning behind this design decision to simple hype, I think that it also serves as a visual representation of the suitors' character traits. What is the point of redrawing the painting that was already brought to life a long time ago? For Vincent it means years, for Leonardo - centuries. My guess is that for artists like them it's never enough. Life is too beautiful to be captured once and forever. A woman’s face is never a mystery solved. While for many people it’s okay to achieve a goal and forget about it the exact minute they are done, for geniuses like Leonardo and Vincent it’s always different. You must improve. You have to work further. There is always something new an artist’s eye can capture. That’s why they painted it again, again and again. 

Let's move to another group of paintings. Spotting The Starry Night in Theo’s room is not a surprise because we know that, first of all, they’re brothers with Vincent, and, secondly, Theo is an art dealer.

What deserves to be brought into focus is that this work is regarded as the elder Van Gogh’s magnum opus. Sure, you can argue that the real Theo and Vincent thought little of this painting, calling it “a failure”. To which I reply that, again, this is a game for numerous people across the world, including those who are not familiar with art history. For many of us The Starry Night is viewed as one of the most popular art works, a special work, a valuable one. Therefore, by omitting historical accuracy Ikemen writers and designers try to achieve something more contributing to the plot - they try to evoke certain emotions. Putting the art of such great significance in the room of one of the brothers should be a clear indicator of the amount of respect and love the two of them share. Describing the emotional bond between them is mainly the prerogative of writers. But sometimes game design plays no less if not more meaningful role in the process of us as readers getting familiar with characters. The painting here becomes a subtle part of the plot as it highlights certain prerequisites of their relationship and prepares us for what is going to come next.

The latter is especially relevant to Vlad's route. The female portrait in the pureblood’s room is what takes background paintings in Ikevamp on a fundamentally new level - the level of plot-forming core.

Unlike those paintings I mentioned at the beginning, these ones are no longer a substitute for the room decor. Instead, they serve as a device that pushes the plot forward. It accumulates three major points that are relevant to the plot:

It adds the mystery element for triggering our curiosity. The portrait is ‘faceless’, and even though we all see the resemblance in features, there is this ‘if’ element. What if they decided to go with a classical Dracula plot? Eternal vampire loses his lover and waits for her to be reborn? Is this MC? Why can’t he remember her face?

The portrait itself allows us to get for a second into Vlad’s head and understand his feelings towards the mysterious woman. Vlad drawing her portrait is caused by the act of kindness she showed him. His entire motivation is connected to the single painting. She was the one who he wanted to be with. In order to do so, he had to become strong, to accept his tragic loss and move forward. The portrait serves as a silent reminder about what was his goal and why he chose the path he chose. 

It circulates the narrative. At the beginning, MC faces the challenge of being the third one in the relationship with Vlad and his unknown lover. She questions the identity of that unknown counterpart of hers and secretly wants to learn more about her. By revealing the truth of Vlad’s past and their connection, MC figures out who was the woman in the painting which in some way pushes her to find enough strength for making a certain groundbreaking decision. 

Finally, there is the third group of paintings that possess what I call ‘potential meaning’. These paintings maintain the main features of the two previous groups, namely, vague silhouettes combined with a rather clear narrative that somehow increases the possibility of them being more than a decorative object.

Take a look at the two paintings in Vincent’s room. In comparison to all other paintings these ones differ not only in terms of shape but also in terms of color. The lines seem to be more fluid, and the color palette is dominated by ochreous, blue and black which is typical for East Asian classical ink art. By taking a closer look, you can actually see the vague outlines of the sea and shrouded in mist mountains in the background. Personally to me such landscapes together with a specific composition angle remind of Hokusai’s Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji which can be a great allusion to Van Gogh’s obsession with Japanese prints and their role in his artistic career. 

The huge painting in Comte’s living room has been haunting me for years, I shall admit. It portrays a marine landscape with a single boat chasing the wild waters in the dark or right before the sunrise. When talking about marine art, the first person that comes to my mind is Ivan Aivazovsky. Yet, it is evident that Aivazovsky’s style was pure romanticism with heavy realistic elements, whereas this painting looks like it's more about light and colores rather than clear and precise lines. And also this sun, this strange orange sun..that can be spotted only in Claude Monet's Impression. Sunrise. 

The mansion’s copy is a darker mirrow image of the original work. Nobody knows why Comte chose this painting for the mansion, but isn’t it a bit of irony that the painting that praises France, the country that suffered from the war with Prussia and was on its way to revitalisation, is located in the house that is about to face the battle between the lesser vampires and their haunters or rather the figurative war of two different morals (we are yet to know about it, though)?

Another version is that the painting serves as a metaphoric description of the character. In various routes MC mentions how Comte reminds her of the sun that made manifest, and everything supports this claim to be true, from his golden eyes and hair, to the brightness of the room and..paintings that symbolize the master of the mansion.

Finally, I wouldn't forget about the massive backlash Impressionists had to face at the early stage of the movement’s existence. It was only until the 5th Impressionist exhibition in 1880 that the artists finally got praised by critics. Just a bit more than 10 years before the MC’s appearance. However, we know that the creation of the mansion had taken place before this event. So, my point is that probably Monet’s painting was purchased by the greater vampire during the times when Impressionists were still harshly criticized by the Salon. And if so, the display of the painting that represents the les misérables of the art world speaks so much volume about Comte’s character and devotion to fulfill what he perceives as his noblesse oblige - to support those in need, to help them reveal their talent no matter what social class they belong to. 

The game room’s central painting is another amusing detail as it’s completely out of mood. Playing cards, watching chess games or taking any other light leisure activity with a glass of brandy in your hand, you rarely expect to raze your gaze from the table only to stare at the image of ruins. Yet, this is what we get here - a typical capriccio painting like those of Alessandro Salucci and Leonardo Coccorante.

Capriccio artists dared to do something new in the history of art - they put real archeological signs into fantasy surroundings, sometimes from the same time period that the artists lived in. To an extent, they brought the ancient past and allowed it to live in the future, which is not a bad allusion to the original purpose of the mansion’s creation.  

And here is what we can spot in Shakespeare’s room. At first, I didn't think much about this painting in Will’s bedroom but something felt odd. And then I understood. 

You see, there’s this famous Vincent’s work named Cafe Terrace at Night. The painting is created from the north eastern corner that allows us to see the starry night without facing an obstacle in the form of the cafe's roof. 

But this is how the modern cafe looks from a different perspective. Yellow elongated building with two wide niches that serve both as windows and entrance. 

Do you see it, right? RIGHT?

I headcanon that Vincent was so eager to spoil his new friend with a present that he decided to redraw his favorite work and  give it to the bard. But being an empathetic and observant one, Vincent immediately figured out Will’s admiration of everything unique and rare, so he decided to create a completely new version of his own painting instead of just redrawing it from the same angle as he did with sunflowers. 

Aaand this is what we get in the living room. Random at first sight, the composition of various unrelated pictures actually makes sense. The most evident one is, of course, the image of theater curtains. What else should we expect to see in the manor of the great Bard of Avon? The same curtains, by the way, appear in almost every scene where MC and her suitor are invited to Shakespeare’s play.

Just a small detail, but I think this is one of those rare occasions when we can actually name the place Ikemen writers took inspiration from (apart from, of course, Louvre and the University of Paris). What helps us here is the curtains over which we spot golden metal lambrequin with a cartouche that imitates the image of the sun.

Such a prolonged lambrequin with the sun image (in honor of Louis XIV, the Sun King and also the father of the Paris Opera) in the center actually exists only in one Parisian theater - Opera Garnier, where in 1888 Shakespeare’s  Roméo et Juliette was staged.

Just to make sure, look at the curtains in some of the most popular theaters that existed during the historical period in Ikevamp -  Théâtre du Châtelet or the Opéra-Comique. You won't find a similar one.

Two last possible Easter eggs may be related to the two historical objects that existed during Shakespear’s era. The first one is still connected to the curtains for as you see, there were rumors (modern archeological findings prove them to be true) that the first venue of Shakespeare’s plays was called ‘the Curtain Theatre’.

And the second thing I want to point at is two images of the chair. Honestly, I highly doubt that a person like Will who has an almost narcissistic obsession with expensive staff would put a painting of such low value in his private apartment. But I can understand it, if this is not an image of  some random piece of furniture but the well-known Shakespeare’s Courting Chair, wherein, according to William Henry, ‘the bard was used to sit, during his courtship, with his Anne upon his knee’. 

Anyway, I hope it wasn't too much. Thank you for reading!

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #cybird #ikemen series #ikevamp shakespeare #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp comte #ikevamp vlad #ikevamp theo #ikevamp leonardo #ikemen le comte #ikemen leonardo #ikemen theo #ikemen vincent #ikemen shakespeare #ikemen vlad

[dungeonmalcontent]

Okay folks.

Happy spooky month.

Happy open your ribcage and devour a victim month.

Happy best time of the year.

Happy Grimdark.

Grimdark & Dangerous 50% off for the entire month of October. Just use this link.

Grimdark & Dangerous 50% off for the entire month of October. Just use this link.

Grimdark & Dangerous 50% off for the entire month of October. Just use this link.

Don't know what Grimdark & Dangerous is? You must be new here. It's my magnum opus of 5e homebrew. Normally it costs $19.99. This month, if you use this link, it costs $9.99. I'll give you a second to wipe up that water you just spit out of your mouth using your excellent comedic timing skills you glorious potential Grimdark player.

Reader for the kicker?

This month, Grimdark & Dangerous gets it's first milestone expansion. Currently we are poised at 49 copies sold (as of writing). The next person that buys a copy triggers a file update. After 50 copies sold, all past and future buyers of G&D get an extra G&D expansion book for free as part of buying G&D. Grimdark & Dangerous: The Living Grimoire Expansion is a whole thing in and of itself, and if I were going to put a price on it, that price would be $8.99. On its own. Buy G&D, get the second book free. In fact, the only way to get The Living Grimoire is as a free expansion. This is content I've never shared before or published elsewhere. And if you wait, after this month, the price goes back up to $19.99.

Is this clicking for you yet? In the spirit of the month of October, I am slashing the price of a massive homebrew book in half so you can play as a horrible dark fantasy monster in your Halloween game. Not planning on doing a Halloween oneshot or mini campaign? Do one anyway, the amount of content in this book could write multiple distinct campaign outlines just from mixing and matching descriptive text.

You do not know how much self control is has taken me not to start this post with a Destiel meme, this is that big of a deal.

→ If it wasn't clear already, this is one of the very few posts of mine that you need to reblog.

#d&d #dnd #dungeons and dragons #homebrew #5e #ttrpg #fantasy #writing #grimdark & dangerous #5e dnd #5e homebrew #G&D #grimdark #spooky #spooky month #50% off #discount #dmsguild #sale #i cant believe im putting this much of a diacoung if this book

[blackopals-world]

心靈~Heart and Soul

Chef!femYuu x Trey

(She's back baby!)

Note: Before you comment, I know that the characters mean, mind and spirit.

From the day she first held a knife, she was told the family tradition. "Make a dish of your own. Let no one taste it but you. Perfect it until the day you met your soul mate. It is the dish meant only to be shared by lovers."

Yuu had fallen out of practice but she had good reason to be wary. Thieves are everywhere. Ruggie, Rook, and that damn pie-stealing cat. They would try to steal a bite.

They can't understand any circumstances eat this dish. Her pride and honor were on the line.

This dish was her magnum opus, her greatest dish. She started the recipe when she was 9 and worked to perfect it.

"Make a dish of your own. Let no one taste it but you. Perfect it until the day you met your soul mate. It is the dish meant only to be shared by lovers." Her father said.

"Give the one you love a 心靈 dish. Food made with your heart and soul. It will mean so much more." Her mother said.

She believed in those words to her core. Her parents had that connection and a dish made to symbolize their love.

Father called it the Gleaming Dawn Cheesecake. The most beautiful cake Yuu had ever seen. A deep navy blue mirror glaze with marbled white streaks mimicked the early wind-swept clouds. The silver sugar looked like stars slowly disappearing in the morning light. The upside of the cake was blended with 3 different kinds of cheese each unique and handmade. It had a notable taste of vanilla which was mom's favorite. And the taste gods the taste. It was perfect, the product of years of trial and error for someone father had never met but hoped to see.

Yuu wanted nothing more than to make a cake like that.

She made the Golden Twilight Cake. It mirrored her father's in construction. A beautiful golden yellow that faded into reddish hues like the sunset. Dusted with silver stars. The inside was just as gold with mango and pineapple cheesecake with a hint of strawberry. It was simple and beautiful. One day she dreamed of serving it to her future partner.

But she needed to make sure the recipe was perfect. For that, she needed practice but with crumb snatchers everywhere she needed guards. Ace and Deuce were in charge of keeping the kitchen secured. She "borrowed" the Heartslabyul kitchen for her mission. The boys had been bribed with a different cake.

When she had finished the cakes she let Ace and Deuce know before leaving to take a bathroom break.

Ace and Deuce didn't wait before taking their well-earned cake into the living area. On the way they ran into Trey who was heading to the kitchen.

"What are you two doing?" He asked folding his arms.

"Yuu made us a cake so..." Deuce said holding the cake up Ace nodded in agreement.

"Just make sure to brush after." Trey sighed before leaving.

In the kitchen, he spotted the golden cheesecake. It was sprinkled with crushed honey candies. It looked gorgeous.

Trey remembered that Yuu was baking cakes and knew something this beautiful had to be her's. He went ahead and cut a slice to try. The mirror glaze was immaculate, it was clear and reflective. She must have practiced making mousse for years with a filling so soft. The cake wasn't dense it was airy and clear. It had the taste of fresh citrus fruits but not an overpowering acidic taste. It was amazing. Trey needed the recipe.

When he looked up from his cleaned plate he saw Yuu wide-eyed and mouth agape.

"Trey!!!!" She screamed.

"Yes?!" He yelled back in confusion

"How could you?!" Yuu was distressed as she grabbed the vice warden by the shirt collar.

"I'm sorry? What did I do?" Trey was looking to escape as Yuu ranted.

"You. You weren't supposed to be the first. You idiot!" Yuu suddenly let go as she rubbed her watery eyes.

"Oh my God." A third voice came from the doorway. It was Cater who was staring open mouth."Trey you dog!"

"Don't you dare I didn't and I wouldn't-" He tried to defend but was interrupted.

"But you did! You stole my first. You tasted it. That was a piece of me and you just took it!" Yuu cried.

"You monster!" Cater yelled at Trey believing that Yuu was robbed of her virtue.

"All I did was eat her cake!"Trey explained "No wait. I mean I took a slice of this cheesecake."

"So you admit it!" Yuu said pointing her finger at the thief.

Cater hearing this role his eyes at the pair and left. If Yuu is just being dramatic he is better left out of it. He loved her but when she's this upset it's better to leave before getting caught in the crossfire. He'd be back later though when she's feeling better.

"Trey do you have any idea what you've done?" Yuu demanded. "You just ate the cake for my soulmate."

"Wait whose your soulmate?" Trey asked trying to understand. He had no idea Yuu was seeing someone. She never even told him.

"I don't know, I don't know who that is. But you still ate the cake I've spent my life making for them. The cake is for my future husband only." Yuu crossed her arms as she huffed.

"I'm sorry then. I didn't know forgive me." Trey tried to calm her down like he did with Riddle but to no avail.

"How can I forgive you? It was important to me that my future partner be the first. It was made for them. You'll have to make it up to me." Yuu demand.

"How do I do that?" Trey imagined that she'd make him remake the cake but what she said instead surprised me.

"Well, you are good a baking and you have a good sense of taste. You clearly can hold your own and have a nice personality. Pretty handsome too." Yuu mumbled to herself as she made a mental note. "What did you think of the cake? Did you like it?"

"Um, yeah. It was the best cake I've ever had and you make the best food in general." Trey said nervously scratching the back of his neck.

"Then it's settled. You'll marry me!" Yuu said clapping her hands together to punctuate her words.

"What. WHAT?" Trey panicked as Yuu grabbed his hand." You're joking right?"

"I don't joke Trey. You ate my cake, you marry me. Or do you want to disgrace me? You'll robe me of one of my life's goals if you refuse." Yuu glared at Trey with daggers in her eyes as if to say 'You're with me or against me'.

"No, of course not. I like you but you're willing to just give up a chance to find your real soulmate." Trey felt his cheek turn red as Riddle's hair.

"I don't care, I like a lot of things about you. As long as we want to I'm sure we can make a great couple." Yuu put her hands on her hips. "Life is short. We can't afford to be shy."

Despite being strong-armed into this relationship Trey agreed. He wanted to ask Yuu out but was too unsure about it, but now they were engaged apparently. Something Yuu wasn't shy about and didn't hide it from anyone.

Every time she was asked about their relationship she openly talked about what she loved about Trey as Trey tried to cover his face.

"I love how shy he gets too." She gushed as she kissed his forehead.

"Yuu, please!" He whined in response.

They spent a lot of time cooking together which made them look like the perfect couple as they moved around each other. She'd hold out a spoon to him to taste test and he'd smiled and reassure her of how good it was.

Trey actually grew smug when he realized that no one else could try her golden cake. It was his favorite and knowing it was only for him felt amazing. He didn't need to share it or her with anyone no matter how mush she cooked for others.

They were together for years but as graduation neared Yuu had something on her mind.

One evening she clutched his hand in hers and told him what whe wanted.

"I want us to keep doing this. I know you're going to take care of your family's bakery but I want to open a restaurant or café. I want us to do it together as a family business. I mean it. I want us to stay together." Yuu said blushing and looking at their intertwined hands and Trey's golden eyes. She liked those eyes, they were like honey candy, gold glaze, or freshly baked sweet buns.

"Is that way your way of proposing again? After all these years." Trey asked lifting her chin to focus on him.

"I realize I might have been too bold," Yuu said looking away, her face flushed.

Trey got down on one knee and pulled out a velvet box. Yuu felt her heart stop when he opened the box and revealed a ring. It was a silver band topped with an amber stone.

"I like how bold you are." Trey kissed her lips before pulling away. "But I wanted to ask you something too."

"It's not a super expensive stone but I saw it and thought of you. If you'll have me, I want to make our engagement more offical. At least you'll have a ring to prove it." Trey smiled at his beloved as Yuu cried tears of joy.

She hugged him close. She didn't need a ring but she gladly took it. They were a perfect match.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland yuu #twisted wonderland x reader #twst yuu #twst mc #trey clover x reader #trey clover #twst trey #ace trappola #deuce spade #twisted wonderland deuce #twst ace #cater diamond #twst cater #chef!yuu

[burningvelvet]

Here are two of the most hilariously scalding letters from the 1800s that I have ever read. One is by the famous writer Lord Byron, and the other is by his daughter Ada Lovelace, the famous mathematician. Both are written to their respective business partners: Byron to his publisher John Murray, and Lovelace to her colleague Charles Babbage. It’s interesting to note how strikingly similar these letters are despite the fact that Ada and her father never knew each other, as her parents separated shortly after her birth and he died abroad when she was eight. Both were rebellious, fond of gambling, prone to tumultuous affairs, and both hated Lady Byron. These similarities may help to explain why her final wish was to be buried next to him instead of her family.

Lord Byron in a Letter to his publisher John Murray about the printing of his magnum opus, the poem Don Juan:

“Ra. August 31st. 1821.

Dear Sir

I have received the Juans – which are printed so carelessly especially the 5th. Canto – as to be disgraceful to me — & not creditable to you.

It really must be gone over again with the Manuscript – the errors are so gross – words added – changed – so as to make cacophony & nonsense. — You have been careless of this poem because some of your Synod don’t approve of it – but I tell you – it will be long before you see any thing half so good as poetry or writing. — Upon what principle have you omitted the note on Bacon & Voltaire? and one of the concluding stanzas sent as an addition? because it ended I suppose – with –

‘And do not link two virtuous souls for life Into that moral Centaur man & wife?’

Now I must say once for all – that I will not permit any human being to take such liberties with my writings – because I am absent. —

I desire the omissions to be replaced (except the stanza on Semiramis) particularly the stanza upon the Turkish marriages – and I request that the whole be carefully gone over with the M.S.S. –

I never saw such stuff as is printed – Gulleyaz – instead of Gulbeyaz &c. Are you aware that Gulbeyaz is a real name – and the other nonsense? – I copied the Cantos out carefully – so that there is no excuse – as the Printer reads or at least prints the M.S.S. of the plays without error. —

If you have no feeling for your own reputation pray have some little for mine. — I have read over the poem carefully – and I tell you it is poetry – Your little envious knot of parson-poets may say what they please — time will show that I am not in this instance mistaken. — Desire my friend Hobhouse to correct the press especially of the last Canto from the Manuscript – as it is – it is enough to drive one out of one’s senses – to see the infernal torture of words from the original. – For instance the line

‘And pair their rhymes as Venus yokes her doves’

Is printed

‘and praise their rhymes &c. –

also ‘precarious’ for ‘precocious’ – and this line. stanza 133.

‘And this strong extreme effect – to tire no longer’

Now do turn to the Manuscript – & see – if I ever made such a line – it is not verse. —

No wonder the poem should fail – (which however it wont you will see) with such things allowed to creep about it. – – Replace what is omitted – – & correct what is so shamefully misprinted, – and let the poem have fair play – – and I fear nothing. — I see in the last two Numbers of the Quarterly – a strong itching to assail me (see the review of the “Etonian”) let it – and see if they shan’t have enough of it. – – I don’t allude to Gifford – who has always been my friend – & whom I do not consider as responsible for the articles written by others. – But if I do not give Mr. Milman – Mr. Southey – & others of the crew something that shall occupy their dream! I am not what I was – that is all

I have not begun with the Quarterers – but let them look to it. – As for Milman (you well know I have not been unfair to his poetry ever) but I have lately had some information of his critical proceedings in the Quarterly which may bring that on him which he will be sorry for. – I happen to know that of him – Which would annihilate him – when he pretends to preach morality – not that he is immoral – because he isn’t – having in early life been once too much so. – And dares he set up for a preacher? let him go and be priest to Cybele. – why let

You will publish the plays – when ready — I am in such a humour about this printing of D.J. so inaccurately – that I must close this.

yrs. [scrawl]

P.S. I presume that you have not lost the stanza to which I allude? it was sent afterwards look over my letters – & find it. The Notes you can’t have lost – you acknowledged them – they included eight or little corrections of Bacon’s mistakes in the apothegms. – And now I ask once more if such liberties taken in a man’s absence – are fair or praise-worthy? – As for you you have no opinions of your own – & never had – but are blown about by the last thing said to you no matter by whom.”

[Separate page]

“Dear Sir

The enclosed letter is written in bad humour – but not without provocation. -

However – let it (that is the bad humour) go for little – but I must request your serious attention to the abuses of the printer which ought never to have been permitted. – You forget that all the fools in London (the chief purchasers of your publications) will condemn in me the stupidity of your printer. — For instance in the Notes to Canto fifth – ‘the Adriatic shore of the Bosphorus – instead of the Asiatic!! – All this may seem little to you – so fine a gentleman with your ministerial connections – but it is serious to me – who am thousands of miles off & have no opportunity of not proving myself the fool yr. printer makes me – except your pleasure & leisure forsooth.

The Gods prosper you — & forgive you, for I wont.

B.”

Ada Lovelace in a letter to her work partner Charles Babbage, who she helped invent the computer with:

“Tuesday Afternoon [1 August 1843] Ockham

. . . Note B has plagued me to death; altho' I have made but little alteration in it. Such alterations as there are however, happen to have been very tiresome & to have demanded minute consideration & very nice adjustments.

It is a very excellent Note.

I wish you were as accurate, & as much to be relied on, as I am myself. You might often save me much trouble, if you were; whereas you in reality add to my trouble not infrequently; and there is at any rate always the anxiety of doubting if you will not get me into a scrape; even when you don't.

By the way, I hope you do not take upon yourself to alter any of my corrections.

I must beg you not. They all have some very sufficient reason. And you have made a pretty mess & confusion in one or two places (which I will show you sometime), where you have ventured in my M.S's, to insert or alter a phrase or word; & have utterly muddled the sense.

I could not conceive at first in one or two places what had happened to my sentences; tho' I soon saw they were patchwork & not my own; and found it so, on referring to the M.S. I fear you will think this a very cross letter. Never mind. I am a good little thing, after all. Yours ever

A. A. L.

Later. P. S. It is impossible to send you anything but Notes B and C; (& this partly owing to some wrong references & blunderations of your own). — Do not be afraid, for I will work like the Devil early tomorrow morning. —“

[Separate Page]

“Wednesday, 4 o'clock [2 August 1843] Ockham

After working almost incessantly, since 7 o'clock this morning, until I am forced to give in from sheer inability to apply longer, I find only the sheet I enclose is quite completed. I shall however send a servant up tomorrow morning by a ten o' clock train, to take you all the rest; so that you will have it almost as soon as this letter.

You cannot conceive the trouble I have had with the trigonometrical Note E. — In fact no one but me, I really believe, would have doggedly stuck to it, as I have been doing, in all wearing minutiae.

I am very uneasy at not hearing from you, as I have expected to do both yesterday & today; & fear some disaster or other. I hope all of Note G is forthcoming; & I also hope you have received all my communications safely.

I think you had better do the second revise of the translation for me. If you will compare it carefully with my first revise, it can hardly be necessary I think for me to go over it again.

I suppose I ought to take it for granted that no news is good news; but I am in a sad fidget. — Yours ever

A. L.”

#‘no wonder the poem should fail’ ‘i fear nothing’ #‘i am in such a humour’ ‘the stupidity of your printer’ #‘the gods prosper u & forgive u - for i wont’ #‘all the fools in london (the chief purchasers of your publications)’ #‘i wish u were as accurate and to be relied upon as myself’ #‘you in reality add to my trouble not infrequently’ #‘​they were patchwork & not my own’ #literature #english literature #dark academia #poetry #romanticism #lord byron #history #writing #ada lovelace #computer history #computer science history #math history #literary history #letters #funny #1800s #victorian #regency #drama #historical #humour #lit #correspondence

[sarahs-secrets2]

Heart First (Phillip Graves x Reader)࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

More of me pushing the cowboy country graves agenda, I guess this is an AU? idk tho if I'm using that correctly. This is my magnum opus, I have never written something as detailed as this

based on Heartfirst by Kelsea Ballerini

fem! (no use of Y/N)

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: soso much fluff, swearing, pet names, tad cheesy

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

The cafe was busy with regulars pushing in and out of doors grabbing their coffees before heading to work. You waited off to the side for your drink as the smell of fresh coffee saturated the air. 

“Iced latte to-go” the barista shouted out your order, sliding it across the counter. Before you could even grab it, someone else beat you to it. The man grabbed the coffee and popped a straw into the lid. 

“Excuse me, sorry” you approached the blonde man, “I think that’s my drink”, you pointed to the coffee sitting comfortably in his hands. 

“Sorry about that doll, but I’m in a bit of a rush and I ordered the exact same thing, so go ‘head and you can have mine when it comes out, yeah?”, he winked as he headed out of the door. 

“What the hell?” your hands dropped to your sides with a sigh as the blonde disappeared onto the street. Another 5 minutes passed before the barista finally called out another iced latte allowing you to head home to visit your parents. 

It had been years since you had visited, life had gotten busy and you hadn't gotten a chance to get home. Your parents had recently gotten a small little farm in Texas, some horses, and land. A smile crept across your face as you pulled up the gravel driveway, your parents waiting on the porch waving at you.

You jumped out of the car, grabbing your bags, “Mom, Dad, I missed you guys,” setting your bags down and pulling them both in for a hug. 

“Oh, honey, we missed you,” your mom squeezed you extra tight,

“Thought you’d never come home dear”, your dad chuckled as he rubbed the top of your head.

“Sorry, it took me so long to get down here, been busy”, your parents ushered you into the house, taking your bags for you, “How’s the new farm been doing?”

“Oh good, we hired this handsome boy to help with the horses, your dad is getting old he can't be out there every day you know,"

“I am not getting old, just tired that’s all,"

“Who’s the boy?” interjecting to your parents' bickering

“Oh what’s his name," your mom patted your dad’s arm trying to recall the name

“Phillip Graves dear,”

“Yes, Graves, what an odd name,”

“Well, he’s military maybe that’s why honey,”

“I forgot about that, what did he do again?”

“Mom- is he here now?”

“I think so honey, he got here earlier, he’s been so helpful in the barn," your mom gushed, “Go ahead and go introduce yourself,”

“Okay then, I’ll be right back,” you headed out the back door, down the path leading toward the barn. 

Entering the barn you saw the back of a blonde, cowboy hat sitting atop his head. He was tending to one of the horses, brushing through its mane.

“You must be Phillip Graves,"

He turned around to face you, and it hit you. He was the same blonde from the coffee shop, the same one who stole your coffee. 

“You-”

“I remember you,” he pointed a finger in your direction, “Girl from the coffee shop, you ever get that latte?”

“Yeah, no thanks to you," faking a frown and crossing your arms as you looked at him

“Oh don't be like that doll," he smiled and tipped his hat at you. He slowly began to saunter across the barn to you. “So what do I owe the pleasure? You follow me here all the way from the coffee shop?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, cowboy, I’m visiting my parents,”

“Parents? Your folks own this place?”

“Don’t look so shocked there," you began to walk towards him, meeting in the center of the barn.

“Didn’t expect a girl like you to have parents who had a farm that’s all,” he stuffed his hands in his front pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. He sported blue jeans that were covered in light dust from the horses. On top, he wore a tight black t-shirt that displayed his arms perfectly. The thing you weren't expecting was how handsome he was, he had a chiseled face, blue eyes, fluffy blonde hair that peeked out under the tan cowboy hat, and a scar that stretched down his cheek.

“A girl like me huh?”, you laughed to yourself

“I'm surprised you're in a barn, don't want you to break a nail do we, princess?”

“Oh c’mon now, Phillip was it? I would hate to see you lose this lovely job with my parents,”

“Now we don't need to jump to that now do we? Let me take you on a ride yeah? Prove to me you aren't a city girl,”

“I’ll take you up on that offer,"

Phillip wandered over towards the horse he was tending earlier, slipping on its reins and getting the saddle prepared. He led the horse out of the stable and outside the barn, “You comin’ doll?”, you jogged quickly over towards Graves and the horse. “Go ‘head hop on up,” he steadied the horse.

“No way in hell, you’re gonna have to help me up,"

“Okay city girl, don’t worry, how bout I pull you up instead?” before you could answer he hoisted himself up on the horse, and stuck his hand out for you. “I gotcha don’t worry”, grabbing his hand you pulled yourself up as he held on tightly making sure you didn't fall

“That wasn't so hard now was it '' he laughed as he looked back at you. 

“Whatever Graves,"

“You ready city girl?”, you nodded, “You better hold on back there, don't want you fallin’ off, what would I tell your folks if I lost ya?”

“Enough talking cowboy let’s go, "your hands wrapped around his waist as he clicked his tongue signaling the horse to go. The sudden movement caused you to tighten your grip around his waist, pulling yourself closer to the blonde. He led the horse through the field behind the barn, maneuvering through creeks and faded trails in the woods.

“Where are we going?” 

“Don’t you worry I got it handled, you just focus on holdin’ on back there," he clicked his tongue again causing the horse to speed up. 

After a few more minutes of riding around, Phillip slowed the horse at the top of a hill. He eventually hopped down, then held his hand out for you, helping you off the horse. 

“You did well city girl, surprised me," he nudged your shoulder as the pair of you walked up the hill, Phillip guiding the horse with the reins in one hand. 

“Glad I could surprise you, cowboy, I’m still pissed about that coffee though,”

“How about this,” he stopped looking at you, “Next one's on me,”

“I’d like that," you smiled back at him before looking around. The sun had begun to set, casting a golden hue around you and the blonde. “Where are we, Phillip?”

“Just this lookout point I found one day, thought I’d take ya out here. They don’t have views like this in the city do they?”

“You’re right, they don't”, you sighed as you walked toward the cliff edge, “What brought you to Texas, Phillip Graves?” you sat on the ground as he tied up the horse to a tree branch. 

“Always been a Texas boy, just found my way back not too long ago”, he walked over and sat down next to you, “I used to be military, CEO of Shadow Company,”

“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking,”

“Ahh, I think that's a story for another time but it was time for me to go,” he sighed looking out into the distance before turning to face you, “Why’d you leave Texas?”

“A new life, new job, new scenery,” you leaned back on your hands, taking in the view.

“Understandable, nothin’ beats this though huh?” the sun had set completely and the moon and stars now littered the sky. He copied your movement leaning back on his hands, placing his hand on top of yours. “You want to come back to mine?”

The voice in your head telling you to slow down and be realistic but tonight you put your heart first. 

“I would like that yeah,” he grabbed your hand helping you up and back on the horse as the two of you rode to his house. 

“My parents won't mind about the horse?”

“I got you with me don't I? And to answer that no, as long as she’s back in the mornin’ they don’t mind”, he laughed as he threw you a wink. Luckily Phillip had his own stables where the house stayed for the night.

Graves unlocked the front door letting you in first, “Make yourself at home, you need anythin’ doll? A water?”

“No I’m good thank you,” you smiled sweetly, “I hate to damper the night but I am so beyond tired from traveling all day and some crazy guy stole my coffee, so-,”

“What kinda crazy person steals a coffee? And we can head to bed, don’t worry ‘bout it”, he led you through the hallway to the master bedroom. “You need pajamas don’t ya?”

“Yes please oh my god, I wasn't prepared to sleep in jeans,”

Phillip laughed as he dug through a drawer pulling out a cotton t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, “Hope these work alright”, he smiled handing them to you, “Bathroom is through those doors so you can change,”

“Thank you,” you returned the smile before walking into the bathroom and slipping on the shirt and sweats, both fitting comfortably oversized. When you walked back into the bedroom Phillip was shirtless and in his boxers, his form of pajamas. 

“Think my clothes look better on you than me doll”,  he laughed as you posed in the new outfit you dawned. Phillips walked towards the bed pulling back the covers before slipping in. 

“Come on in”, he pulled back the sheets on the other side of the bed, allowing you to jump in next to him. His hand wrapped around your waist pulling you closer to him as he lay behind you. 

“You aren't too bad city girl, you know that?”

“You aren't too bad yourself cowboy,” a small blush crept across your cheeks, lucky for you it was dark and he wouldn't be able to see. 

“Goodnight darlin’, I’ll treat you to that coffee in the mornin’,”

“Goodnight Phillip Graves,” as your eyes closed you could only think about how it would feel to wake up in his t-shirt in the morning. 

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

disclaimer I didn't proofread this, I will in the morning when I'm not sleep-deprived, also ignore the rushed ending I got sleepy

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