#▋ also open to creating something super au

[ascnsion]

▋   plots please! gimme a remy and/or lester and/or frank.  𝙁𝙍𝙊𝙈   @goreverine​ .  .  . ┖ send 'plots please’  ┒ 

➊ With Remy  —  I mean, what can these two not get up to? Beside a glorious pissing contest and their connections to (and emotions that come with) Laura, I think it would be interesting to see the Thieves Guild and League of Assassins get involved with Daken. That would be a quick set up for them, and Remy would be like oh, merde, what’s going on with dis asshole. Another idea would be loosely centered around Gambit 2012 where Daken is the key, or one of the moving pieces, to freeing the artifact that’s burrowing through his body. . before it kills him. An even looser idea, having a thread set in the reality Wanda creates in House of M because I can’t resist a criminal (yet not evil) Remy crossing paths with Daken in a world we can basically construct. Basically, mixing the desire to make one another bleed with working together would be a+.

➋  With Lester  —  Hello trying to murder each other in the most gruesome ways. I say we are open to explore any point in time during their history, buuut their brief stink in Osborn’s Avengers would be extremely fun. Just two sadists enjoying their new titles, sharing a communal space with one another, and yeah, murdering a bunch of innocent civilians. I just really want to see them fuck each other up for no good reason. Delving into some forced alliance or memory loss would be a great deal of fun as well.

➌  With Frank  —  So, while my depiction of Frank will primarily be Netflix MCU based, I have no issue mashing that Frank with the goings on of the 616 realm. Frank would definitely want to chop off Daken’s head and shove it up his  —— buuut we can do other things, too. First thing that pops out at me is experimentation, both mutant and human. It’s a pretty common thing in the comics even outside the realm of the Weapon X program, and I think it has potential if they’re both thrown into the mix. Super soldiers, Weapon X, Red Skull . . I don’t know, but there’s some weird, fucked up shit that can be used against both of them, either triggering some of Daken’s past trauma along with Frank being pulled into some new, genetically modified trauma. Alternatively . . . and weirdly, what if it just comes down to Frank hating Daken but hating Bullseye more, and being like . . hey, how about we kill this mother fucker.

#‹ here's a tag for this › #goreverine #▋ I have too many ideas & partial ideas & brain mush #▋ also open to creating something super au

[ravengards-rogue]

i thought of you so often.

arthur morgan x reader.

✧ tags : fem!reader (gendered language, explicit use of she/her in reference to reader), children / planning on children, generally sappiness, fluff, au where nothing bad happens to arthur hdskjsdkfhsj.

✧ wc : 2.4k (???)

✧ a/n : arthur morgan.... save me arthur morgan....also not a super original thought but i can't Stop thinking about it.

✧ synopsis : a collection of love letters, all unfinished, tucked somewhere you aren't meant to find them. oh, arthur loves you more than you knew.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

You try to keep out of Arthur's belongings.

He's owed some privacy, for one. More than that, you've never felt any reason to look into it. Arthur isn't a man of many words, though you catch moments of his introspection should you pry. He isn't stoic, neither. And above all things, he's kind. Really truly kind in a way that makes him different from other men.

You don't have any complaints about him is what you mean. Unlike the men you've loved before, there are no short-comings of Arthur that would drive you to wanting to investigate his own personal things. Especially something so personal like his journals, prior or present.

On top of that, you were there with him through everything. You were part of the gang and stayed by him when it all fell apart. It was towards the end of that that Arthur came to you near frenzied, told you his plans, his thoughts. Confided in you and no less than begged to go with him where he ran.

You loved Arthur enough to stay, and so things ended - and you ran. There isn't much his journal could tell that you couldn't surmise on your own.

It's been years now, and you've long since left that life. You live with Arthur quietly, peaceful in the moments with a garden and kitty sweet as sugar.

It's a good life. An honest, quiet one sometimes to the point of being boring. You rarely miss the action, though occasionally you'll take up a bounty just to feel alive and make some money.

Mostly though, you live as unassuming folk. No bloodshed, no wardens, no gunslinging.

Been talk between you both about having a baby, recently. Serious talk. You've made some money between here and there, and you've got a good life. You've traveled too. But it gets a little lonely, and you don't really get your fill with just Jack when John and Abi are ways away.

Before anything like that, though - you need to clear some space. Empty out some belongings and things collecting dust. Living in one place for too long creates all sorts of mess, you find. When Arthur is home to help, he does - but he's been busy lately figuring something out with Charles. Some business venture related to ranching that you know nothing about so far. They'll tell you when its ready.

Usually when you're tidying, you keep to just your things, or your shared things - but Arthur has lived more life than you. It shows in that big closet space filled with nick-knacks he has yet to toss.

You'd mentioned it to him not too long ago and he'd given you permission to go through them.

(A kiss to your forehead from chapped lips and hands holding your waist, Arthur hums in acknowledgement as you ask his permission.

"Ain't nothing I gotta hide from you. Do whatever you need.)

But like you said - you try to keep your nose out of his business if it's not necessary for you to be in it in anyway.

You weren't trying to look through his things, really. You started cleaning, worked your way to that last box. Up on a shelf in his closet, a little too high for you to reach easily. You made a misstep and dropped the damn thing. It barely missed your head as the whole thing fell open, and out came journals and papers and photographs.

You've always known Arthur to be sentimental, so none of it has been particularly surprising. A photo of wolves and him on a horse, the picture from John and Abigail's engagement. Some other scraps of sentimental value.

And then there was a journal. Not Arthur's journal that he's always using, but another you've never seen before. You know Arthur journals, seen the thing plenty though you never look unless he shows you first.

A journal with a dark brown stained leather binding, fallen open and your name scrawled out in pencil lead at the top of it.

The curiosity got the better of you, okay? Not your damn fault.

So you're thinking on it.

The fabric of your skirt is pooled out underneath you as you hold the thing in your hands, sitting down on the ground surrounded by things. You've stowed away everything else that fell out from the box after ensuring it was intact, including Arthur's journals. Everything with the exception of the one you're holding.

Some guilt eats at you. You don't wanna upset him potentially by having looked. Even if he gave you permission, looking in the damn thing is a little different. But your name was there so clearly, and well - you didn't think he wrote about you. Apart from here and there, maybe.

You hold the book out in front of you with a sigh, looking fondly at his name ingrained in the leather. You press your forehead against it with, resigning yourself completely.

"Lord forgive my pryin'," You mumble, hoping it's enough to absolve you.

Your heart feels funny as you let your fingers trace over the hard edge of the front cover, one eye shut as you start to open it slow.

The first few pages are nothing special.

A page outlining who the journal belongs to and when it was started, and some doodles of yarrow and oleander. The pages after that filled with mundane entries. About people he met or things he saw, all endearing to you. The corners of your lips tug up slightly.

You really love this man helplessly.

You flip through a few more pages, many of them blank before writing starts to appear again. Little by little, you find passages. You look to the dates up at the corner (though not all of them have one) and trace the timeline. This is from all the way back in Horseshoe Overlook.

It feels like ages ago now.

You look at a page with no date, and reading the writing in it. There's doodles of flowers and trees along the bottom of the page. The words are easy enough to make out - because Arthur has the most unusually beautiful handwriting.

There's some entries about you. At first, they all include your name in some context. Mentioned in the same way Arthur might mention Hosea or Abigail. The further you go, the less you see it. The more you become her and she.

It's a trend. The longer you read, the less there is about anyone else. Just you and all your silly idiosyncrasies tucked between pages. Something lovestruck and foolish lights its match in you.

Saw a body hanging at the tracks at Valentine. A gruesome sight. I told her about it and she laughed. Asked me to take her to see it. A strange woman, by all accounts.

You feel yourself smile a little as you continue to flip through the pages.

She joined me riding into town today. Said she had some business to attend but would not tell me any details. After, she came with me to purchase a new gun. I engraved a snake into it's handle, per her request.

Another few pages littered with drawings of delicate berries and waterfalls before you stumble across more writing. The more you flip, the longer the passages become you.

You can't tear your eyes away.

Rained today. Nothing too terrible or worth mentioning, except that she nearly caught a cold playing in it. I brought her coffee to keep her warm, but could not scold her further upon seeing her delight.

Another passage, this time written with messier hand writing. A coffee stain splatters on the white of the page.

Your heart tugs on itself. Swells about a thousand sizes. To think he wrote so much of your time together between these pages.

You read and read and read - and each passage is a little more mundane at the last. Some pages go on in vivid detail, but others are so short you aren't sure what to make of the fact he wrote them at all. As if such little details were important enough to keep in mind.

I picked a flower for her. I thought it would suit her taste. It was white with delicate petals. I did not know the name.

She wore it in her hair this evening. I find I can't stop grinning.

One passage on the next few pages, longer than the rest, catches your eye. From later in your time together, written when you were in Leymone. Near Scarlett Meadows and before the mess in Saint Denis.

After Arthur had been kidnapped.

I have gone on and on about the business with Colm O'Driscoll in many entries before this one. Yet, I find it difficult to forget. Many times I have come close to death, and still no experience lingers on my mind quite like this one. Everyone has done their best to look after me. For that I am grateful, though I do not care for being looked after. What use am I like this, I wonder? Perhaps, I should simply be grateful to be alive and in one piece, if a little uglier than I was. Alongside Miss Grimshaw and Miss Tilly, she has been by my side while I recovered. Such a carefree woman and yet I have seen her cry and weep over me countless times in the last few weeks alone. The decent man in me is apologetic for causing sorrow. Perhaps, it is the outlaw in me that feels some strange relief or satisfaction. Her fussing does not give me any grief. If anything, I find myself all the more endeared. Such a decent woman does not belong in a place like this. I hope she is able to go somewhere far away and live peacefully. I am not so shameless to want anything more. The time together we have spent, I will make sure to cherish.

Something painful and pitiful tugs at your heart. Even when Arthur admitted his feelings for you, he had started it on a similar tangent. You tell him often that you're the one who feels out of bounds with him. That a man as decent and as honest as him often feels like too much for you to have so easily.

A tear slips from your eye and you laugh at your own sentimentality, wiping it away before it can splatter onto the pages.

The further you read, the more sporadic entries become. You find that there are pages filled with sketches of you, but many of them are scratched out or half erased - like he did not find them good enough. Of your side profile, of your hands, of you pointing at a target with a gun. You feel a strange feeling of love wash over you.

Instead of concrete thoughts, you're met with Arthur's abstract. Subtle complexities and studies. There's honest tenderness in the way he sketches you and the words he chooses to caption each with. Lighter, thinner lines. Smaller doodles like stray daydreams caught onto a page.

You've never doubted Arthur in his love for you, quiet man he is - but it proves to overwhelm when presented to you in such a way.

You get to back pages. There, you're finally met with more writing. Except, instead of journal entries, there's the start of letters. You find your name at the top of the page.

Over and over. Love letters, all unfinished or scrapped. Written over and over and over, but not completed. There's tens of them at least. You've never received a love letter from Arthur before, though it's nothing you fault him for.

Now you're almost glad. You like this much better.

My darling girl My muse The better half of me, I must find some way to tell you all of what I think of you. It seems no words do it justice, I'm afraid. Still, it is in my best interest to try.

Damn that man.

When you find yourself starting to weep, you don't fight the feeling. You merely shut the book closed and set it in your lap before crying into your hands.

Such overwhelmingly happy tears. You feel off balance. If the whole world turned on its head this very minute, you're unsure you'd notice. What a decent, honest man you've come to love. What a tender one.

In the middle of your crying, you don't hear the door open or close. Nor do you hear Arthur's heavy footfall until he's in the doorway, with a voice worried half to death.

"Sweetheart, what in the hell?"

You turn your head to look at him, watching his eyes widen at your tear stained face. You clamber to your feet hurriedly, book dropping onto the ground next to you as you throw yourself at him as soon as you can.

Arthur is a steady enough man not to stumble when you do, though you can feel his apprehension. Eventually, he circles his arms around your waist. His hugs are strong. Bout strong as him and then some. An arm wrapped around your waist, the other crossed over your back all around your shoulder. Full pressure as he squeezes you tight, patting the back of your head.

"I leave you alone for a few hours. What has gotten into you, little lady?"

You pull back and and look at him, wet lashes and all, before leaning up to kiss him. Arthur meets your lips chastely at first before making a noise of surprise as you kiss him further. You use both hands to grab his face as you do, scruff scratching against your skin. His lips are soft, welcoming. He melts into the touch, so easily - blue eyes lovestruck as you pull away.

"You know I love you, don't you Arthur? More than anyone in this crazy world we live in,"

His face softens visibly. He smiles at you, touching his head to yours.

"Somehow, I do. Though, I'm wonderin' what the hell brought this on."

You tuck your face against his chest, feeling his laughter reverb through you at the way you cling to him so fervently. You sniffle as you talk.

"Found your journal. The one about me,"

He goes stiff, then silent. When you look up again, he's blushing red. He pinches his brow.

"Lord, I'd forgotten all about it,"

You shake your head.

"Ain't nothing for you to be embarrassed about. You are so wonderful,"

He pouts at you. Your heart swells. "You ain't helping with the embarrassment."

You hold him further. Hug him so tight, worried he'll disappear if you don't.

"I love you, Arthur."

"You already told me once, didn'tcha?"

"And I'll tell you one thousand times over," You emphasize, pouting at him. "Really. I love you,"

"I love you too sweetheart," His hand cups your face, thumb brushing along your waterline. "Don't cry no more. Spoils that pretty face."

"I'll try but I don't know if it's all out of me,"

Arthur laughs, pressing a kiss against your hairline. "Guess I'll just have to wipe your tears."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

#zero.writes #rogues love letters #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fluff #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 fluff #red dead redemption x reader #this is so lovesick and silly i feel so miserable #I AM A JOHN GIRL. BUT. well that deadbeat father and bastard isnt gonna write you love letters like arthur im afraid

[thelunarsystemwrites]

Inviting other artists!

So I've just made a superhero AU for utmv. Right? Well, I really only wanted to design one guy, Lust. Sooo I'm opening the AU (WHICH LITERALLY HAS NO LORE YET SO NO WORRIES) for others to partake in!

Here's like, the basic lay out.

Choose one Sans AU to turn into superhero/villain. Please refrain from using a Sans someone else claimed.

Make them into a superhero/villain themed after something specific. (Example: A plant themed superhero, or even a cactus one!)

Keep powers balanced with weaknesses, please make them relate to their theme!

Give them a civilian identity! You don't have to draw this one, but make sure to mention their civil job and name!

Give them a Superhero/Villain name as well!

Wait, supervillain?

OH YES! You can choose the mortal alignment of your claimed Sans! Super hero, villain, neutral, vigilante? Just pick whatever you want!

Of course headcanons are welcome, it's Canon to YOUR design! Make them trans, gay, autistic, whatever! (Human designs are allowed too!)

Wait.. what do I (the artist reading this) Even get out of doing this?

Well I'll tell you! For one, its a fun artist challenge where you personalize and create a whole new hero/Villain to your preferences!

You also get to imagine their lore, and incorporate their personality into the story! They'd all be canon part of the AU. (Note: if someone claimed a sans first and you did it anyways, yours wouldn't be Canon unless issues occurred with the OG/they gave you permission.)

I dunno, I just wanna make an AU with a ton of people, ya know? I think it's be fun for us to work together on this.

CLAIMED LIST:

Lust: Hero. Complete. By @thelunarsystemwrites.

Reaper: Vigilante. Completed by @solusminds.

Outer: Vigilante. Complete by @dzasterdumpterfire

Ink: Retired Hero. Complete by @lix88888

Error: Supervillain. Complete by @its-paperd

Dust: Claimed by @billygoat26

Farmer: Claimed by @absurdumsid

Cross: Claimed by @weirdest-worlds

Geno: Claimed by @eldritchcats

Shattered: Claimed by @genderfluidyellowocto

Nightmare: Supervillain. Completed by @analexthatexists

Killer: Claimed by @a-menacetosociety

Dream (and core frisk): Claimed by @thenocturnenarrator

Blue: Superhero, complete by @createbellatheartist

Fell: Supervillain, complete @underrrtaleee-freakk

Quantum: Superhero. Completed by @nashdoesstuff (Also made an OC for the AU, Dreamshade! Superhero.)

Horror: Neutral Evil. Completed by @it-came-from-mount-ebott

Ccino: Claimed by @some-aroace-chaos

Fresh: Claimed by @nightmareishomophobic

Die sans: Claimed by @dustsansm1

Bill: Supervillain. Completed by @endless-emptyness (OC Nanno made by sane person!)

Epic: Claimed by @dtdrawz

Fatal error: Claimed by @spookyboris2

Swan: Claimed by @glitching-moon

Sci: Claimed by @joonebugg

Dance: Claimed by @dv-reblogs

Swad: Claimed by @shinanigans-art

Littletale: Claimed by @somehhuuuhh

Possession: Claimed by @b0nerific-individual

Alter: Claimed by @annabel184

Paperjam: Vigilante. Completed by @papple

Decadent society: Supervillain. Complete by @supper122

Green Sans: Claimed by @xxcross-is-a-helicopterxx

Roulette: Claimed by @ant1quarian

On the claimed list, if you claim a Sans (By commenting or reblogging saying "Dibs Blank!" Or "Can I do blank?" Etc! I'll add it on the List saying: "Sans: Claimed by User"

Once it's made, please tag me so I can see! Then I'll update it to "Sans: Moral alignment. By User." And link it on this post! [Please only claim one, we want enough to go around! However you can claim variations! So one person could make dream, another could make shattered!]

[Note I do not claim any ownership over your designs for the AU, nor will I use your design w/o permission.]

With all that said! Anyone interested? [And hey, if you're not interested? It's okay to just not join. Or ignore this!]

Asks! (Questions regarding the AU!)

Can we make our own lore woth other characters?

Secondary claims?

Only two grabs?

Can we have OCs?

Can we use our own AUs?

#Superhero AU #undertale au #alternate universe #undertale alternate timeline #Utmv #underlust #undertale #Aus #Art #If anyone wants to join in just lemme know! #Utmv superhero au

[kingofbodyrolls]

Jungkook fic recs 2023

In honor of Jungkook’s birthday, I want to share my ultimate favorite Jungkook fanfictions, that I’ve read this year 💜I want to thank each and every writer on this list for creating such wonderful stories and art - you are truly amazing ✨ All the fics on this list hold a dear place in my heart 🥹

❗Most of these fics are smutty as hell, so minors dni.❗ 

If you read anything on this list and you like it, please leave a comment to the writer or reblog the original fic’s post 💜And if you want more fic recs you can follow me to stay updated 🙂

BTS fic rec index → May | Jun | Jul | Aug | Sep (💜)(knj) | Oct (pjm) | Nov (*) | Dec (ksj)(kth) |

Emoji meaning → angst = 🌩️, smut = 🥵, fluff = 🥰, comedy = 😂. 

⭐Two point Five: pt1, pt2, pt3 [series] by @bratkook // jjk x f.reader // handyman!jk, s2f2l // 🥵🥰

📝 Who would have thought booking a handyman from an app would lead to this. sure, you wish he’d mount you instead of just your television, but you could totally be friends. Right?

🗨️ This is also one of my all time favorites! 💎There is just something incredibly hot about handyman JK 🥵 It is so good, juicy, smutty and there’s comedy in it too! Please don’t be sleeping on this one.

⭐Caught Me by @jeongi // jjk x f.reader // roommate!au, e2l // 🥵😂

📝 You hate your temporary roommate, jungkook and it doesn’t help that he’s been catching you at the most inconvenient of times.

🗨️ This is a fucking MASTERPIECE 💖 I love the banter and comedy, how JK gets on readers nerves 😂 I love absolutely every fucking thing about this and don’t get me started on the smut 🔥🔥 🔥

⭐The Forgotten Spaces [completed series] by @oddinary4bts // jjk x reader // college!au, dancer!au + e2l // 🌩️🥵🥰

📝 You’ve been dancing on the same dance crew since your teenage years, and you finally have an important role in it. It feels like life is taunting you when your rival comes back after disappearing for a year, ready to tease you every chance he gets. Will the teasing turn into more, or are you going to take him down with you?

🗨️ This is truly a masterpiece! The writing is perfection and the characters have so much soul, dimension, hurt and love. It is exceptional 👏🏾♥️ you just have to read this gem 💎

⭐McD*ckin by @jinned // jjk x f.reader // slice of life, fast food worker!jk, customer!reader, s2l // 🥵😂

📝 “So, if I’m so predictable,” you tease, running your finger along his clothed chest, “what am I going to do next?”

🗨️ I’d like to order a McChicken please 🙋🏾‍♀️🥵💦 this was funny, and actually made me laugh like a freak at some points 🤣 also the second hand embarrassment 😳🙈 It really cheered me up. I really liked the ordering menu when reader arrived 🙈🤭 also the ending, which was unexpected for me, but I quite liked it because it wasn’t “super happy and lovey dovey” like most of the stories I read, but still open 😊

⭐The Wedding Planners by @gukyi // jjk x f.reader // e2l, wedding!au // 🥰🥵🌩️

📝 Jeon Jungkook is three things: cocky, terrible, and your worst enemy. Then your best friend Hoseok gets engaged to the love of his life, and suddenly Jeon Jungkook is four things: cocky, terrible, your worst enemy, and the man you will be spending the next seven months with in order to plan your best friend’s wedding. And then, as if your life couldn’t get any shittier, you make the poor decision of sleeping with him on the first day of the job.

⭐In the Dark by @jksangelic // jjk x pjm x f.reader // threesome, f2l, mxm  // 🥵😂

📝 “I can’t get a signal on my phone, the car is dead, and I’m fairly certain we are out of matches.”

⭐Oh My God, They Were (Quarantined) Roommates 💯 by @ot7always // jjk x f.reader // college!au, roommates!au // 🥰🥵

📝 What do you do when you’re quarantined for months on end with Jeon Jungkook - S tier cuddler, workout robot, and thirst trap extraordinaire? Fuck him, you guess.

⭐Anpanman by @honeymoonjin // jjk x f.reader // bf2l // 🥵😂🥰

📝 Your best friend jungkook finally convinces you to seek therapy for your failing mental health. the only catch? the one therapist that’s within your price range is an alternative marriage counsellor, jung hoseok, and the only way jungkook managed to get you an appointment was by saying the two of you were married. will couples counselling actually be useful for your wellbeing, or will something that runs much deeper rise to the surface instead?

⭐The Boy with Galaxies in His Eyes by @oddinary4bts // jjk x reader // idol!au + fwb2l // 🌩️🥵🥰

📝 You had never thought the night sky could be found in someone’s eyes. That is, until you met Jeon Jungkook and his gravity pulled you in. Will he crush you with the galaxies in his eyes, or will you learn to explore his worlds and make them yours?

🗨️ It is a long one, but damn is it worth it! It will take you for the very best rollercoaster ride of your life. So if you haven’t read this yet, what are you honestly doing with your life? 

Borahae and happy birthday Kookie 💜 🥳 🎂 

#bts fic recs #bts fic #bts fics #bts imagine #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts smut #namjoon x reader #happy birthday jungkook #jungkook scenarios #jungkook bts #bts jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x oc #bts jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts x you #bts x reader smut #bts x y/n #jjk fic #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jungkook fic recs

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Dark Shades of Innocence Lost Part 1: Introductions✨

Series Masterlist

A/N: Here is my new club owner Joel series! Thank you to the lovely @janaispunk for making me this beautiful mood board ❤️ Joel Miller is the biggest menace in this one. I wanted to somehow mix a little 50 Shades of Grey but also create something unique and super hot, so hope you enjoy 50 Shades of pleasure dom Joel! Comments and reblogs are most appreciated. Let me know your thoughts on this one! As always, I LOVE writing and hope you enjoy my stories as much as I love writing and sharing them with you 💕

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY MDNI)

Word Count: 9.7k

Pairing: Joel x fem! reader

Tags: No outbreak au, thigh riding, Joel’s dirty mouth, flirting, pining, fingering

Summary: After your friends drag you out to Club Inferno on a Friday night, you meet an unexpected man with dark brown eyes. That man is Joel Miller, who turns out to be the owner of the club. The menace that will turn your life upside down. After not dating for a couple of years, Joel finds out and strikes up a proposition for you. Keep coming back and he’ll make sure you experience pleasure like you’ve never felt before.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

It’s Friday night and instead of sitting down with a cold glass of white wine and a book on the couch, you’re currently standing in a dress that’s too tight and heels so high you think you’ll fall over at any minute. The tight black dress clings to your body like a suction cup, and the slit in the side of your left thigh is almost showing too much skin the more you move around.

You spent the last hour sitting at your glowing vanity, curling your hair into long spirals and putting on smokey dark eyeshadow that makes your eyes stand out and deep red lipstick that sits matted against your lips. This isn’t your usual. You like to stay in after a long week at the library, not go clubbing till 2:00am. You’re not an extrovert like all your friends are, so this is a once in a while thing you even do.

You take one more look at yourself in the mirror and sigh heavily. This will be good for you. You need to socialize. You need to get back into the dating field, but that honestly just sounds like a nightmare right now. Dating in general just sucks. It’s like no man knows how to even properly treat a woman nowadays. Your last boyfriend was a complete nightmare. Tall, lanky, sports obsessed, demanded blowjobs without even offering to go down on you once. That’s how all the guys had been in the past, and you were honestly just over it. Fuck men.

Before you can get all worked up about past boyfriends, you head to your apartment door when you hear a sharp knock and giddy laughter on the other side. That meant the girls were here. Here goes nothing. When you open the door, Brianna and Taylor lose it when they see what you’re wearing.

“Oh my God, look at you!” Brianna screams as Taylor twirls you around to get a good look at you. Brianna’s soft brown eyes and long blonde curls look you over from head to toe. “You’re such a babe! And that dress? God, it makes your ass look so good and that slit in your dress?! You are definitely going to get laid tonight,” she shrieks as she gives you a quick hug hello.

“Bri, stop!” you laugh, shaking your head no. “I am not getting laid tonight. I’m so over guys,” you cringe as you roll your eyes.

“Oh, please. All the men are going to be looking at you tonight, you little slut!” Taylor smirks as her green eyes sparkle like emeralds when she looks at your short dress. Her pinned up red hair sits perfectly in a messy bun atop her head, her white heels digging into the wooden floor as she circles you.

“No, guys. Really, I don’t need to try to find someone tonight. I’m only going out because you’re forcing me to,” you complain with a huff.

“Sure, babe. That vibrator that sits in your nightstand isn’t gonna get you anywhere fast. You need to be laid properly. So we’re gonna find you a man tonight if it’s the last thing we do,” Brianna says with a beam of a bright smile.

“Whatever, let’s just go. I need a drink,” you whine as they pull you out of the comfort of your small apartment and whisk you out the door, shoving you inside the White Cadillac that sits idle on the corner of the curb.

You slump in the front passenger seat as soon as Brianna drives off, entering the busy traffic of Austin as the city lights flash brightly outside the window. You sigh and lean on the edge of the window as Taylor Swift’s “Karma” blasts through the speakers. Taylor and Brianna sing along loudly, but you sit mute with your arms crossed across your chest.

“Oh, cheer up, babe! You’re supposed to be having fun tonight, not brooding in the corner like a pent up prisoner,” Brianna laughs as she hits your arm lightly.

“I’d be in a better mood if I was curled up on my couch with a good book,” you groan as you stifle out another sigh.

Taylor leans over the back of the front seat and takes a good look at you. “Don’t be such a buzzkill. You will have fun tonight whether you like it or not! This club is to die for. I know it just opened last year, but seriously it’s the hottest club in Austin,” she says excitedly with a big grin zipped across her contoured face.

“What’s the name of this club again?” you ask with furrowed eyebrows.

“Club Inferno,” Taylor says with a smirk. “Inferno is right. It’s hot as fuck in there, and the men that go are super sexy,” she swoons as she sits back against her leather seat.

“Club Inferno, huh? Wonder how the owner came up with a name like that,” you ask curiously as you focus your sights on the busy sidewalks that are littered with dressed up couples and groups that look like they’re about to head to the club as well.

“I don’t know, babe. Maybe you can ask the owner yourself,” Brianna smirks in the front seat.

“Who’s the owner?” you ask, trying not to sound too intrigued.

“I don’t know. Doesn’t say online, but I hear rumors that he’s ridiculously hot. Like I’m talking about an 11/10 hot,” she smirks as she pulls into a parking spot a few feet from the lit up club.

“Sounds like someone I wouldn’t be interested in. He already sounds arrogant and like all the other men I’ve dated,” you spit out, a snarl hanging on your lips.

“Oh, just shut up and have some fun tonight, please. You’re killing my vibes,” she says as she rolls her eyes and puts the car in park.

“Sorry, sorry. I’ll try to have fun,” you sigh as you step out of the car onto the hard concrete, pulling your dress down so it doesn’t ride up and expose too much skin.

“Good, now let’s go drink and dance!” Brianna and Taylor scream together. You just laugh and follow them to the front of the club, stopping at the metallic black double doors as you get your IDs checked. Once they give them back, you step into the club and gasp at the sight.

The inside is absolutely gigantic. The club sits two stories high with a shimmering disco ball hanging in the middle of the crowded dance floor. The walls are pitch black with red glowing signs all around that say “Club Inferno”. The sign that sits behind the bar is also glowing red and says “Sinners Welcome”. The bar has a large mirror splayed across the wall with bottles of beer and liquor stacked high against it. The bar top has a sleek dark wooden hue to it and the bar stools are made of black leather material.

There’s dark boothes all around that are marked off for VIP lounges, private parties, or reservations made prior. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling as they make shiny patterns on the dark hardwood floors. An open lounge area sits in the opposite corner of the bar where leather couches and small glass tables sit scattered around. You look away when you see a cozy couple making out in a corner of one of the couches and try not to roll your eyes.

When you turn towards the dance floor, you see the glow of fluorescent blue and red flashing lights mix in with the glittering disco ball as the Dj spins some tracks on a large display against the wall. The dance floor is crowded, maybe two-hundred people at the least stand grinding up on each other as Rhianna blasts through the speakers. Two platforms with poles attached to the center sit in the back corners of the room for anyone to use at their leisure.

Behind the bar sits two long, dark hallways with various rooms attached down the shadowed corners of the hallway. A spiral staircase sits next to the second hall and leads up to the second floor. From here you can’t see what all is upstairs, but it looks like another bar sits up there and maybe some pool tables from what you can see. This club wasn’t anything like you expected it to be. You thought it’d be small and maybe less crowded. Boy, were you wrong.

“Don’t you love it in here?!” Taylor asks excitedly as she twirls around in her short forest green strapless dress and pulls you to the dance floor.

“It’s a lot bigger than I imagined it to be,” you shout out loudly against the beat of the music. “Tay, we just got here. Can’t we sit down?” you whine as Brianna pulls you into the middle of the raging crowd.

“Not until after a couple of dances,” Taylor smiles as she pushes her back against a man in a suit that grinds up against his blonde girlfriend. You groan but go along with them.

“Loosen up, hun. The night’s just started. We’ll get some alcohol in you, and you’ll be just fine,” Brianna beams as she grabs a few Jell-O shots from the bartender that makes her away across the busy dance floor. “Drink up!” she yells as she hands you a container of red liquid.

“Fine,” you groan as you pop the shot into your mouth and instantly taste cherry and vodka mixed together. It slides down your throat easily, and you put the empty vial on the bartender’s tray. Taylor and Brianna both cheer after you take the shot and start grinding up against each other as the music switches over to a Beyoncé song.

You decide to try to enjoy yourself and sway your hips, getting into the song as the dance floor rocks back and forth. You keep your focus on the shimmering disco ball and watch the way the sparkling glass reflects off the walls. You keep your eyes from staying too much in the crowd and focus on your friends as they lift their arms and shimmy their hips to the beat.

After a couple of long songs, they agree to take a break and get some drinks. You and Taylor find an empty couch and sit down while Brianna goes up to the bar and orders a round of LITs for the table. After a few minutes, she returns with the glasses of alcohol and passes them out. You take a big gulp and feel the remnants of alcohol run down your throat with a slight burning sensation staying stagnant in your mouth.

“So, see any cute guys you might be interested in?” Taylor asks as she looks around the crowded club, focusing her eyes on a tall man with short blonde hair and sharp blue eyes. “What about that one, huh? He’s kinda cute,” she says with a flirtatious smile as she eyes him.

You scrunch your nose up and shake your head. “No, Taylor. Not that one. Maybe you can go talk to him. He looks like your type,” you laugh as you watch her eye him up and down. You take another sip of your drink and set it on the glass table as the condensation drips down the glass.

Brianna smirks at you and looks from the bar, back to you a few times. “Bri, what? I know that look. That’s a plotting face you always make when you’re up to no good.”

She just smiles wider. “You see that man at the bar? That one on the left corner with the white collared button-up shirt?” She points him out and you flick your eyes over in that direction nonchalantly.

The man she points out is sitting in one of the barstools and sips casually on a cold glass of what looks to be whiskey. You slowly drag your eyes over him, taking in the way his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows to expose thick veins that spider all the way down his arms to end in massive hands. His biceps bulge against the cotton material every time he flexes and moves to grab his cold glass of alcohol. His dark blue jeans press up against muscular thighs and a fancy black watch sits latched onto his left wrist. His hair is dark and streaked with grey lines as thick tousled curls sit wildly atop his head. A dark, patchy beard shadows his sculpted, sharp jawlines.

Your eyes move over his greying locks again slowly, taking in the way a couple curls fall against his forehead subtly. His curls look soft to the touch, you almost wonder what it’d be like to run your fingers through his hair or maybe drag your nails against that salt and pepper scruff…

You jolt out of your daydream as his eyes linger over to yours, calmly taking another drink of whiskey as his eyes stay locked on yours. You pull your eyes away and look back at Brianna. “What about him?” you ask with a shaky breath.

“The man hasn’t stopped looking at you since you walked into the club,” she giggles as you go wide-eyed.

“Oh, he has not. Please, he’s got to be looking at you or Taylor,” you reply as she looks back up at the bar.

“I don’t think so, honey,” Taylor laughs as she knocks you in the shoulder with her arm. “He’s looking straight at you.”

You look back up and freeze. His dark eyes find yours again as a small smirk appears on the edge of his mouth, curling into something that dares you to challenge his gaze. You suck in a breath and look back down, grabbing your drink as you try to calm your nerves down. Calm down, calm down. He’s just a guy. He’s probably not even interested in anything you have to say.

“You’re going to go talk to him,” Brianna smiles deviously as she narrows her eyes and smirks up at you.

“What?!” you choke out, the liquid flowing down your windpipes uncomfortably. “No, no way. I can’t.”

“Yes, you are,” Taylor encourages you. “He’s totally gorgeous. Like come on. He’s clearly at least in his upper forties. Older, probably has a lot of money, dresses nicely, and I see no wedding ring on him,” she smirks, eyes darkening as she gets up and pulls you along for the ride.

“No, Tay. Please, I can’t. I’m not…”

She cuts you off as Brianna joins in, pulling you towards the bar as your feet try to stay planted to the spot you’re in. “You’re not what? Look at you, you’re hot. Don’t waste it by being boring. Go talk to him,” she encourages as she pulls you further, halfway to the bar now as you see him in the corner of your vision eyeing you.

“No, guys. Come on. I’m too… I can’t…”

Brianna stops you from saying anything else. “Look, you're going to go talk to him, and he’s going to buy you a drink, and then me and Tay are going to go back out there and dance. And you’re going to go up there and flirt with him and twirl your hair and get his number,” she says seriously as she drags you to the edge of the bar.

“But I… he’s too… I can’t…” you stutter out.

“Go on, babe. You can do it.” Brianna and Taylor give you a hard push and shove you against the edge of the bar, only a few bar stools away from the man with the dark eyes. “Have fun,” Brianna whispers in your ear with a laugh as she grabs Taylor’s hand and leads her away from the bar, leaving you all alone with your heart pounding uncontrollably in your chest.

You take a seat on one of the empty black bar stools and rest your arms on the sleek bar top, looking over the menu nervously as you flip through the pages of drinks. You don’t look up, afraid that if you do you’ll lock eyes again with the handsome stranger. No more dating, no more dating, no more dating.

“Is this seat taken?” A deep Southern voice fills your ears as you look up and find the man with dark eyes looking down at you.

Fuck.

“Ummm no,” you answer shyly as you tuck a curl behind your ear, cursing your friends for pushing you into doing this.

“Mind if I sit?” he asks with a raised brow. You nod and he pushes back the empty bar stool, lightly brushing his leg against yours as a chill runs down your spine at the contact.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks as he looks you over slowly, making your eyes widen at the action.

“Oh, sure,” you respond meekly, putting the drink menu down before you rip it in half from the way you’re anxiously flipping through the pages.

“So, what’s your drink of choice?”

You muster up an ounce of courage and fire back a question without thinking. “What do you think my drink of choice is?” you ask flirtatiously, batting your eyelashes up at him as if to win him over. Your adrenaline spikes in your body, and it’s as if the alcohol turned you into another girl.

What the fuck is wrong with you? This isn’t like you. You don’t flirt with men at clubs, especially gorgeous men like him. But he’s so hot, you can’t resist. Fuck.

He chuckles at the question and drags his eyes nice and slow over your body, clenching his jaw up as he concentrates on you. You can see the calculations and assumptions he’s making swirl and tick in his mind. He’ll never guess right. He’s just like any other guy. They all get it wrong, always.

His eyes flick back up to your face as a gentle smile spreads over his mouth, forming dimples that press deep into his cheeks.

Fuck, he’s pretty.

“Hmmm, let me see,” he starts slow, his words slipping like melted butter off his tongue. “You don’t seem like the type to drink hard liquor. Fireball? Definitely not. Tequila? Can’t see it. But hmmm, let me guess…” He takes another good look at you and stares into your eyes. Those warm brown eyes searing through you as you melt into them.

God, those eyes. Those fucking brown doe eyes.

“Rum? Maybe. Vodka? Most likely. Whiskey… maybe a whiskey girl. But you…” He leans in closer, and you can smell the cologne dripping off his skin. Can practically taste the whiskey that encompasses his lips. Can almost feel how his mouth would taste with his tongue gliding against yours.

You focus on deep breaths as he rests his large hand right next to yours, barely brushing the tips of his fingers against yours as goosebumps start to crawl slowly up your arm. He laughs lightly as he forms a guess with a Southern drawl dripping off his tongue. “Malibu tonic? Guessin’ you’re a fruity cocktail kind of girl.”

“How did you know that’s one of my favorite drinks?” you ask with a wide-eyed stare.

“Just an assumption, sweetheart. I’m pretty good at readin’ people. Especially ones as pretty as yourself,” he smirks, turning toward the bar to call over one of the bartenders.

Sweetheart? Pretty? Oh fuck, you’re in trouble.

As soon as the blonde bartender comes over, he wastes no time and gives her your drink orders. “One Malibu tonic and one Jack Daniel’s Tennessee Whiskey on the rocks. Thanks, Hailey,” he smiles softly and nods as she smiles back and turns away, getting the drinks prepared in a flash.

Hailey? Of course he knows her by name. He probably knows every fucking girl in this obscene club by name.

You frown, a tinge of jealousy hitting the back of your closed up throat. But why are you jealous? You don’t care about this man, don’t care if he even buys you a drink. You don’t date, and there’s a reason you don’t anymore. But that’s a dark place you won’t go tonight or ever again.

He notices the shift in your mood as you sit up straighter and clench your jaw into place, focusing on not losing your temper over a simple thing as a name.

“Y’alright there? Look a little tense,” he asks, hovering his thick fingers closer to your hand as you pull away from him.

“I’m fine,” you bite back a little too harshly. He doesn’t respond, only nods. He knows you’re not fine, but he doesn’t press on it.

When the bartender comes over to drop off your drinks, you can’t help but notice the small silver name tag that’s latched on to the front of her black low-cut tank top. The name Hailey is in sparkly letters, and you feel shame instantly cover your face.

You’re a fucking idiot.

You take a sip of the fruity liquid and let it slide down the back of your throat, along with the bitterness and jealousy that was there seconds ago. You don’t even know his name, and you’re already acting jealous? Jesus. You’re in way over your head.

He takes a swig of his amber colored drink and swallows, a gentle smile returning to his handsome face. He sticks out his hand and you take it slowly, feeling the back of his calloused fingers as they burn into your hand, simmering like a hot fire as it runs through your veins. It’s firm, strong, powerful. And you know. You know you’re in trouble.

“The name’s Joel. What’s yours, sweetheart?” His hand lingers maybe a little too long in your hold, but you don’t shake him off. You just let him drop it when he’s ready, feeling the now cold hand as you flex your fingers into a fist in your lap, trying to remember exactly how his hand fit perfectly in yours.

You tell him your name, and it floats like a siren’s song off his lips, a trance like lull that sucks you in. “That’s a pretty name, darlin’. You come around here much? Haven’t seen you before. Think I would’ve remembered a pretty face like yours,” he says with a smirk, his coffee colored eyes focused on you. You have to work hard to find words before you lose all control of your voice.

Pretty? Oh, he’s laying it on thick.

“No, but sounds like you’re a usual here. You come here a lot or something?” you ask, eyes fixed on the way he holds his crystal glass with a strong grasp.

“Somethin’ like that,” he chuckles, a look like he knows something you don’t displaying on the lines of his forehead.

“Of course you do. Not me, this is my first time here,” you say as you shift uncomfortably in your bar stool.

“And? How d’you like it?” he asks with questions lingering in his bright eyes.

“Honestly? It’s okay. It’s a little loud for my taste, but it’s decent,” you say as you take another sip of your fruity concoction.

“Oh, just decent? Tell me more of your thoughts,” he says as he puts an elbow on the bar top and leans his cheek on his knuckles, waiting for you to answer.

You shake your head. “Nah, you don’t want to hear my thoughts. They’re… well, they’re…” You lose yours words to the blaring music that stirs across the crowded dance floor.

“Enlighten me,” he says with a husky voice while he stirs the amber liquid, eyes fixed intently on you.

You gulp at the sharp eyesight, your knees knocking against the smooth bar walls anxiously. “Well, there’s no food here for starters. I’d kill for some chicken strips right now,” you groan, salivating at the thought of food right now.

He laughs in response. “Sweetheart, this is a club. This ain’t a cheap bar with finger foods.”

You snap back at him. “Well, it’d be a hell of a lot better if the club had some.”

His eyebrows raise in defense, holding out a hand to calm you down. “Alright, calm down, tiger. Gonna start seeing claws in a second,” he laughs as you sigh and nod your head. “What else?” he asks.

“What else what?” you question as you swirl your drink around mindlessly.

“What else would you change about the club?” His eyebrows knit together like he’s concentrating on what you have to say.

When was the last time a guy ever listened to you? Whatever, he asked so you’ll tell him exactly what you think.

“The signs are all red. It’d look better if there were also pink ones. Gives some light contrast and a more subtle look,” you shrug, sipping on more of the tasty alcohol in your hands.

“Hmmm, might not be a bad idea. Anything else?” His gaze stays on you as he throws back a gulp of whiskey, sitting the crystal glass back on the edge of the flat bar top.

“Why do you care? I���m just rambling,” you say with a convicted tone.

“I might’ve talked to the owner a couple of times here and there. Might give him some suggestions next time I see him,” he smirks, making you roll your eyes at his perfect dimples.

God, why does he have to be so pretty.

“Okay then,” you say with a smug look. “The alcohol menu could use some more options, other than tons of beers. Make it more friendly for cocktails and mixed drinks. And the VIP booths? Maybe save some for general guests to reserve when they get here. The Dj? He needs to mix up the tunes, these songs get old pretty quick. Throw some throwbacks in there, play some more upbeat rock songs. And for rooms? Maybe open up some private rooms for guests who want to chill in a quieter area where they can think. It’s fucking loud in here,” you say sternly as you cross your leg over your knee and give him a devious smirk, feeling like you just let him have it.

All he does is shake his head and let out a low whistle, a small chuckle rumbling from deep within his chest. “You’re a little firecracker, ain’t ya? Shit. You sure got a lot to pick apart. Don’t ya?”

You just shrug nonchalantly. “It’s just what I’d do differently. Not that my opinion matters.”

“Sure it does, sweetheart. I’ll be sure to give him the rundown when I see him.” He winks at you, and you feel a weird flutter in your stomach that you shouldn’t even be feeling. You chase it down with another drink of alcohol, letting the burn fill the void.

“This isn’t your scene I’m guessin’?” he asks carefully, honey eyes drawing back to yours again patiently.

“No, it’s really not,” you shake your head defeatedly. “My friends dragged me out tonight, said I needed to get out of the house and let loose. I had a really long week and I was looking forward to staying in with a glass of wine, but no. Just had to come out,” you say with a huff, your cheeks growing crimson with the sudden awareness of your bad attitude and complaining.

Christ. Just calm the fuck down. You’re going to scare him off.

“What is your scene then?” he asks, ignoring your whole meltdown about coming out in the first place.

“What?” you ask with wide eyes, surprised he wants to continue the conversation with your depressing ass.

“What’s your scene, angel?”

Angel. Oh.

“Oh, uh. I… I like more quiet environments. Like bookstores. There’s nothing more I like than strolling through a bookstore with an iced coffee in my hand, just smelling the fresh pages of the books,” you smile, thinking of the last time you went to the local bookstore and fawned over the latest edition of The Odyssey. Classics were some of your favorites.

“Books, huh? What’s your favorite?” he asks, general curiosity piqued as he continues staring at you, fixedly.

You eye him suspiciously but continue. “Pride and Prejudice,” you say quietly, eyes averting from his momentarily.

“Ahh, a classic. We are all fools in love,” he quotes almost perfectly, his Southern accent making every word sound like sweet poetry to your ears.

Your eyes grow wider, shock hitting your system. “You know Jane Austen?” you ask incredibly, your hand gripping your cup uncomfortably tight.

“Mhm. Read most of her books,” he says without a hint of surprise in his voice.

He reads classic books. Holy shit.

“Wow. That’s uh-” you lose your concentration, mouth gawking open at him. He reaches out and closes your jaw for you, his calloused fingers burning your skin the more he touches you.

“Don’t act too surprised. Some men like to read the classics too,” he smirks as he drops his hand, ending the contact way too soon. “What else?”

“Huh?” you ask, still shocked at his last words.

“What else do ya like?” His weight shifts just a tad and his knee skims yours as goosebumps form over your skin, the contact almost too much for you.

“Why?” you ask, almost self conscious of yourself. There’s way more interesting girls here than you, more up to his liking probably. You’re boring while all these other girls know how to party. You’re an introvert, you shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be talking to him.

“Why what?” he asks with furrowed eyebrows, the lines above his forehead wrinkling at the notion as one of his tousled curls fall into his face. You almost want to push it back for him, almost.

“Why the interest in me? I’m not... I’m…”

“You’re not what?” he almost barks out as his eyes get a shade darker. It’s a little intimidating and makes you sit up straighter, aware of all the sulking you’ve done this evening. You’re just making it worse for yourself. You’re going to scare him off.

“I’m not like all these other girls in here. I’m… I’m shy, reserved. I don’t even come close to some of these women in here. I’m…”

He cuts you off as he cups your chin with his large hand, syrupy eyes clouding your vision as he stares at you intently. It makes your heart speed up frantically as blood rushes through your ears uncontrollably.

“That’s the point, sweetheart. You’re not like the rest of them. You’re interesting. You caught my attention. And you’re stunning,” he says smoothly as his eyes drop down the length of you, taking in the large slit in your tight black dress and trailing back up to your eyes, a breath catching deep in your throat.

He drops his hand from your chin and turns back to his glass of whiskey, pouring another shot down his throat as he slides it back against the sleek bar top, running a hand through his wild curls.

God, you want to run your hands through those curls, want to feel just how soft and silky they really are…

A rough voice pulls you from your distant thoughts as a tall, bulky man dressed in all black slides up beside you in the next bar stool, ogling your body as he fans his eyes over you in a disgusting manner. You want to roll your eyes and ignore him already.

“Aren’t you a sexy thing? Let me buy you a drink. What’ll it be? Tequila, beer on tap?” he asks with a snide smirk on his face.

“I've got her well taken care of. Thanks for the offer, though. But she won’t be needing that drink,” he faintly growls under his breath, placing his large hand on your leg as he curls his calloused fingers around your inner thigh slowly. You about jump from the warm contact and how it instantly eases you in a weird way. You barely know the man, why did this feel… safe?

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t realize she was with anyone,” he huffs, eyeing Joel’s hand on your bare thigh as it burns through your skin like a scalding stove.

He’s just a man. He’s just a man. Get it together. You’re not doing this tonight.

“Think she’s in good hands,” Joel breathes, his voice deep and gruff as his eyes narrow at the man. He turns with a nod and walks in the opposite direction, going to find his next victim.

Joel keeps his thick fingers pressed to your thigh for a few more seconds then releases his hand, the same time you let go of the breath you were holding. “Uhh, thanks,” you say awkwardly, leaning against the bar top to look him in the eyes again. In those pretty brown doe eyes that light up tingling feelings that you want to keep at bay.

No hookups. None.

“No problem, sweetheart,” he says as he turns to look at you again, eyes lingering on more unanswered questions.

“So, you seein’ anyone?” he asks as he drags his thumb over the rim of his glass cup, slowly collecting condensation on the tip of his thumb. The sight makes you gulp.

“No,” you say quietly, shaking your head slowly.

“You’re tellin’ me that a girl as beautiful as you isn’t seein’ anyone?” he asks in disbelief, a small disbelieving laugh leaving his lips.

“Well, I’m not,” you shrug, eyes flicking back and forth between the thumb that languidly glides around the edge of the glass and his honey eyes that stay focused on you. It’s intimidating, to say the least.

“Why not?” he asks curiously, an eyebrow raising in question as he waits for your answer. You don’t really have a good one for him, not really wanting to go into the traumatic ex boyfriends you had been with before.

“I dunno. Just haven’t found the right one, I guess. Been busy. And besides, I’m not…” You stop mid sentence, staring at Joel’s scowl on his face. What was he so mad about now? What had you said?

“Don’t give me that answer. Sweetheart, the entire bar is staring at you.” You look behind you and gasp. He’s right. All the men gathered around the counter are trailing their eyes to you, eyes ogling you from a distance, hoping to get a chance to talk to you.

You swing your bar stool back around and stop as your knees lock with his, your eyes focusing on him. Only him. “As for me, I’ve had my eyes on you the minute you stepped through those doors. You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, sweetheart. A real angel, at best,” coffee eyes honing in on you like a hawk stalking its prey. Suddenly you can’t hear the noisy music, can’t hear the clicking of the glasses behind you. It’s just you and Joel, in your own little bubble as the words crash down on you like a siren’s song.

Gorgeous. Sweetheart. You’re in trouble.

“Oh,” is all you can gasp out. He’s charming, almost too charming. And you hate him for it. Hate him for how he’s making you feel. Like you’re special, like you mean something. It makes you sick, so fucking sick.

You take a slow drink of your alcohol, hoping the taste will cool you off from the heat he just gave you. “Tell me, angel. When’s the last time a man has gotten you off?”

You choke on your drink and spit it out, wiping the cloth napkin over your chin as you catch your breath. “Excuse me?” you ask in disbelief.

“You heard me. It’s a simple question. When’s the last time a man has gotten you off?” His jaw tics and his eyebrow rises, his eyes hounding you as he waits for your answer.

You’re speechless, not believing what you just heard. But the way he’s looking at you now tells you he won’t back off till he knows. So you amuse him. “It’s been a couple of years,” you answer quietly, your voice barely audible above the ringing music.

“A couple years?” Joel asks incredulously. “Christ. No wonder you’ve been uptight lately. Y’need somebody to make you feel good, ain’t that right?” he asks with a rough, gravelly voice as he inches closer to you, your hands digging into the material of your black dress as he comes closer, closer, closer.

“I… I’m fine,” you say nervously, but he keeps leaning in, body hovering over yours as his hand ghosts over your thigh, causing goosebumps to raise in his presence.

“You’re not fine, sweetheart. You’re trembling. Your legs are shaking,” he points out as he trails his fingers lightly over your thigh, his whiskey breath breathing down your neck as he runs his lips across the shell of your ear, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up on end.

“I could make you feel so good, sweetheart. Could make you feel things you’ve never felt before. You want it, don’t ya? I can almost smell how bad you want it,” he teases as he whispers into your ear, making your legs squeeze tighter together as you hold in a whine of need.

Fuck, stop. Not tonight, not with him. He’s too charming, too tempting, too hot for you.

The edge of his patchy salt and pepper scruff slides against your jaw, making you want to run your fingers profusely through it as you drag your nails over him. Imagining his mouth between your legs, his tongue on your clit as he makes meticulous circles over you.

Fuck.

You catch your breath and watch him pull back just the slightest, his honey eyes now darker in shade, more prominent as his pupils expand wider into dark circles. “Let me give it to ya, angel. Let me take care of you,” he says with bared teeth, a devilish grin taking form on his face as his body crowds yours against the bar stool, just hovering as his hands cover the sides of you, fingers barely grazing your hips that send a fire right through your lungs.

You catch your breath and say the most logical response. “I don’t need it. I don’t do this, I don’t…”

“You don’t what, darlin’? Don’t let a man make you feel good? Don’t let a man touch you where you need it most?” he purrs, calloused fingers finding your thigh as he runs his hand up your smooth skin, leaving burn marks with every place he touches. It’s hot, sadistic, evil.

“I… I…” You’re completely flustered from him, feeling warmth flood your cheeks. He’s so fucking charming and handsome and fuck. He’s trying to coax you, and he’s doing a damn good job at it, too.

“I can see how bad you want it,” he purrs. “The way your cheeks are flushed, and your breathing is erratic. The way you’re squeezing your thighs together as if to pretend that ache isn’t stirring in there for me. The way you keep sucking on your bottom lip and staring at me with those needy, pretty eyes,” he coaxes, leaning into you again as he runs his hot tongue over the shell of your ear.

And fuck, does it feel good.

“You want it, baby. Give in. Let me fix that throbbing ache in that pretty pussy of yours. Let me turn this good little angel into a bad little devil,” he growls, making a wave of slick run down your center as you choke on a moan. He only laughs at your needy response, your middle completely full of warmth now from his daring actions and smoldering words.

When he finally pulls back, you ask the one question that keeps ringing in your mind. “What’s in it for you?” you ask with the cock of your eyebrow, chin jutting out as you wait for an obnoxious answer that any other man would give you.

“Only the pleasure of knowing I took care of you,” he smirks, eyes glazing over at you with hunger in his deep voice.

“What? You’re not gonna make me get on my knees and give you a blowjob like any other guy would?” you ask with the taste of metallic in your throat, bitter and stale as you swallow it back down. That’s what any other man would do. No one’s ever asked what you wanted, only what they needed. Sick fucks.

“No,” he answers honestly.

“No?” you ask with bewildered eyes.

“No. I’m not other guys, sweetheart,” he states simply, the hunger still there in his dark eyes as his chest rises and falls in waves. He’s looking at you with so much intent in his eyes that it makes you dizzy.

“So, what do you say? Want me to make you feel good?” he asks as he licks his lower lip seductively. The sight about knocks you out of your chair.

“I-uh. I… need a moment. Where are the bathrooms?” you ask hurriedly as you stand up from the bar stool, pulling your short dress down over your thighs.

“Down that dark hall and first door on your left,” he says as he points in the direction of the bathrooms. You nod and race off, dodging a couple making out as you walk around them, eager to get to the bathroom.

You shove past some people dancing and walk as fast as your high heels can carry you. You make your way through the dim lit hallway and crash into the door, swinging it open as you step into the lavish, huge bathroom. You stop at the porcelain sink and look into the lit up mirror as you stare at your reflection.

You freeze when you see just how flushed you are. Your eyes are as wide as an owl’s and the veins in your neck are pulsing like crazy. Your lace panties are drenched, and you’re so turned on that you feel as if you’re about to explode. You need to cum, you need to stop the ache in between your thighs.

What the fuck is wrong with you? You don’t hook up with guys. This isn’t like you. But Joel… Joel is so devilishly handsome, so charming, a gentleman, a smooth talker. He practically got you off by just hovering over you and whispering dirty words into your ear. He was too much, this was too much. You should just go back home. But you want this. You want him.

You take one more long look at yourself in the mirror and sigh, hands digging into the sink as you give up completely. Fuck it. You want him, so you’ll have him.

When you open the door and leave the lit up bathroom, you about topple over as you hit something that feels like a thick brick wall. You look up and realize it’s Joel you crash into. You gawk at the way he leans up against the wall, clearly waiting for an answer from you.

“So, decide what you’re gonna do, angel?” he asks smoothly, his thick voice dripping like syrup all over you.

Fuck this. This man is a menace.

He takes a step forward and you take one back, a game of tag going on. But it’s not just any tag. No. He’s the hungry wolf, and he came to eat you alive.

“Not exactly…” you whisper, your voice caught in your throat.

He chuckles lightly as he takes another step forward and another, backing you up into the dark hallway that seems to go on for miles. “It’s simple, sweetheart. You can either leave or you can let me indulge you,” he purrs as he comes closer, chasing you like a game of cat and mouse.

“What if I don’t want to?” you ask out of breath, your voice getting choked up as you swallow down want and desire.

He clicks his tongue at you, coming in for the kill. “Now, now, sweetheart. Don’t be coy. I can smell the arousal already drippin’ from you. Can see how bad you want this with the way your eyes widen and lips part for me,” he says seductively, pupils blowing out as he takes a step forward and another one until he’s successfully backed you into the darkest corner of the hallway he can manage.

You knock into the cold black wall and gasp when he cages you in, letting his hands linger against your thighs as you feel the heat of his fingertips press into your hip bones. He leans over and presses his lips to the shell of your ear, whispering incantations into it as you fall into a dreamlike trance.

“Y’know, there’s more than one way to seduce a lady. I can teach you so many things, angel. Can make you cum in more ways than one, can make you feel things you’ve only dreamt about,” he whispers, letting one of his hands run up the side of your thigh, gradually lifting your dress as he teases you with his hot breath hitting your ear.

“Yeah?” you ask audibly, your own voice betraying you as you give in to his coaxing.

“Mmmm. Yeah, that’s right. Ya want it, angel? Want me to show you what I’m talkin’ about?” he asks as he blows gently in your ear, making slick pool in your center as a whine gets caught in your throat.

“Mhm,” you choke out while holding in a moan.

“Say it. Say it,” he purrs out, the soft lilt of his voice hitting the back of your spine as tingles start to pour down your body. “Pretty, pretty please. Need to hear you say it,” he whispers, his hot breath breathing down your neck like a sauna you want to jump head first into.

“Yes, yes. Want you to show me,” you plead, your voice needy with want.

“Gotta say please first,” he teases as he spreads your legs apart and places his leg in between yours, hiking his knee up to brush against your clothed folds. You whine at the action.

“Please, Joel. Pleaseeee,” you beg.

“Good girl,” he praises as he lifts the skirt of your dress, cupping his hand over your sex as you writhe in his grasp. He smirks at you and pushes the lace to the side, freeing your wet pussy as the cold air hits it, making you bite your lip in response.

He slides two calloused fingers through your wet folds, gliding down lower as he sinks them inside your dripping hole. You moan at the feeling.

“Christ. You’re so fuckin’ wet for me, angel,” he groans, hooking them up to that sweet spongy spot that makes you see stars. You choke on a moan as you clench around him.

“Ahh, there it is. There’s that sweet spot,” he purrs as he goes in knuckles deep into your wetness. He gently slides his digits out and drags his covered fingers up, up, up, as they find your clit and run slow, meticulous circles around your throbbing bundle of nerves.

“Fuck,” you moan out as you grab the front of his shirt and moan into his ear, digging your fingers into the cotton material as you hold on for dear life.

“That’s right, angel. Let me hear you, that’s a good girl,” he praises. He takes the two drenched fingers that were just inside you and pop them in his mouth, sucking off all the slick that covers his large digits. Your jaw drops at the sight.

“God, you taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he groans as he shifts his leg in between yours again, bending it just slightly as he cages you in again.

The room is hot, humid, loud, and you’re fully aware that anyone could walk down here and see you fully on display as Joel has his way with you. But you don’t care, don’t say anything about it. You just want him.

Him, him, him.

“Now, sweetheart. Gonna need you to do something for me. Call this lesson one on ways to get you off,” he instructs as he digs his hands into your hips and pulls you forward to where you’re level with his muscled thigh. “Want ya to ride me, angel,” he says, voice gravelly and hot in your ear.

“You want me to… ride you? How?” you ask with your brows knitted together.

“On my thigh, sweetheart. C’mon. Put that pretty pussy on my thigh. Want you to cover my jeans, baby. Don’t be shy, sweetheart,” he coaxes, dragging your hips forward until you’re resting your center on his clothed thigh.

“Oh,” you respond as he slowly grinds your hips into his jeans, showing you exactly what he wants you to do. He lets go and lets you set the pace, taking control as your clit drags against the rough material, catching on the most sensitive areas as you pull him closer and dig your nails into his shirt, stifling out a moan as you move up and down, up and down. Feeling the building pressure low in your stomach as you choke on another moan.

“There ya go, that’s a good girl. Ride me just like that, angel. Doin’ so good,” he praises as you feel just how turned on he’s getting. The bulge is tight around his zipper, and you can see just how big and thick he is underneath the dark denim.

Fuck. You want him, you want him so fucking bad but you’ll have to wait because right now you can’t focus on anything but your building orgasm. It’s so… it’s sooo. Oh.

You rub your aching clit against the curve of his large thigh, grinding into him as you hit that spot again and again as you rut down into him even more, gripping the edge of his shirt so tight that you swear you’re about to rip it off him.

“Joellll, it feels good,” you moan with ragged breaths as he leans down and licks the shell of your ear, whispering dirty thoughts as his hot breath runs down the base of your neck, making you sweat against his large form.

“Yeah? Just like that, angel. Bein’ such a fuckin’ good girl,” he praises with a low, gravelly voice as it consumes you whole, sending more slick down his jeans as you continuously ruin his denim.

You moan again at the praise. This is so hot, he’s so hot. And he’s so good with his words. He could sweet talk you all night long just like this if he wanted to.

“You like that, huh? Like bein’ told how good of a girl you’re bein’,” he smirks, dragging his lips over your jaw as you smell his woodsy, whiskey scent all over you. You want to taste it, drink it up till you’re drunk on him, suffocate on his intoxicating scent as it spirals you into a pit of warmth.

“Yes, yes,” you whine as he presses his thigh deeper into your center, feeling the wave of pleasure take over as you’re right there. So close, but not quite there. Almost, almost.

“C’mon, angel. Be a good girl and cum for me. Wanna see you coat my thigh with your sweet cum,” he growls, lowering his hands to your ass as he squeezes and presses your hips forward, rocking into his leg as you ride the pleasure out, feel that building release about to break.

He drops his plush lips against your neck and sucks just above your collarbone, right against the sensitive spot that drives you crazy as you moan against his lips on your skin. You feel the smirk grow on his lips as a low groan comes from his mouth as he bites down again, feeding your raw adrenaline that chases your pleasure.

The blaring music and chanting crowd disappears from the room, becoming muddled as you focus on what’s in front of you, the strong arms that grip you and clench you down to his thigh, the dark eyes that envelop you as you slide deeper and deeper into a dreamlike state. You can’t hear anything, can’t feel anything other than your ragged moans, Joel’s labored breathing, the feel of his denim against your throbbing bundle of nerves, the calloused fingers that tease the back of your thighs, the hot breath that blows down your neck as he crowds your space. It’s just you and Joel, nothing else matters. Nothing else but this. Whatever this may be.

You jar forward, catching your clit on a wrinkle as it tugs at you, screaming your name to let go. Let go, let go. You can feel the white hot heat take hold of you, feel it slowly sliding down your center as your insides flutter and clench around nothing. You’re about to cum, about to release your heat all over him. And he knows. He knows.

“Don’t be shy, angel. Let me have it. Cum for me,” he growls dominantly, wrapping his hands tight around your waist as he pushes you down deep against the denim covering his thighs, pressing your throbbing clit at just the right spot as you feel yourself let go.

You dig your fingers into the collar of his shirt and press your face against the crook of his neck as you cum hard, feeling the slick spill out of you as you tense up over his thigh, squeezing your fingers around him as you moan his name loudly into his ear, hearing your breath hitch as he hums in approval.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Say my name. Yeah, just like that. There ya go,” he praises as he rocks you gently against his thigh, making sure you get every ounce of cum out of your dripping pussy.

You take a minute to come back down to earth, back to where you don’t hear the ringing in your ears, where you don’t see the bright lights covering your vision anymore. He slowly lets his hands loosen around your waist, gently leaning you back against the wall as he slides you off his thigh, covering your soaked folds with your ruined panties as he sets them back in place against your center. You wince as his fingers brush up over your sensitive clit and let him pull your skirt back down over your thighs.

He takes a step back and brushes his fingers against the damp stain on his jeans, slowly bringing them up to his mouth as he sucks his thick digits into his mouth, lapping up your slick as he stares straight at you with blown out pupils, making you gawk at the sight.

“Taste so fuckin’ sweet, angel. Goddamn.” He curses again under his breath and drops them to his side as he sticks them deep in his pocket looking for something. Whatever he grabs, he covers it in the base of his palm, not letting you quite see what it is.

“Did you enjoy that… lesson?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow up as he stares at you with wild eyes, his tousled curls a mess as sweat beads at a few of the curls pressed against his forehead.

Lesson? Does this mean there would be more?

“Mhm,” you hum out, too fucked out to give a straight answer right now as you were still stuck on the fact that this man had just made you cum the hardest you ever had in your life. Not even your vibrator was a match for him. And he hadn't even put his mouth on you yet or put his cock in you. That was saying something.

He was dangerous, tempting, a bad habit you could get used to. He was trouble, a menace. But you didn’t care. You didn’t care. You wanted more, needed more from him. Just him.

It’s like he hears your thoughts, smirking up at you as he lifts your chin and brushes his calloused thumb against your bottom lip, his eyes trailing down to stare at them as if he was thinking of sinking his mouth down on you. You hold your breath, not ready for that yet. It was too soon, too intimate of a thing.

He drops his thumb from your lip and trails it against your jawline, dropping down a level so his eyes sink into yours.

Fuck, he’s hot.

“If you ever need anything and I mean anything, I’m just a phone call away.” He grabs your hand as he sticks a business card in your palm, closing your fingers over it as he brings your hand up to his mouth, brushing his lips against the back of your knuckles as you suck in a deep breath as his soft lips kiss your skin. It feels good. So good.

“Hope to see you soon, angel.” He drops your hand back to your side as he winks and smirks a devilish grin your way, turning back around as he makes his way back towards the rush of the crowd, entering the noise once more as you watch him disappear into a sea of people as his tousled curls get pulled into the bodies, leaving you standing in shock in the dark alone.

You uncurl your fingers and run them along the edge of the glossy white business card. You turn it over and read it once, twice, three times as your eyes widen. You read it once more to make sure your eyes don’t deceive you, but you only see the same thing sprawled across the card each time. It reads Joel Miller: Owner of Club Inferno. His number sits above the words, leaving you breathless as you realize just who you were talking to earlier. Who you were complaining to earlier.

Holy shit. Joel was the club owner?!

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. You were in trouble. You were in so much fucking trouble. How would you show your face here again? You wouldn’t. Unless…. unless you decided to come back for more. And you wanted more with him.

You take a deep breath and lean against the cold wall, trying to get ahold of yourself as you rethink everything that had happened tonight. The drinks, the conversations, the flirting, the fucking part where he made you cum while he pressed you against his strong, muscular body.

As you close your eyes for a second and swallow down your orgasmic high from minutes ago, you slowly open them back up and come to terms with yourself. You can’t see yourself not coming back here and not letting him give you another lesson…

You need it, need him. You’d never had a man make you feel so bold, so sexy before in your life. And the way he was all about what felt good to you? Well it was… exhilarating. You wanted more, craved more. So you knew right then, you had to come back. For one more thrill, one more touch, one more orgasm. You’d come back… for him.

Joel Miller was going to be the fucking bane of your existence, you just knew it.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel x female reader #joel miller fic #tlou fanfiction #joel the last of us #joel tlou #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrostories #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #no outbreak!joel miller #dom!joel miller #possessive joel #club owner! joel #pleasure dom #joel x reader #joel x you #angst #no outbreak au #no use of y/n #pedrohub

[kiwiana-writes]

Fandom Trumps Hate offerings roundup for Red White & Royal Blue!

The browsing period for @fandomtrumpshate is officially OPEN and there are TWENTY-FOUR fan creators under the Red White & Royal Blue tag this year. Full details of all the offers can be found here, but here's a summary:

FAN FICTION

@andromedaskies [AO3] can write you a 5-10k FirstPrince fic with fluff, humor hurt/comfort, and light angst tropes!

Artemis [AO3] can write you a 5-10k fic!

@cr1nge-culture [AO3] can write you a <5k poetry and/or drabble collection, especially character studies and particularly interested in genderswap/genderbending, trans or nonbinary interpretations of canon characters, unhappy endings, and ambiguous endings!

@cricketnationrise [AO3] can write you a 5-10k fic, especially June/Nora, June/Nora/Pez, Pez/Liam, or David the Beagle POV!

@emmedoesntdomath [AO3] can write you a 5-10k fic, particularly family and relationship dynamics, F/F ships, unhappy endings, and ambiguous endings!

@inekepp [AO3] can write you a 5-10k FirstPrince fic, particularly tropes and angst with a happy ending!

@itsthemxze [AO3] can write you a <5k WLW fic, particularly F/F ships, poly ships, canonically trans or nonbinary characters, trans or nonbinary interpretations of canon characters, unhappy endings, and ambiguous endings!

@junebugclaremontdiaz [AO3] can write you a 5-10k FirstPrince, Junora, or Junopez fic, particularly pining and confessions, hurt/comfort, canon divergence, any number of AUs,disability-themed fics, trans or nonbinary interpretations of canon characters, and racial or cultural experiences of nonwhite characters!

@kiwiana-writes [AO3] can write you a 10-20k fic, particularly one involving kink and the psychology of kink, Queer Feelings™️, Oxford Slut Phase celebrations, college AUs, anything super tropey, epistolary, fairytale/fae, modern magic, rare ships as the focus or alongside FirstPrince, or trans or nonbinary interpretations of canon characters!

@kiwiana-writes [AO3] can also write you a 5-10k fic with the same parameters as the above longer fic!

@maudezbornak [AO3] can write you a FirstPrince fic (length dependent on bid)!

MayQueen517CactusDragon517 [AO3] can write you a <5k fic, particularly F/F ships, poly ships, genderswap/genderbending, canonically trans or nonbinary characters, trans or nonbinary interpretations of canon characters, aro/ace characters!

@orchidscript [AO3] can write you a 5-10k FirstPrince fic, particularly historical AUs, layers of friendships and family dynamics around a romantic relationship, world-building (to some degree), exploring how relationships grow/change/adapt, and a little (or big) dash of smut to round it all out!

@pirates-against-heterosexuality [AO3] can write you a 10-20k FirstPrince fic, particularly unhappy endings and ambiguous endings!

@songliili [AO3] can write you a 10-20k fic with a happy ending and a particular love for the murder husbands trope!

@sparklepocalypse [AO3] can write you a 5-10k FirstPrince fic, particularly movie-verse smut and AUs!

Steph [AO3] can write you a 5-10k fic, particularly one involving angst, hurt/comfort, complicated family dynamics; they're especially interested in racial or cultural experiences of nonwhite characters and ambiguous endings!

FAN ART

@captaindamianos can create you a book cover or drawing/painting/etc in either traditional or digital art, particularly one with historical fashion or modern AUs!

@seanchaidh7 can create you a drawing/painting/etc, particularly F/F ships, canonically trans or nonbinary characters, trans or nonbinary interpretations of canon characters! (There are TWO auctions on offer here with essentially the same guidelines so twice the chance of getting something amazing!)

PODFIC

@aliteralgarbageheap [AO3] can record you a podfic (length depending on bid up to 5k), especially soulmates, misunderstandings, identity porn, and sexuality and gender exploration!

@kiwiana-writes [AO3] can record you a 10-20k (with some flexibility at the upper end) podfic in an Aotearoa/New Zealand accent, particularly something kinky, tropey, full of queer feelings, or all of the above!

@sweatersinthesummer [AO3] can record you a 10-20k podfic, particularly humour or angst!

@thirdeye1234 [AO3] can record you a 10-25k FirstPrince podfic, get-together or established relationship!

FAN LABOUR

@emmalostinwonderland [AO3] can provide a beta read, sensitivity read (autism, non-combat PTSD, and religious trauma), or specialist expertise (cults/deprogramming, American evangelical Christian practices/deconstruction, missionary work, 9-1-1/emergency services, policework, autism in adults, and autigender/autistic gender masking) for fics over 50k!

@england-would-fall [AO3] can provide a beta read (length dependent on bid), anything from cheer-reading to nit-picky copyedits, assistance with fact checking and research, internal consistency with regard to characters, setting, and plot!

@here-queer-jointpain-severe can provide a beta read, sensitivity read (South Asian culture, LGBTQIA people and culture), or specialist expertise (football, baseball, hockey, basketball, gymnastics, Texas politics, American politics, Christianity in America), particularly for Oscar/Raf or any combo of June/Nora/Pez!

@sweatersinthesummer [binding tag] can typset any fic up to 400k words!

Mark your calendars: Bidding opens Tuesday, March 5th at 8am EST and closes Saturday, March 9th at 8pm EST!

Check out @fandomtrumpshate for more details about how it all works, and to check out other fandoms—it's been a record-breaking year for signups! And don't forget to read through the above offers in full before bidding to identify any wills and will nots :)

(And if I've missed a tumblr tag, let me know so I can update the post—I checked AO3 profiles/fic end notes for anyone who didn't have their tumblr in their offering post! A couple of you wouldn't let me tag properly, sorry 😢)

#fandom trumps hate #fth 2024 #fth2024 #red white and royal blue #rwrb #firstprince #signal boost

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

first i wanna say that the royalty au fic was soo enjoyable to read!! and can i request platonic!headcanons with piper mclean x daughter of hades?? where the readers like kinda scary and off putting and they somehow create a bond with piper😭 i’m also sure ur inbox is going to be flooded with requests so take ur time !!

⋆⭒˚.⋆ platonic! piper mclean x daughter of hades! reader hcs

𝜗𝜚 content...platonic! piper mclean x daughter of hades! reader hcs 𝜗𝜚 warnings...lanauage and (technically) sexual innuendos 𝜗𝜚 letter's from the author...ta da!!!! After doing this, i realized i have a negative grasp on piper's character lmao- (pretty sure I didn't like her as a kid but tbh i dont really remember as for the whole of the lost hero i was completely distracted by leo and jason-) so, i don't know how good or bad this is but uh it's here!! so enjoy ig but if you don't no worries we'll just forget this ever happened!!

────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

-`♡´- "hey, you look cool and lonely. wanna be friends?"

-`♡´- what an opener, am i right???

-`♡´- i don't think piper is one of those people to be like, ashamed lmao

-`♡´- so im sure she had no problem marching right up to you and asking to be friends

-`♡´- though, this is a little jarring at eight in the morning over your bagel, but you let it slide because she seemed to have good intentions

-`♡´- and also, she called you lonely...which was true, but most people don't just say that.

-`♡´- especially not to a kid of the big three (mother fuck the big three, it's just big me-)

-`♡´- you simply shrugged and nodded, which caused piper to nodded back before returning to her table.

-`♡´- you didn't think anything of the interaction, shrugging it off and nearly forgetting about it, until piper came up to you later and started talking to you about your earrings and your clothes and basically everything else under the sun

-`♡´- and, strangely enough, you didn't mind the daughter of aphrodite, not one bit

-`♡´- in fact, you found her company...endearing.

-`♡´- from that point on, it was hard to find the daughter of hades with out her bestie daughter of aphrodite

-`♡´- she brought out a fun side in you and sometimes you were able to keep piper from going completely crazy

-`♡´- hang outs in the arena is a must

-`♡´- partially to train but also to watch all the other cute demigods get sweaty and flustered

-`♡´- i know you guys talk about crushes like you would not believe, code names and all

-`♡´- but the code names are always like 'abe lincoln' and 'angel food cake' which def have a meaning that only you guys know

-`♡´- ALSO big on the whole 'sweet treat' thing

-`♡´- i know daddy tristan mclean be keeping piper's credit card MAXED

-`♡´- and i also know piper would only enjoy spending it on her friends

-`♡´- sometimes, just for shits and giggles, you and piper trade aesthetics

-`♡´- they aren't super dissimilar but it's noticeable enough

-`♡´- ummmm matching pjs for the sleepover??? YES YES YES

-`♡´- obvi pipers are pink and yours are black, duh!

-`♡´- but they are still matchy matchy

-`♡´- and horror movies are BIG at these sleepovers, which also includes themed snacks

-`♡´- "should i be concerned about whether or not the blood in these cupcakes is real?" piper asked, eyeing them and you suspiciously

-`♡´- "it's not animal blood if it makes you feel better," you teased back.

-`♡´- "that does, in fact, not make me feel better."

-`♡´- that being said, you are the biggest defender of piper and her vegetarian

-`♡´- will fight anyone who tries to give piper meat, even on accident

-`♡´- but, you've also DEF bought piper a shirt that says something along the lines of 'the only meat i eat is roast beef ;)' or 'eat pussy, it's organic!"

-`♡´- piper wears them, unironically

-`♡´- AND SHE FUCKING ROCKS THEM STFU-

-`♡´- you guys aren't really known for your raw moments, but late at night, when you're both lying in bed after a sleepover, the strong sense of girlhood just takes you over and you can't help but spill your guts.

-`♡´- "you know, you're my best friend. thank you for, uh, calling me a loser basically."

-`♡´- "of course. i'm glad you were being a total loser that day so that we could be losers together from that point forwards."

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #pjo #hoo #pjo fandom #heroes of olympus x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #piper mclean #toa #pjo hoo toa #heros of olympus #the lost hero #platonic! piper mclean #platonic! piper mclean x reader #x reader #platonic

[viburnt]

Leopard! Dabi Headcanons (Hybrid! AU)

Someone had requested this on my asks, but TUMBLR WAS A BITCH AND UPLOADED THE WRING THING. Anyhow, hoping this reaches that person. Please enjoy!

CONTENT WARNING: NSFW 🔞, mentions of breeding

• Leopards are opportunistic hunters, and they use their particular appearance to disguise themselves and surprise the prey they've targeted. Sounds a little familiar? Perhaps it is because it's something Dabi does. Touya Todoroki joined Shigaraki as Dabi, a false identity he created to take revenge on Endeavor; he didn't join Shigaraki because he supported his plans, but because he needed things he could provide like the resources and a team.

• Something very curious about this species is how they have variants according to the environment. We have grey/white snow leopards, yellow ones, and black ones too! It's befitting considering how Dabi's appearance has changed over the years: white-haired kid, black-haired villain. A snow leopard and a panther.

• Depending on when you meet him, you could either find deep black fur on his tail and ears, or you could still see his white fur. He also has a pair of large canines that you can see whenever he grins or when his anger is too much to handle.

• It is also a thing that leopards have super soft fur on their lower abdomen so... happy trail. Oh! Claws, by the way; my take on this is that Touya might've been declawed as a cub to avoid "hurting himself more" than he already did with his quirk.

• Leopards are also very active during most of the day, always on the lookout for prey. Leopard! Dabi is also plotting against heroes and his father most of the time. He's part of a very solitary species, not exactly forming bonds like other big cats such as lions. They get company, however, when it's time to mate.

• Leopard! Dabi is not the most talkative version of Dabi, he still is a cocky bastard, but he finds it hard to talk to you. So, naturally, when ruts happen, there's no verbal warning. Touya starts playing a little rough with you whenever he feels the need to breed you, pushing and pulling teasingly until he has you where he wants you: couch, bed, chairs, counters, floor...

• Touya often relies on body language to let you know you're his (even when he's not the most affectionate partner). He also has a thing for napping all over your clothes and messing with your stuff (say bye to your food, he'll leave the fridge empty).

• His go-to position is prone bone because of how similar it is to the leopard's mating technique. He bites your neck whenever he's buried deep inside your guts (cat things), groaning and growling whispered "Fucks!" And "Tight!". Regardless of if he can breed you or not, he always stays inside you for a few more moments to avoid his cum to drip out of you.

• His rut lasts around 2 or 3 days, and he can go as many times as he needs until he satiates the itch inside his body. If he somehow knocks you up, you'll have to put that cat on a leash or something, because no feline species stay with their cubs at all. Hates when people pulls his tail.

A wanton moan escapes your lips, feeling Touya sink his teeth into the tender flesh of your thighs. You can see him looking at your face from your angle, legs locked open as he meets your sensitive core with his tongue. "You told me to clean the mess... Don't look at me like that now." The man purrs, licking his lips with a teasing grin. "I'm gonna pull that tail of yours one day, see who's laughing- Oh, fuck!"

"Mhm, you're all talk now. But when I'm breeding you? You seem to be speechless." He murmurs, lapping you once more. "Dumb cat."

"Love you too."

Tagging: @trickster-kat @doumadono @shonen-brainrot @shionancientsblog @dabislittlemouse

#my hero academia #dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader

[allgearlit]

Hello ! I wonder if you're new on tumblr. If yes then i'd like to welcome you and i just read your work with starscream and it was super adorable and also heart warming😭❤️

If it's okay i'd like to request a small drabble with g1 Starscream and female human reader first contact au where a fem reader was taking a walk and suddenly finds abandonet jet and decides to take a look and then i'll leave the rest to you <3

OR something a bit more dark with also g1 Starscream and fem human reader where reader is being an unwilling captive and he decides to explore her organic nature ( could be a little non-con/nsfw-ish if that's okay if not then i comepletely understand <3)

You can pick between those two any you like more <3 thanks a lot for reading ans i hope you'll get a warm welcome🥰❤️

Hello! Thank you so much for the ask - I'm not new to tumblr per-say, I started as an art blog and decided to pivot to writing since that's more of my passion anyhow. Though I appreciate the welcome! <3

I love both ideas - I hope you won't mind if I maybe make the latter at a later date (with credit to you for the idea). The first one though; that screams (heh) mini series. I love the BumbleBee movie so much and fantasize about Charlie's scenario with other bots, so I'll make this into it's own little drabble series. I hope that's acceptable! ☆

G1!Starscream x Fem!Human!Reader: The Starscream Movie AU Pt1

I couldn’t tell you the time if I tried. I needed peace, freedom from my thoughts. A walk late in the night was my best solution. Anyone could tell you I haven’t been feeling my best recently, though to pin-point the problem would be an anxiety riddled mess in of itself. I walked down by the nearby lake that always looked so much bigger at night. Perhaps it was the contrast between it’s glistening blue water to the velvety black sky, or the way the stars hit the rippling water, creating a galaxy effect. Regardless, it was one of my few favourite spots in the area.

There was a bench that was almost always vacant, near the centre of the lake, just where the bend dipped over the shore in a gentle fashion. As I approached, something else caught my attention. A ship, or jet? I couldn’t quite tell in the light. It looked like something straight out of the military. I took in a sharp breath as the curiosity bubbled in my throat. I wanted to inspect the craft, anxiety and logic going out the window as I approached. It was a slender build, likely only able to house one person at best. The thought of there potentially being a body in the cockpit made me shudder, but I knew I had to check.

Reaching over with my shaking hand, I rubbed over the golden paneling, to my good fortune, it was empty. However, this lead to a new line of questioning, where had it come from?

I continue inspecting the craft, my hand gliding over the metal nonchalantly as I analyze it like an artifact. Something else catches my eye, a purple symbol - almost like a horned creature. Instinctively, my fingers glide over the etching, mesmerized by its rich colouring and definition. Whatever it meant was unfamiliar to me.

After my thorough inspection of the exterior, a little click and hissing noise arises from the cockpit, opening the sealed space. It was as if I was being invited into whatever this machine was, and I couldn’t help my temptations to peek. Climbing up onto the jet, I shuffled into its cockpit, as quickly as it had opened for me, it slammed shut.

An involuntary yelp escapes my lips as I hear the lock click into place, it was as if the jet was alive. Pressing my palms onto the panel, I whimper as I try to get it to open. A sudden noise fills the air, it sounded like robotic laughter. The noise startled me, and promptly caused me to land flat on my bum in the seat.

“Who’s there?”

Despite attempting to sound confident, my voice comes out as a weak whimper, panicked and unsure. The robotic laughter stops, and a voice comes out instead.

“Stuck on this wretched planet for less than half a cycle, and already an inhabitant has decided to be stupid enough to touch me.”

The voice was snivelly, snarky, and cybernetic. The kind that makes one a pinch uneasy. It filled the air almost too evenly, as if the words were coming from the jet itself. In my moment of logic, I begin trying once more to push the panel up, when the voice mocked me once more.

“Don’t bother, I’m keeping you in here so we can have a little chat.”

Defeated, I let my frame sink into the rather uncomfortable seat. Frustration bubbles within me as I look around the tiny space.

“Alright, let’s talk.” I speak up, my voice hoarse with that anxiety. “What are you?”

A light on the console shines as he prepares to speak, though nothing is obvious or makes any sense to me. Perhaps I was too oblivious to notice it at first.

“The name is Starscream, second in command of the Decepticons. Though, I don’t think your puny little flesh-bag brain can handle all of this info, I’m a Cybertronian.”

Every word that Starscream speaks makes me doubt him, as if the word  Decepticon wasn’t already suspicious enough.

“So, you’re a race of alien jets?”

This prompts a grunt, and I swear if he had eyes they’d be rolling.

“No fleshie. We’re robots who can change our forms. This jet you’re in is my alt-form.”

Before I can even ask, I’m suddenly shuffled inside the cockpit as it literally changes shape with me inside. I roll around like a towel in the washer, when suddenly it finishes with me in the palm of a massive robot's hand. Starscream looks down at me with piercing red orbs. He has a smirk on his face as he looks at me, before proceeding to tousle me in his hand.

“You’re cuter than I thought, I might just keep you.” His voice is the same snarky tone as  before, though now it’s clear that he is far more comfortable with me. I feel my face grow pink at the prospect of becoming his - human pet? I’m not sure what he’d make me, but regardless, I try to refute.

“Now wait a second -”

However, He places his thumb over my lips to promptly silence me, walking to where who knows where until he stands still and look down at me.

“...Where is your home fleshie?”

#starscream g1 #starscream #starscream x reader #tf g1 #transformers #transformers x reader #reader insert #g1 starscream #allgear drabble #sfw

[quitealotofsodapop]

Stone Egg theories + Luzhen

All are asks are connected to this post made about: what if Stone Monkeys could naturally reproduce asexually via converting their body into a new Stone Egg?

All images have transcripts btw.

1: Possibly. Wukong has a *lot* of immortalities. But accidentally creating a Stone Egg asexually takes a lot out of him physically and spirtually. His soul gets a permanent hit to it. The whole point of the Stone Egg is for either a monkey with a large familial group to produce an heir without a mate, or the last of a troop to fling a piece of hope into the future. Most don't survive, but some do. It helps to have a lot of magically talented friends/family around to stabilize your body once the egg-creating process has begun so you can heal. Though I bet most single monkeys prefered adoption if at all necessary - accidentally giving the Stone Monkey kind a hyper-active parental instinct towards non-related infants of similar species.

He probably gets cravings for a lot of rocks, metal and bones in the process.

2 & 3: (@soniclozdplove) Guanyin realised that she gotta put her stone monkey on birth control if they were gonna keep him underground. Her brain jumped to "He's made of rock right? rock spirits eat metal... right?? Crap, it's the only thing down here." and cue molten copper and iron pellets for dinner. The question is; was it even that painful for Wukong? Man takes out his organs a bunch of times and bathes in hot oil in Jttw without complaint. Odds are in the moment it felt like the worlds worse heartburn/spicy food burn since he really is made of earth materials. XD

He probably felt super grateful once he realized why Guanyin was feeding him molten metal. He didn't want kids in that circumstance either!

4: A furiously confused pregnant Wukong! He immediately starts yelling at Gold Star for answers, and has to be talked down from trottling the Buddha himself for this. Tripitaka is panicking, he's never been around a pregnant person before!

Wukong doesn't even need the circlet in this verse. Guanyin just gives him false labor contractions and he's behaving immediately. He probably has to lug the egg in his body around for some extra time, maybe even until the Journey is over depending on how funny the Buddha or Bixia Yuanjun (goddess of childbirth) is feeling.

Macaque sees Wukong pregnant this way and is confused, dismayed, and yelling "Who's the father!?" at every Pilgrim. It takes him a while to understand that the Stone Egg happened cus of SWK being essentially slow-cooked underground for 500 years. Even if Macaque plays nice with the Pilgrims afterwards, he's still glaring at anyone who comes near Wukong and "their" egg.

Wukong endears himself to many people simply because he's with child. Probably gets an extra godly nickname (something like "Meihou-Wangmu" a pun on his Handsome Monkey King title + Queen/King Mother) refering to him as a fertility figure - women seeking luck with having/not having children approach Wukong asking for his blessing, and odds are it works because of who his creator is. XD

But he also attracts unique threats that the pilgrims have to personally destroy to protect him - Krasues and Manananggals anyone?

The second the Journey is over, Wukong kneels over and with an literal earth-shattering scream out *pops!* a little Stone Egg. All happy and cracking open minutes later. His and Macaque's first born isn't told the details of their creation for a long time.

5 & 6: Gold Star gives Shadowpeach the Stone Monkey version of The Talk and warns them never to get buried alive unless they're 100% sure about it. Macaque and Wukong are terrifed into not having kids until Guanyin let sit slip that the "regular way" should work too.

In "The Monkey King and the Infant" au; Gold Star was a little more than shocked to hear about MK/Xiaotian's creation XD

Macaque is sadly unlikely to ever carry a "clone egg" to term or survive the full process. His body is a lot smaller/weaker than Wukong's and he was deprived of a lot of nutrients as a newborn (stuck on the moon = very few vitamins). So if he ever got triggered into parthenogenesis, his body would likely just refuse to create an egg. No gas in the tank.

Baby Luzhen is born from SWK, and he immediately takes out the roof/part of the Jade Palace with eye lazers. Giggling, he fails to notice the looks of horror on his family's faces.

Pigsy shoudl be just used to this nonsense by now. In the TMKATI Au; MK was a rogue comet Harbringer baby, the twins were freebies from Diyu, Yuebei was the reincarnation of one of their greatest enemies, the twin boys are likely reincarnated lunar node deities, and ofc now Luzhen decides to spawn in like a chicken egg.

I love the idea of Tang hearing all these gory details like;

Tang: "This is like finding a living dinosaur egg or a thylacine! Imagine if any of your children married a regular monkey demon- it could completely bring back your species!"

Wukong + all Three Realms shudder at the thought - Wukong mostly because he aint never doing that again. Gold Star of Venus and Lao Tzu hum, intrigued at the thought.

Tang starts crying when he realises that single-parent Stone Monkeys would likely be born orphans. It's so sad! :'(

6: Nah, Luzhen pops out all newborn baby. You see, being born fully-developed from a Stone Egg is a huge rarity; only occurring when the whole troop has died out and the egg is left on its own for thousands of years. If a Stone Monkey parent is "awoken" early enough (like within say 500-600 years) in the Egg's development and tended to quickly, their bodies stabilize into a long, but far less dangerous form of pregnancy. Its a safeguard for in case the pregnant survivor of an extinct group is found by a new troop, the parent survives and can live to possibly reproduce with the new unrelated group (higher chance of viable mates).

The only sacrifice being that the babies in these "soft-boiled" Stone Eggs are a lot weaker, premature even. The eggs themselves having a much higher chance of being empty or just absorbing straight back into the parent. Many who survived the process just sighed, it was the law of nature - why risk a possible baby for the parent when survival is preferred?

Luzhen is able to be born simply because Wukong has such a solid support system and healthcare available to him.

Ty for all these asks! I guess I should make a special "Stone Egg talk" tag for these ideas!

#stone egg talk #jttw theories #lmk #lego monkie kid #sun wukong #liu er mihou #six eared macaque #the monkey king and the infant #the monkey king and the infant au #journey to the west #jttw #sun luzhen #lmk sun luzhen #pregnancy tw #lmk aus #jttw aus #gold star of venus #lao tzu #laozi #guanyin #lmk guanyin #lmk lao tzu #jttw stone egged au

[vivantesopales]

so i made a tomarry rec list to convert my mutuals🍷

or: 10 fics i adore and the potion ingredients they taste of

What He Grows To Be | M, 260k | @k-s-morgan

A story of trust, remorse and the darker aspects of love. It is premised on one of the most beloved tomarry tropes – 'Harry time travels back to raise Tom' – and so Tom is given the chance to unlearn his frankly disastrous sense of entitlement and ultimately, to be reshaped by empathy and forgiveness. WHGTB is the perfect fic to get into tomarry if you're not quite sure what to expect from this ship, still wondering what their dynamic might look like, etc.

love is touching souls (surely you touched mine) | M, 34k | @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger

An accident takes Harry back to the winter of 1945, where he immediately captures the interest of a fresh-out-of-Hogwarts, not-yet-beyond-saving Tom. Their dynamic is deliciously intense from the start, with Harry being his usual sassy, dorky self that leaves Tom equally infuriated and intrigued. And Tom's arc, likewise, is beautifully crafted. Conversations about redemption, about remorse, are layered, thoughtful. Expect hurt/comfort, domestic softness, a devastating cliffhanger and an ending that will gently put you back together like a forehead kiss.

As Is The Father, So Is The Son | E, 4.5k | @this-is-your-heichou-speaking

An a/b/o royalty AU in which Tom (the Prince) is practically obsessed with Harry, who happens to be an omega boy from his father’s harem. This is undoubtedly one of the hottest smuts I’ve ever read, featuring lush prose, unapologetic, dub-con/non-con elements and an interesting take on “dark slutty Harry”. tl;dr: mind the tags; stay hydrated ����🍆

breaking in through open doors | T, 1.4k | Brooding_Aunt

A unique, haunting read that is perfect for spooky seasons. Horror masterpiece. Goosebumps guaranteed. I won’t spoiler much but I urge you to give emo girl Harry a go (it makes a terrifying lot of sense in the context of the storytelling, I swear), and let her narrative haunt you.

Thirst | E, 27k | @obsidianpen

(Sexy) mind games with Horcrux!Tom …. Will he be motivated enough to let Harry out of the Lestrange Vault before Voldemort arrives? Another dark, chilling fic in which both Harry and Tom have their own weaknesses that the other seeks to explore, and hopefully to take advantage of, as they grapple for survival.

Memento Mori | E, 49k | @purplewitch156

Every time Harry dies, instead of boarding the train that will take him to the Afterlife, to his family, he chooses to return to the living world with Tom, who is unable go on. Four Lives, two idiots, one love story. There’s humour, there’s action, heartwarming moments and heartbreaking ones … basically, be prepared for all the feels that will take forever to recover from.

Wake From a Dream | T, 2.6k | @duplicitywrites

Cats and domestic tomarry (I am so ridiculously weak for this). Duplicity’s writing is gorgeous in that, within a smallish word count, we are given a glimpse of something profound, something vulnerable, subtly tucked into the lovely little interactions and the intimacy Harry and Tom share.

Hmm | G, 6.4k | Wolven_Spirits

‘Harry is a hummingbird animagus. Tom opens a flower shop just to attract his attention.’ That’s the fic summary – need I say more🥺?? There’s something so gentle and evocative (but also undeniably Slytherin) about Tom’s decision to devote himself to his flowers, to creating a safe space for Harry. Florist!Tom supremacy, is what I’m saying.

Man Down | T, 5k | @classlesstulip

It’s tagged as Mafia AU, but in all honesty this fic is, I must say, ‘Ghibli in gangster’s suit’ (affectionate). It’s hilarious (I genuinely laughed out loud quite a few times throughout the story), super adorable, and everything that makes a lovely pick-me-up fic.

What Happens In Vegas | E, 14k | @dividawrites

Sexy, decadent and intrinsically tomarry, this fic became an instant fave a few paragraphs in. Tom is super chaotic and his characterisation is perhaps one of the best I’ve ever read. Featuring a delicious age difference, thirsty brat Harry, DADA Professor Riddle (yes please) and size kink hello🥵 – all that executed through Divida’s sharp, witty writer’s voice! Really, Vegas is the ultimate dream.

#tomarry #tom riddle #harry potter #tomarry fanfiction #tom/harry #tomarry recs #hp fic rec #tomarry fic #tomarry au #opal's library

[kit-williams]

Picnic

Male Lead: Tulio Female Lead: Psychi Universe/AU: Warhammer 40k/Yandere Space Marine Canon Status: Set after when she gets traded/sold to his buddy and Tulio has started courting... yes its canon until I say otherwise

note: it was a real close race that ended with Tulio, Sirus, and Arkyn/Nakht. Sirus pulling ahead of sweet boy Arkyn at the very end. But I was also informed that I've created one of those super ultramarines the ones with plot armor.

Psychi was doing her best to settle in with her new master... in this new standing. She could tell that there isn't much need of her around which makes her nervous as it makes her wonder why she was bought. She is thankful that she gets to see Lord Tulio far more as she still must think of a way to pay him back for saving her life. Yet every attempt has been thwarted and foiled leaving her more and more nervous as to how she can pay the astarte back.

The grass green eyes that meet her own eyes as she bites her bottom lip... there's been a suspect lack of things for her to do today and what little she can find to do then here comes Tulio. She's far from some young maiden who shirks her duties to go romp around with other youths... "I don't-" Psychi starts.

"And I can get you out of any trouble you would get into." He croons at her softly as he picks her up and steals her away during the early morning rays and she can't help but let out the softest giggle as he spins her in his arms as she looks at the bag of food.

"What's this Tulio?" She asks softly.

"Lunch!" He says happily, "And I have a gift for you!" He says with such a smile in his eyes as she looks up at him with expectations, "Close your eyes." He purrs into her ear and she can't help but shiver at the hot breathe rolling over the shell of her ear. She could feel the weight of something upon her neck and then the tightness of a choker.

She opens her eyes as she rubs her throat feeling the small smooth stone around her neck. "I got you an amber choker! It looks so pretty on you!" She feels her cheeks heat up as she is surprised about the fact that he had gotten such a gift.

"Are you alright?" Tulio says with some concern in his voice.

"Yes I'm just... flustered by the gift. I wasn't expecting such... such a gift." She manages to say.

She yelps once again as she is picked up as he walks to where he wants to spend the day with her. The grassy hill by the stream is a wonderfully warm yet close to shaded spot as Psychi is placed down and their picnic can begin.

Sweet figs and honey mixed with meats and cheeses. Tulio for his part regaled her with poetry and prose... watching her wade into the stream to cool off as the two of them also watch the fish swim by.. and even Tulio catching two for something a bit later as the two of them continue to stay out until the stars start to come out as she and Tulio eat the fish and the remainder of the food that Tulio had brought for them.

She leans against his arm just looking up at the stars as he is talking about the different constellations and also the different campaigns in certain sectors. He pulls her close as she tells him what she knows about the stars, very limited, and stories and tales of what she knows passed down orally as she feels his hands pet her form and her head.

Psychi doesn't even realize she drifts off against Tulio smiling as she listens to his voice drone on and on about something she can't quiet remember but it hardly matters as she feels wanted in this brief moment and once more she hopes she can make it up to him someday.

Fluffuary Tag List: @bispecsual @the-californicationist @egrets-not-regrets @libraryshadow @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

#warhammer 40k #yandere space marine #space marine #yandere ultramarine #ultramarine #ultrahusband #OC: Tulio #psychi #tulio x psychi #x reader #space marine x reader #fluffuary #fluffuary2024

[evelhak]

[requests closed]

Okay, my KnB mutuals, friends and strangers alike, the day has come.

I'll tag some people off the top of my head, because then I don't get to secretly wish no one saw this, so I would be off the hook. @lylakoi @vespersposts @active-mind-15 @ni-kol-koru @misfitmiska @myndless88 @kurokonobrainrot @japeneselunchtimerush @shutokushintaro @kucho04 @deargravity @raspberrylix

Whether you're tagged or not is actually inconsequential for the rest of the post.

I never thought of doing events for hitting any follower count, EXCEPT I told myself a long time ago that

once I have 1111 followers (only because I will realistically never have 11 111) I will do something stupid in the spirit of this string of numbers.

In other words

✨I welcome you all to torture me✨

(if you want.)

Now is your chance to ask someone to do anything you want.

To write any fic, draw any fan art, or create any other type of fan content you want (edits and AMVs count too, in fact, if you tell me to bake a cake or knit a scarf with your idea, I will do it) and you may be as mean about it as you wish. Complete disregard for my feelings is encouraged.

I'm not saying you have to be intentionally sadistic about it, that's not the point, the point is that you get to do what you please, whether it makes me suffer or not.

Do you have an idea you wanted to make but didn't dare because you feared fandom hate? I'll take the hit.

Want me to write about a ship I love cheating on each other? I'll do it.

Want me to draw a ship I hate, doing something shippy? Name the ship.

Is there an AU you want to see? There's a good chance I will squirm through it, but squirm I shall.

Have a particularly gross headcanon you've wanted to see but didn't dare to make it?

You get the idea.

(Of course, how much you know about my likes and dislikes depends on how long you've known me, but since the point isn't really to ask me to do what I hate, it's for you to get the total freedom of not caring about the preferences of the person you're requesting something from, don't get hung up on that.)

For this one time, and one time only, I am your daredevil, I am your genie in the bottle.

Your rules are simple:

if you want, ask me to create anything you wish, give me your most selfish or egotistical KnB desire

you can be as vague or as detailed as you want

don't go easy on me, don't tone it down because you want to spare me

if you're wondering if you can request something the answer is yes

however if your most selfish desire is a sketch of some characters on a picnic then that is exactly right, you don't need to shock anyone on purpose, you can ask for anything that is true to you

My rules are:

I am not allowed to complete a request I hate in the easiest way I can imagine, my goal is to transform that hate into love

I must approach everyone's ships and headcanons and visions as seriously and with as much love as I would my own

the only occasion I will not do something is if it significantly impacts my mental health for the worse

My brain is ridiculously one track, and super attached to my own headcanons, my one vision for everything, so believe me when I say this could easily get hard for me. That's the point. Obviously I'm doing this for shits and giggles, but the underlying drive is also to give myself some tough love and Spartan treatment, for character building. Let's smash my One True Headcanon brain (for a moment, before I go right back to my preferences, hopefully taking something valuable and more permanent with me from the experience).

I will keep this open for three days. If I get too many requests, I will draw five out of a hat, or something. : D I'll finish them during 2024.

Like I said, I didn't tag anyone on purpose or leave anyone out on purpose so no matter how you pass by this post you're free to do as you please with it or ignore it, obviously. Anons are also fine, by the way.

(If you feel like inviting more chances for me to potentially cry, reblogging is fine too.)

#someone may have told me to branch out #probably not what they meant but let's go #let's torture eve event #knb

[morganbritton132]

I see a lot of people sending you their thoughts for your tik tok universe and just out of interest: do you enjoy people sending you their thoughts? Like we’re all creating something together? Or do you sometimes get asks you completely disagree with and just don’t answer them? (Because I don’t think I’ve ever seen an ask you answered with disagreement though I might be wrong with that)

Personally I’m very fascinated whenever someone “opens” an alternate universe idea and a large portion of the fandom comes together to expand on this very new version of reality. So I’m very much enjoying every single one of these posts and I’m really thankful that you “opened” the idea and became the hosting point 🩵

This is a very interesting ask to be sent so thank you!

I really enjoy that people send in their thoughts and ideas for this AU.

I like that the AU is collaborative. It makes it easier to keep it going, because it really is one or more posts a day and I think it’d be a lot harder to keep up creatively without other people contributing their thoughts and ideas. It really opens the door up to possibilities that I wouldn’t have considered before and people ask questions that have implications that I haven’t really thought of.

I think it helps to ground the AU into a very real sense of reality and I love that.

I find it endlessly fascinating that the aftermath of being a hero is real life and that after you save the world, you have to live in it. This AU started out as a one-off post about Eddie being bad at the internet and then morphed into this almost-character study of surviving world-shattering events and then creating a life out of the pieces that is beautiful and soft, and caring.

I don’t think that’s achieved without other people’s input.

And also! I think it is super interesting to explore the consequences of being online and people send in prompts that really help explore both the positives and negatives of online communities, and I am grateful!

I do sometimes get prompts that don’t really align with where the AU is going or that are a bit too fantastical or out of character for the setting, and I typically just leave them alone. It feels mean-spirited to publicly respond to someone and tell them that I don’t like their idea.

It also feels like it’d be really discouraging to those people and I don’t ever want to discourage someone from thinking creatively or like, embarrass them in any way because I don’t think I’ve ever received a bad prompt. It’s just that it doesn’t fit the narrative or that I am not equipped to tackle it.

All and all, I am really grateful for this AU and that it has created this little wholesome community. It’s been very rewarding and very fun.

#also sometimes I get prompts that take a bit more creative input or are emotionally tasking and those take a while to respond to #this was a great ask! #eddie munson tiktok saga

[winter-dayz]

Lonely St.

Pairing: Kim Seungmin x Reader Grim Reaper AU; Soulmate AU Genre: Angst; Fluff Words: 3322 Warnings: implied major character death; implied suicide; strong language

Masterlist | Fictober Masterpost

Taglist:  @soobin-chois

Wandering.

Watching.

Waiting.

That’s all Seungmin really knew.

He wandered around the material plane, invisible to mortal beings, watching them enjoy their short lives. He saw them laugh and cry, celebrate and grieve. He watched their senseless wars, their fighting, their deaths.

And then he waited.

He waited for the feeling. The pull to a newly deceased soul.

It was all he’d ever known.

Ferrying souls so that they could rest, he’d never had a choice in it. It was what he was created to do.

The Fates had molded him in the shape of the beings he worked with, helping to gain their trust once they had left their mortal bodies and making it easier to get them to cross over.

He wasn’t frightening. He didn’t kill. He just did his job. He might’ve been a bit reserved towards his… clients, but he was anything but scary. Despite the rumors that the Grim received.

Presently, he was monitoring an older woman in the hospital. He could feel the tug. Any moment…

“Oh dear…” She sighed, eyeing her children and grandchildren weep over her. “I didn’t want them to mourn me.”

Seungmin nodded at the woman’s soul, “It’s what humans do. It can’t be helped. It simply shows that you were loved.”

Her wavering form seemed to smile up at him. “So are you the terrifying reaper, taking my soul?”

He shrugged, looking back over at the husk that the humans cried around. “I suppose that is what they say about me. Are you ready?”

“More than anything… I suffered long enough. I want to be with my husband again.”

“Just through there,” Seungmin motioned to the doorway of the hospital room, shimmering a white light. “He’s been waiting for you.”

The soul seemed to wriggle in excitement, becoming more and more amorphous as it melded into the white light of the other side, leaving Seungmin behind to once again wander… Watch… Wait…

What an odd thing it was, waiting.

He never knew how much time would pass.

🎃

The tug was there, and he followed it.

Just like always.

He found himself in a park, families with children and dogs with their owners playing all around him. As he settled on a bench, he felt the tug again.

Just in time.

A small brown puppy ran towards him, leash trailing behind.

He would’ve paid no mind. The creature wouldn’t be able to see him anyway.

“Hey! Grab that leash!” A young woman shouted at him.

He really would’ve paid no mind. If the woman hadn’t been able to see him.

For the first time in probably his entire existence, he moved reflexively. He didn’t simply wait. He reacted.

Seungmin grabbed the puppy’s leash in time, and the little dog whirled around in confusion, yipping at—presumably—nothing.

“Oh my god,” the woman gasped, coming to stand in front of him, “Thank you so much…?”

His mouth fell open, eyes wide and disbelieving. “You can see me?”

She plopped down onto the bench beside him, “Um… Yeah… Should I not be able to? Are you a spy or something? Oh shit! Am I blowing your cover?”

Sarcastic. The woman was sarcastic. 

“Anyway, thanks for catching my dog. M is such a troublemaker. He’s always running off… I’m Y/N, by the way.”

Pretty. The woman—Y/N, his brain slowly supplied—was pretty.

“M is a letter.”

She hummed. “Very quick wit you have there, super spy. I wanted to name him M&M, y’know like the candy, since the day I got him he stole an entire bag of them, and then I had to rush him to the emergency vet… But he won’t respond to that. Only M, or just Puppy… If I’m being honest, I think he knows what his name is supposed to be and does it just to annoy me.”

Kind. Y/N was kind.

Wait.

Y/N could see him.

There was his brain coming back online…

How could she see him?

Was she on the cusp of death perhaps? A terminal illness? It would be rude to ask.

It also didn’t feel right. Those who saw him could usually tell who—what—he was. But she simply assumed he was a mortal out for a stroll in the park.

He turned to stare at her. The sun glittered against her skin. She was completely at peace, ethereal, in her human shell.

“You never told me your name.” She finally spoke, standing to leave with her dog.

He hummed but was still in too much of a daze to respond. She left with a shrug and a small laugh.

Dizzying. Her laugh was dizzying.

🎃

Her name had not been on his list, despite the tug he had felt to be in that spot at that moment.

It was as if he was destined to meet her.

But that shouldn’t have been possible.

He didn’t meet people.

He ferried souls. He did his job. He wandered, watched, and waited.

It was too much for him to figure out. Honestly, it was outside of his duties… above his pay grade, so to speak. And yet, it bothered him that he couldn’t do so.

His job continued; the tug reappeared, pulling him to the next soul.

He discounted the experience and moved on.

🎃

“So we meet again?” She tilted her head up at him, eyelashes batting and a playful smile dancing on her lips.

The tug had lied to him again.

He’d been pulled to the front of this ice cream shop, only to arrive at the same moment as the woman from the park.

She could still see him. She still wasn’t a soul. She was still ethereal.

“I don’t know why this keeps happening. You shouldn’t be able to see me.” He muttered, more to himself than to her. She snickered at him anyway.

“So you’re still undercover then? Wait, wait… Am I the target? Is that why I’m not supposed to see you?” She looked around, eyes wide as if she was afraid and searching.

At the furrow of his brows, she laughed and nudged his shoulder. “C’mon. Ice cream is on me, just gotta tell me your name.”

He hesitated, considered leaving. Obviously this was another fluke… And it’s not like he could really enjoy the human treat anyway. But then the tug returned, and it was stronger than it had ever been. It was so persistent, so annoying. He had to follow it. So, he followed her into the shop with a small mutter of, “Seungmin.”

🎃

He had double, no triple, checked his list.

Nowhere to be found was a L/N Y/N.

He had even broken a rule and snuck into The Fates’ hall.

Finding hers amongst the millions of threads should’ve been difficult. Normally, one is only drawn to their own string, and only The Fates themselves can easily identify anyone else’s thread. But…

But, the never-ending tug when it surrounded anything having to do with the chatty, ethereal woman led him right to her string.

It was fine.

It wasn’t frayed like she was near-death or ill. It wasn’t cut like she was deceased and unaware.

Y/N was a normal woman.

Or, as normal a woman could be if they could see, talk to, and feel the Grim Reaper.

🎃

This time he had intentionally followed the tug, knowing it would lead to the enigma in his life.

He shouted her name, stomping through the bar and uncaring of all the people around. They couldn’t hear him anyway.

She turned to him, her furrowed brows eased and a smile lit up her face when she spotted him. She didn’t notice that no one else had reacted to him.

Seungmin nodded towards the side door, and she followed him into the dark alley.

“How did you find me?” She laughed, drunkenly, “Been keeping tabs on me, super spy?”

“Yes.” Seungmin stated, “I need to know how you can see me.”

Y/N groaned, “You’re still playing this game?”

Seungmin huffed, “It’s not a game, Y/N. I–” He hesitated but let out a steady breath, “I am not human. I’m a Grim. I was created by The Fates to ferry souls. You shouldn’t be able to see me unless you are dead… or at least dying.”

Her eyes widened, seemingly terrified, “I’m dying?”

“No!” Seungmin nearly shouted. He was a rational being, but she made him react so strongly. “That’s the problem… Your thread seemed perfectly normal to me. Granted, I don’t work with them. That’s not my job, but it wasn’t frayed or ended.”

“Oh my god,” Y/N let the scared face slip, falling back against the brick wall in another fit of drunken giggles. “Are you insane? You really think you’re the personification of death or something?”

“I’ll prove it.”

And he did. He dragged her back through the bar, snapping in front of people’s faces and tapping on shoulders only to be met with confused glances around. She finally noticed no one reacting to him; she also noticed the crazy looks she got when she reacted and spoke with him.

It was her turn to drag him away, back to the front and into a cab that she shakily hailed.

Y/N remained silent the entire drive, only speaking to the driver.

Once inside her apartment, she let out a heavy breath.

“So I can see ghosts?”

“I’m not a ghost.”

“Well, you’re not a person, Seungmin!”

He rolled his eyes, “I’m aware of that. But I’m not a ghost. Ghost implies that I died and didn’t cross over. That’s not what happened.”

“Okay then, how are you… this?”

Seungmin’s brows furrowed, matching her own confusion. “What do you mean? I’ve always been ‘this.’ I’m a Grim Reaper. That’s how The Fates created me.”

“Okay… Not a ghost. So…” Y/N dropped onto the sofa beside him. “The Fates. You mentioned them earlier too and something about a thread?”

He nodded. “Yes. By all accounts, only beings that have passed and need to cross over can see and interact with a Grim the way you do. In some rare cases, a being that is terminally ill or on the precipice of death will see us as well, but their strings are always fraying. I checked yours since I wondered if that was the case for you; however, your thread seemed to be perfectly intact to me.” 

“So I’m not dead, and you’re not alive… But we’re able to talk?”

“Yes.”

“And that’s a problem?”

“It’s certainly not normal.”

“I see…” Y/N sighed, “Well, what if we just go our separate ways and forget about all of this until I actually am dead?”

“That’s the other thing…” Seungmin hesitated, “I keep getting drawn to you.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, normally, I am drawn to a soul that is needing to cross over. But for some reason, more and more frequently, I am being pulled to you.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, “That’s how you keep finding me… It’s what you meant by ‘keeping tabs.’ And here I thought it was a bunch of coincidental meet-cutes.”

He tilted his head, obviously not understanding, “I don’t follow. A ‘meet-cute’?”

She hummed. “It’s this plot device in movies and stuff where a future couple meet for the first time.”

Seungmin’s expression didn’t falter, but he whispered, “Couple?” to himself regardless. He was aware of the concept, of course, often interacting with sad souls being separated from their earthly partners or excited ones getting to reunite on the other side. But he himself had never considered companionship in depth… Particularly because before now he never thought it would be possible.

“You said those on the precipice of death can sometimes see you…” Y/N finally asked, breaking his lengthy pondering of what it would be like to have someone to wander through life with.

Seungmin noticed the quiver in her voice, the roughness of her tone. He hesitated, if only for a moment, before leaning forward and placing his hand on hers. “Yes, in rare instances. But, I can assure you that your thread was fine. You are not going to die anytime soon, Y/N.”

She shook her head, “That’s– No. I know you said that, and I believe you… I– I trust you. But… When I was little, I was in an accident. The paramedics who responded said my heart had stopped. I was dead for three minutes. Could that be some kind of exception?”

“I– I don’t know, Y/N.” Seungmin floundered. All of this was unprecedented for him too.

“Who would know?”

“The Fates.”

Y/N sighed, “I was afraid you were going to say that…” She stood from her sofa, trading her uncomfortable heels for sneakers. “Alright, let’s go.”

“Go?” Seungmin sputtered with wide eyes as he trailed her to the front door. It was the most reaction she had seen out of him; the most… human, he had seemed. And the cutest, if she was able to think about anything other than the fact that he was a Grim Reaper.

She shrugged, grabbing his hand without thinking to pull him to the elevator. “They are the only ones who know the answers to what is going on with us. So you’re going to take us to them, and we’ll get this sorted out.”

Seungmin gaped at you, “You’re insane.”

“Maybe.”

🎃

“Whoa…” Y/N breathed, staring up at the massive doors in front of her. “So this is the underworld?”

Seungmin shook his head, “Not exactly. It’s The Fates’ hall. It exists outside of your space and reality, a place that the trinity can weave time for mortals. It’s where I first remember… waking up.”

“Right. Well let’s go in.” She huffed, pushing forward as Seungmin’s eyes widened.

“Wha– You– We can’t just go in!”

She shrugged. “Why not?” Y/N asked, opening the doors and stepping through.

“Because it’s against th–”

“It’s about time you two showed up.” A voice spoke, reverberating down the neverending hall.

Y/N paused, gaping as she took in the millions of red threads strung around. Many of them crossed over one another, some tangling together and some fully knotted. There were strings dangling pitifully, obviously ended, and others clearly fraying and barely holding together.

What Seungmin had mentioned came to mind, settling like a rock in the pit of her stomach at how many people were so close to death without even knowing.

Another heavy feeling settled as she gazed over to the Grim, unaffected by the threads as he led her through the maze of red. How many people had he helped cross? How much death had he been around? How long had he been without real connection as the only beings that could speak with him were meant to leave immediately?

“Don’t think too hard, dear.” An elderly woman smiled up at her from a rocking chair, happily snipping a thread.

“Yes, child, you won’t likely remember any of those dreadful thoughts once you leave our chambers.” Another, middle-aged, woman spoke as she measured the string she was holding.

Y/N’s eyes widened, head shaking lightly to clear her jumbled mind, “Who–”

“Who are we?” The final woman, young—barely a woman—spoke, while she wove the red strings. “You know who we are. We’re The Fates. We’re time and destiny. And you are here because you are wondering how you can see our Grim Reaper.”

She nodded, unable to find words. Seungmin, likewise, remained silent. In all his existence, he had never directly met with The Fates.

The elderly woman tutted gently to capture the mortal and reaper’s attentions. “The Grim… Sorry, Seungmin… is a bit confused about his origins. We didn’t create him. He was a mortal once.”

“I was a what?!” Seungmin interjected.

“Hush child, don’t interrupt your elders.” The middle-aged woman scolded.

The young woman continued, “Yes, it’s true. We did not create you. You were once a man who cut his own thread, so-to-speak…”

“That’s to say that you unfortunately took your own life, dear. And, the punishment for this sin is to be reincarnated as a Grim Reaper…”

“You were assigned an undetermined amount of time assisting souls pass on. To not know rest, child.”

“But, a few years ago, we decided you earned your second chance… If you could reconcile with the soulmate that you so cruelly left behind in your last life.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered between The Fates as they stared at her meaningfully. “Oh my god… You mean me?”

“Yes, dear. You and Seungmin are a destined pair. Would you like to see your threads?”

She nodded dumbly, while Seungmin gaped. “I– But I looked at her thread, and I didn’t notice anything odd…”

“Well of course you wouldn’t, child. It’s not your job to read the strings.”

Before Seungmin could argue further, the hallway around them shifted, the strings around them changing. The scenery settled, and the middle-aged woman held two threads gently. She motioned Seungmin and Y/N over, allowing them to follow her explanation with a demonstration.

“This was your original thread, so beautifully woven and tied together, until…” She held the end of one of the threads, cut short as the other continued on, fraying slowly. “You cut your string, while your soulmate continued on, decaying from heartbreak. You were changed into a Grim Reaper shortly after, and we created a new thread from you.”

“And then,” The young woman continued, as the scenery changed once more. Seungmin recognized the two threads she now held, “Your soulmate was reborn.”

The Fates admired their handiwork on Seungmin and Y/N’s strings, tracing over where Y/N’s was cut and retied—explaining it was from her near-death experience.

“It wasn’t quite your time, dear. I apologize for being a bit scissor-happy. But, it was also a way for us to ensure our sweet Grim and you become more easily tangled later on.”

The two threads continued on, crossing over multiple times to signify each time Seungmin was pulled to her, and The Fates held them both tightly together as they stood still in time with each other in the hall.

“What happens now?” Seungmin whispered finally.

“Well, that will be up to you and your soulmate, child. Ideally, you two will continue on your journey together and strengthen your bond to grant you mortality.”

Y/N gasped, backing away into the maze of red string, “This is… a lot…”

Seungmin turned to follow her, making sure she safely made it back to the entryway, “I’m sorry if you feel you have no choice. I had no idea…”

She smiled sadly. “It’s not that, Seungmin. I actually like you… getting past all of this,” she gestured at the hall behind them, “I just don’t want to feel like we’re only together because it was forced by destiny.”

“We’re not.”

Y/N scoffed, “How can you be sure?”

Seungmin shrugged, “If we were being forced, we would’ve seen the rest of our threads woven together already. They aren’t yet because The Fates are giving us a choice.”

Y/N huffed at his blase attitude towards all of this, “Do you even like me, Seungmin?”

“What?” Seungmin’s eyes widened, “Of course I do! You were so kind to me, even when you thought I was crazy and kept following you. And then, all of this, you’ve been so brave and patient. You have such a light heart and not to mention how beautiful you are. You’re ethereal to me. Just unreal. I just…” Seungmin sighed, “I won’t force you into anything for my sake when all of this was my fault to begin with.”

“I don’t want you to be alone anymore…” Y/N whispered.

“I don’t mind. I’m used to it.”

“I don’t want to be alone anymore either…” She added, stepping closer.

“Then you won’t be. We can wander together.”

#stray kids #skz #kim seungmin #reader #kim seungmin x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #angst #fluff #grim reaper au #soulmate au #oneshot #fictober

[sjsmith56]

Faces of Bucky Barnes

Summary: One shot of an interaction with the multiverse that affects Bucky Barnes during a tough time in his life.

Length: 7.4 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes from 2024, Bucky Barnes from 1938, Jim Barnes (son of another AU Bucky from 1971), Bucky Barnes from 1998 (AU).

Warnings: some references to drug use, domestic abuse, alcohol abuse, and suicide but it’s not really a dark fic.

Author notes: Set at the same time as Spider-Man: No Way Home but only connected in a roundabout way. Also slightly connected to What If? Season 2, Episode 2, What If? ... Peter Quill Attacked Earth's Mightiest Heroes.   Images in the banner were created by the author using the Microsoft Copilot App in Designer mode.

🌃 🌉 🥡

It was Bucky's favourite place to go when he needed to get out of his head for a while. A rooftop on an empty warehouse that overlooked an approach to the Brooklyn Bridge was the perfect location to sit at night and see the bridge that he had grown up with all those years ago, before the war, before HYDRA, before the Avengers. Before everything became fucked up again.

This time, it was Alexander Ross who set in motion the latest attempt to rope Bucky into doing something he didn't want to do. The man just wouldn't take no for an answer.

"You served your country before, then you served HYDRA. I'm just asking you to serve your country again. Then we'll call it even."

Those were his exact words. As if Bucky's service in World War II wasn't enough, all by itself. As if fighting Thanos twice and containing the Flag Smashers also wasn't enough. Why couldn't Bucky just be left alone to do what he wanted? Why couldn't he tinker with old cars and motorcycles, keeping them in good repair for enthusiasts who still appreciated how things were made before. The sound of a siren on the bridge caught his attention and he focused on a police car in pursuit of someone. That part was still very much the same now as it had been then, even though the subway cars and vehicles crossing the bridge looked different. There were always going to be people who lived on the wrong side of the law and those who would hunt them down.

Why did Ross think it should be him doing the hunting? The man wouldn't even say who it was he wanted Bucky to hunt down but deep down the super soldier knew that Ross saw a lot of good people as enemies and that's what bothered him the most. For all he knew Ross wanted Bucky to go after Sam, or even Peter Parker, and that would never happen.

Peter Parker, that kid was facing problems just as bad as Bucky had it. He just couldn't seem to catch a break. Why couldn't they leave him alone as well? Let him go to college, marry his girlfriend, have a family. He was a good kid, and a smart one. But no, certain segments of society were out to pigeon-hole him as a threat.

"Stop," he said out loud. "Breathe. Peter will be okay. You can tell Ross no and you'll be okay. Life will go on."

A sound of a portal opening behind him made him shake his head. How did the sorcerers always find him? He turned around to see if it was Dr. Strange or Wong, but he didn't expect to see what he saw there and stood up, facing the young man, with his face, his much younger face, dressed in a brown suit.

"What just happened?" The younger version asked, his face a mask of surprise. "I'm in Brooklyn, cuz that's the Brooklyn Bridge so that must be Manhattan but it ain't nothin' like the New York I know. Who are you?"

His Brooklyn accent was strong, much stronger than Bucky's accent of 2024. He studied the current version carefully, lingering on his eyes, recognizing him. Approaching him where he stood near the edge, he looked up at him, puzzled that this older man with his face was taller.

"Are you me?"

Fuck it. The guy just walked through a portal from the 1930s based on that suit that Bucky remembered wearing then.

"James Buchanan Barnes, born March 10, 1917, is the day I was born, in Indiana," replied Bucky. "Moved here when I was a little kid. You?"

"Same," he replied. "You're older and taller than me and dressed different. What year is it?"

Older Bucky smiled a little. He read a lot of science and fantasy fiction when he was younger so the thought of it being a different year obviously came easily to his other self.

"2024, and before you say that makes me 107 years old, yes, I am that, technically. But there's a reason I'm still alive and I'm not sure I'm supposed to tell you. What I can do is phone someone to get you back home."

The younger Bucky smirked. "Hate to break it to you, pal, but there ain't a pay phone up here."

It was older Bucky's turn to smirk as he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialled Dr. Strange. His smirk turned to a frown as the call went to voice mail.

"Hey, Strange, it's Bucky Barnes," he said into the phone. God, he hated voice mail. "I'm talking to a version of myself from ...." He looked at his younger self. "What year exactly are you from?"

"1938, was headed out for my 21st birthday party. Supposed to pick up Steve then meet Dot and a bunch of friends at a dance hall in Rockaway Beach."

Fuck, he was such a punk then. "The younger version of me says he's from 1938. Are you messing around with the multiverse again? Call me back, or better yet, get over here. I'll keep my phone on so you can locate it."

He hung up then noticed his younger self looking curiously at it.

"It's called a cell phone. There aren't many pay phones these days as nearly everyone has their own personal phone, even homeless people. It's used for more than that. You can pull up maps, watch movies, television shows, play games, even pay for things."

He shrugged. The younger man looked back at the Manhattan skyline, his eyes taking it all in.

"I can still see the Empire State Building and the Chrysler Building," he said, "but look at the height on some of those others. People live in those?"

"Most are office buildings," replied older Bucky. He sighed. "Not sure what's going on as you shouldn't be here. The guy I phoned is a sorcerer acquaintance. He should be getting back to me."

"Sorcerer? Seriously? They're around in the future?"

"They were around in the past," said older Bucky, "but more hidden and secretive. The ones now have had to be more visible because of ... stuff."

The sound of another portal behind them had them both turning to the source. Young Bucky's face transformed into something incredulous as the telltale sparkle of light appeared and grew larger, except it wasn't a sorcerer who came through. It was another version of Bucky, definitely from the multiverse because he was young, but he looked like he came from the 1960s or 1970s, as he had long hair, a Fu Manchu moustache and wore bell bottom jeans and a jean jacket. He came through, watching the sparkling circle close then noticed the others standing there.

"Far out," he said, as the portal closed behind him. "That was some trip." He noticed the 1930s version of himself. "Cool threads, man. Got a 1930s vibe going there." He looked closer at the two of them. "Weird. You look like me, except you're older and you're younger. Dude, what's happening?"

"Did you understand that?" asked 1938 Bucky.

"Some of it," said original modern Bucky. "Not sure what's going on, but I think you two appeared here from your original universes. What year was it before you came through the portal?"

"1971," replied the long-haired version. "I smoked up a little while ago, thought maybe I was hallucinating. This is real? What year?"

"2024," answered 1938 Bucky as he glanced at original Bucky. "He smells of reefer."

"Reefer." The long-haired man laughed. "They haven't called it that since the 1940s. What do they call it now?"

"Weed, mostly or cannabis," said original Bucky, sighing. "Can't believe I'm having this conversation. It's legal now, at least in New York, so they refer to it by brand names as well."

"No shit!" The long-haired man laughed again. "Like, you can buy it in a store?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

Bucky dialled Dr. Strange again, getting another voice mail prompt which made him hang up. This was definitely a multiverse thing but the fact there was a version of him that was born after the war meant he wasn't just in his original time frame. He was in different ones as well. Unless ... this guy was his kid.

"What's your name, when were you born and who were your parents?" he asked. "Sorry, just trying to keep things straight."

"Jim Barnes, Jr., born in 1950," said the long hair version. "My dad was James Buchanan Barnes, Sr., and my mother was Dolores Barnes. They split up when I was about 10.

Fuck, this guy was his kid. 1938 Bucky glanced at him, obviously thinking the same thing, as he mouthed Dolores' nickname, Dot.

"Why did they split up?"

"My dad was never right after the war," said Jim. "Lost his best friend in 1945 when he fell off a train during a mission. Tried to drink himself to death but never seemed to get there. He could out drink anyone, so he just got angry and eventually it got too dangerous for us to be around him. Us three kids stayed with Mom." He shrugged. "Not sure I'll be seeing any of them any time soon. I decided to go to Canada when I got my draft notice. It's just a matter of when."

Modern Bucky felt his stomach do a flip. Steve must have fallen off the train in this man's timeline, an event that obviously affected him deeply. This son of his was 21, in 1971. It meant he likely was drafted into the Vietnam War and didn't want to go. He glanced at the 1938 version of himself, who was frowning at this revelation.

"It was because of a war in Southeast Asia," Bucky murmured. "By all accounts it wasn't supported too well by the population. Some burned their draft cards and went to Canada. Stayed there, too." He looked at Jim sympathetically. "Can I ask you something? Are you strong? Like really strong? Can you handle your alcohol well?"

"Yeah," said the younger man suspiciously. "Takes a lot to get me buzzed. Sometimes, it's not worth the trouble." He frowned. "I'm not a coward. I am strong but I don't want to fight anyone. It's a bogus war, man. Rich boys can get deferments or get into the Coast Guard or the National Guard and not have to go over but even they've been involved in some killings. The killing of those four students in Ohio last year was the last straw for me. I'm not firing against American citizens."

His dad obviously never told anyone about what HYDRA did to him and he passed on his abilities to his kids. No wonder he was trying to drink himself to death. The guilt over Steve's death ... wait, if Steve fell, did he become.... He shook his head, clearing that thought.

"Your dad, is he still alive?"

Jim swallowed, looked at the Brooklyn Bridge with obvious pain then back at Bucky.

"No, he put a bullet in his head a couple of years ago, after my older brother Steve came back from Vietnam missing an arm. That's another reason I'm not going. If anything happened to me, it would kill my mom and as fucked up as I am, I do love her. I love Steve and Rebecca as well."

Bucky placed his hand on Jim's shoulder, patting it sympathetically. The sound of another portal drew all of their attention as the circle formed. What stepped out shocked Bucky, as this version of him wore a uniform that was obviously his universe's version of Captain America, complete with a dull silver-coloured prosthetic arm. His hair, longer than Bucky's but shorter than Jim's was clean and somewhat styled. He looked startled at the 1938 version of Bucky, then puzzled at Jim Barnes. Finally, he noticed modern Bucky, specifically the metal hand and approached him.

"What year?" he asked, gesturing to the skyline.

"2024," replied modern Bucky. "I've been out of HYDRA for ten years. You?"

"1998. I was sent to be Russia's contribution to a threat to the world in 1988 and escaped but I ended up in a car accident a couple of years later. Went into a coma. When I woke up it was 1994 and my old arm was gone but Tony Stark made me a new one. Somehow the damage that put me into a coma neutralized the trigger words. Peggy Carter asked me to be Captain America for the Avengers. What else was I going to do?" He shook his head then looked at the two younger men as they stood gazing at the Manhattan skyline, so different from what they were used to. "I take it these two are other versions of ourselves."

"Not exactly," said Bucky, gesturing to the 1938 version. "He's an original. The other one is our son. In his universe, Steve fell off the train and we tried to drink ourselves to death, never telling anyone what we were or accepting it."

"Shit, does he have ...?"

Modern Bucky nodded. "We should tell him, as it appears he's self-medicating a lot, unsuccessfully. Mind you it's 1971 in his world and he's just made the decision to be a draft dodger." He hesitated for a moment. "My words are gone as well, courtesy of a brilliant scientist. She designed this arm for me. You should know that Steve is alive."

"What? They said he was lost in a plane crash in 1945."

"Frozen in the ice. In this universe, they find him in 2011 and thaw him out. The serum kept him alive. He stayed here until last year then went back in time to be with Peggy. Cap in this time is another guy, Sam Wilson. He has wings."

"They didn't ask you?"

Bucky shrugged, then looked over to the Brooklyn Bridge. "Too messed up in my own head. I killed a lot, including Howard and his wife, in my timeline. I remember them all."

"I'm sorry." Cap Bucky placed a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "You are a good man. I killed a lot for HYDRA as well, but Peggy never held that against me. Neither do the other Avengers. I guess Howard died of cancer when I was in a coma. What you do in the here and now is what should define you. Easier said, I know, but still true." He took a breath. "So, what are we going to do? Sit here and wait for a sorcerer to appear? I could use something to eat."

Bucky looked at the others. "You guys hungry? I don't live too far. We could pick up some takeout and beer. I left a message for Dr. Strange. Once he checks his messages he should come and help get you back to where you belong."

"Food is good," said 1930s Bucky. "What's takeout?"

The other three smiled the same lopsided smile and Bucky gestured to follow him down a fire escape. They stopped at a Korean place that was still open, with the proprietor waving to Bucky from the kitchen, as he was a regular customer. He ordered several servings of everything, knowing that three of the four of them could easily finish it, choosing Korean fried chicken, beef and pork bulgogi, green onion cakes, japchae, bibimbap with rice, and kimchi. Although the staff gave the other three some second and third looks, they didn't say anything.

"This universe has seen some strange things, including aliens, androids and sorcerers," explained modern Bucky. "Seeing three other versions of me doesn't even come close to weird."

After dividing the food bags between them they made one more stop at a 24-hour liquor store with Bucky getting a couple of six packs of beer and a bottle of bourbon. They crammed into the elevator of his building.

"I only have a one-bedroom place," said Bucky. "Not much furniture but I'm good on the floor if you others want to take a chair. I'm living on an army pension so it's what I could afford."

When he handed off the food and booze to the others to unlock the door, he opened it and stepped back to let them in first. They filed in, dropping everything off on the small kitchen island.

"This is nice," said 1930s Bucky. "Clean, small but if it's just you it's enough. Nicer than that slum Steve is living in."

Both modern Bucky and Cap Bucky nodded, remembering that tenement room their best friend insisted on living in. Taking his meagre assortment of glasses out, Bucky poured out some bourbon in each one, holding his glass in front of him.

"Here's mud in your eye," he said, draining it in one gulp. "They've been kind enough to provide us four servings of rice, just take what you want from each of the other containers and dig in."

For the next few minutes there was no sound as they all went after the food, transferring portions into their individual rice boxes. Modern Bucky sat on the floor, leaning against the wall as the other three took the armchair, and the two dining table chairs that were there. Cap Bucky eyed the bedding on the floor.

"Sleeping there?"

"Yeah, bed's too soft," replied modern Bucky. "I manage a few hours every night."

Jim swallowed his food and looked critically at the two artificial arms. "What's with the arms?"

"Not sure I can tell you, exactly," said Cap Bucky. "Let's just say this Bucky and I have a shared experience where we lost our flesh arms, went through some shit, then got a new life and new arms in the process."

"Were you born in 1917 as well?" asked 1930s Bucky. "He already told me."

"Yeah, I was. Don't know if you'll go through what we went through. Jim's dad didn't, at least not the way we did."

"He had both of his original arms," said Jim. "But he was one angry guy. Ma said before the war he was a lot of fun but after ... he was a different man. She still loved him, but he hurt her and us, more than once."

"I would never hit a woman," stated 1930s Bucky. "Not Dot, I loved her."

The other two Bucky's looked meaningfully at each other. On a hunch, modern Bucky signed to Cap Bucky, who sat back and watched, nodding his head. He signed back, as the other two realized what they were doing.

"What can it hurt?" asked modern Bucky, verbally. "They've already seen two different versions of us, and how New York looks in the 21st century. Maybe, this Bucky is this guy's dad. If he understands what might happen, he can deal with it better, and I'm sure Jim would like to understand more of what his dad went through that made him the way he is. It can help him with his own timeline and whether he should go to Canada."

The bright blue eyes of Cap Bucky seemed to harden for a moment then they softened.

"Alright, we tell them both everything," he said. "We can't change our past but maybe we can change their futures."

For the rest of that night, the two Bucky's with prosthetic arms told their stories, amazing each other with the synchronization of their journeys until Cap Bucky's took a turn when he listened to Howard Stark and didn't kill a boy who only wanted to get back home to Earth. Both 1930s Bucky and Jim Barnes questioned them about details, about the things that they wished they had done. By sunrise, the 1930s Bucky had loosened his shirt and tie and was lying on top of the double bed in the bedroom. Jim Barnes had taken his boots and jacket off and was lying next to him curled up with his hand hanging over the edge. Cap and Modern Bucky still sat in the living room, leaning against the open wall, while finishing the bourbon.

"So, where exactly is Steve in 1998?" asked Cap.

"Buried in a glacier in the Arctic," said Bucky, reaching for one of his notebooks and tearing a sheet out. "Here's the coordinates." He watched as Cap looked at it, folded it up and placed inside a hidden pocket. "They were on a display in the Smithsonian. He's alive and they should be able to resuscitate him. I don't know if your universe will go through with what mine did but if it does, aliens start to show up in 2011, then Tony tries to make Ultron in 2014 to protect the Earth. Instead, Ultron went a little crazy and decided to kill humans. Aliens start looking for the stones ... that blue Tesseract is one of them ... and Thanos comes calling in 2018. If he does, remember to go for the head. Don't let him snap his fingers or else half of all life, everywhere, is just gone."

"What about you?" There was sympathy and understanding in Cap Bucky's eyes. "What's going on with you?"

"A powerful man wants me to work for him." Bucky looked at his metal hand. "By work, I think he means for me to hunt other enhanced individuals and bring them together so that he can control them. I don't want to do it but he's in a position to make my life miserable if I don't." He looked around at his little flat. "This isn't what I ever envisioned for myself. I'm 107 years old, living on an army pension that barely pays the bills, while waiting on the army to give me my back pay for all the years I was basically a prisoner of war. Half of society thinks I should have been shot for what I did as the Winter Soldier, and the other half are indifferent to my existence."

"You have friends though, right?" Modern Bucky felt his face get warm. "You don't think you're worthy of friendship, do you?" Cap sipped his bourbon, thoughtfully. "Obviously, I didn't kill as many people as you did when HYDRA, then Russia had me in their control, but the body count was still up there. I became a kind of vigilante when I first got away from them. I could hear calls for help and would get to people who were being assaulted. I hid myself a lot. Then, I got hit by an armoured truck and knocked out. Stayed that way for four years. When I woke up, Peggy Carter was sitting next to my bed. Tony showed up within the hour. A few of the Howlies showed up, old men all of them, but they were so happy to see me. None of them ever forgot about me and Peggy apologized for not looking for me, even though she suspected who the Winter Soldier was years later. I could have been angry, but the fact was that I could have also escaped sooner than I did. I just convinced myself that I was too far gone and not worth saving. I was wrong. Don't give up on life, Buck. If you don't want to do what this guy wants you to do, then don't do it. Call in your friends, tell the newspapers, expose his plans to the daylight. Fight for your right to have a life, to be just another face in the crowd."

"You make it sound easy." Bucky sighed. "I'm just tired of it. You know what I really want to do? Fix motorcycles and cars from the 1930s and 40s, find an understanding woman who doesn't mind listening to the old music with me, maybe dinner out or dancing once in a while, having a couple of kids and playing catch with them in the back yard. Getting old ... God, how I want to grow old." He rubbed his face. "Sounds pathetic."

"No, not at all," smiled Cap Bucky. "Sounds pretty perfect to me."

A portal began forming in Bucky's living room and both men stood up. Dr. Strange strode through.

"I got your message," he said, taking in Cap Bucky. "How many?"

"Three, although one of them isn't me. He's, my son."

Strange frowned. "Your son ... interesting. Well, get them out here and I'll send them back."

Modern Bucky went into the bedroom while Cap Bucky stayed out in the living room with Dr. Strange.

"Can you do me a favour?" he asked. "Is there any way you can make him appear like another face in the crowd?"

"That's what got me into this mess," said Strange. "A similar request from another person. You mean, no one would know who he is?"

"I mean, I think he would want to keep his friends because he doesn't have many and he shouldn't have to start at the beginning to find new ones." A crease appeared in Cap's forehead between his eyes. "All he wants is to live in peace, fix old vehicles, find the right woman and grow old. Is that too much to ask?"

Strange looked carefully at this version of Bucky, noticing the uniform. He had obviously come to terms with his own past if he was Captain America in another universe. The Bucky from this universe came out of the bedroom followed by a younger version of him from what appeared to be the 1930s and another from the 1970s. They were both rubbing their eyes as if they had been asleep for a while. The younger Bucky's eyes grew large at the sight of Dr. Strange.

"Sorcerer?" Modern Bucky nodded making the 1930s version grin. "Far out."

Jim Barnes grinned at the use of his term by the older Bucky. "He doesn't look like Gandalf."

"None of us do," deadpanned Strange. "Alright, let's get you two back to where you belong. No talking about what you've seen or heard. Frankly, people in your times will think you've had a psychiatric episode if you do, so keep it quiet."

With a wave of his hand the first portal opened, and 1930s Bucky quickly shook hands with the others before stepping through. Once that portal closed, he opened another one for Jim Barnes who looked thoughtfully at the two Bucky's then waved when he stepped back into 1971. Cap Bucky extended his metal arm to modern Bucky and the two men with the shared HYDRA past grasped each other's arms before releasing them. After he stepped through the portal only Bucky and Dr. Strange were left.

"Busy night?"

"You don't know the half of it," said Strange. "Is everything alright, with you, I mean."

"Thaddeus Ross is pressuring me to join his "team," said Bucky. "I think he wants to use me to hunt down enhanced individuals. Even though the Sokovia Accords are toast he still wants control of us."

"What do you want?"

"To find my own way, one that doesn't involve hurting people, or having to justify why I should be allowed to live," said Bucky, frowning. "I just want the life I was supposed to have if HYDRA never get their claws into me, unless I ended up a serial killer anyways, because I don't want that."

"That's fair," said Strange. "Excuse me for a moment." Bucky watched as the sorcerer did his thing with the Time Stone. When he came out of his momentary review of time, he looked at Bucky and smiled. "I don't think you have to worry about Thaddeus Ross too much. As for the rest, I'm sure things will look better. How was it visiting with two versions of yourself and a version of your son?"

"Interesting," admitted Bucky. "I should try to get some sleep. Cap and I stayed up all night comparing our HYDRA experiences. I'm glad to see another version of me got away from them."

Dr. Strange said nothing, just smiled his grim smile, opened a portal and stepped through.

March 15, 1938

"So, there's no connection between having your birthday celebration now and the Ides of March?" asked Steve as the two friends headed to the train station. "I was surprised when you canceled out last weekend."

"Nope, unless you're all planning to stab me in the back," said Bucky, waving to Dot and her friend. "Now, Margie is shy like you, but she's into art. Dot says she's always drawing something."

"She looks nice." Steve blushed as his friend put his arm around his shoulder and drew up to the two young women. "Hi, Dot."

"Hey, Stevie," she said, after receiving a kiss on the cheek from Bucky. "This is my friend Margie. She's in the art program at Pratt."

"Yeah?" His face brightened. "I just had a year at Auburndale but couldn't afford another year."

"Auburndale's good," said Margie, liking Steve's blue eyes and ready smile. "I was lucky to get a scholarship to Pratt. What's your favourite medium?"

Steve offered her his arm as they went up the steps. Bucky took Dot's hand, pulling her towards him, and wrapping his arms around her.

"Thanks for waiting until this weekend and finding him a date. I didn't want Steve to feel like a third wheel."

She shrugged; her red hair vibrant under the streetlight. "I don't know why I didn't think of pairing them together before. They're alike in many ways. Steve's a good guy. He just needs to loosen up a bit."

Bucky grinned then his face grew serious as he gazed at her. "I love you; you know. Have for a long time."

Her face changed at his declaration, as she smiled then placed her hand on his cheek. "I love you, too, Bucky. Now let's go dancing."

With their arms around each other they followed the other couple up the stairs to the elevated train station, waiting for the one that would take them to the dance hall at Rockaway Beach, the second dance of the spring season.

April 7, 1971

Jim stepped off the train, placing his satchel over his shoulder as he walked towards the exit. When he stepped back into his time after being in the future, he wasn't sure what to expect. But ending up in the library at Brooklyn College wasn't it. Hopefully, he still lived in the same house with his mother, brother Steve and sister Rebecca. On the train ride to their neighbourhood, he thought over what happened to him. It had been an interesting experience, that was for sure. Perhaps, he could write about it in his journalism class. His stop came up and he made his way to the door, stepping out into the cool spring evening air. It was only a short walk from the station to the house.

"You got mail!" His mother called as he stepped inside.

How she always knew it was him coming in was interesting. He looked at the return address, Department of Defence. Shit, it was his draft notice. His last deferment didn't go through. Stopping dead in the hallway in front of the stairs he stared at the envelope wondering whether to open it.

"You better deal with it sooner rather than later," said a familiar voice that shocked him.

"Dad? I thought ...."

His dad put his finger up to his mouth. "It's me," he whispered. "It's been hard waiting for this day, waiting for this version of you to come home and know the truth. I remembered what you wore that night."

"I thought we couldn't change our past," said Jim, as his dad took him by the elbow into the living room.

"I changed my future and that changed yours, but you had to get back here to know it," said the older Barnes. "I didn't join the 107th. I became a pilot and Steve became a reporter, drawing comics of the various soldiers he met as he covered the war. Some other guy became Captain America. Some other guy became the Winter Soldier. It still worked out for them because they were different guys, and their futures were different than ours."

"But our Steve still lost his arm," said Jim.

"Yeah, but he didn't lose us because I didn't lose your mom and you kids. We got him through it, and we'll get you through whatever that letter says." He placed his calloused hand on his son's face. "I think that's why you were there so that I would know you, know what you went through as a kid because of how I dealt with the things that happened to me in your timeline. I've tried really hard to be a good man, Jim."

His eyes were glassy as he said it and the two men hugged. Then Jim opened the envelope and pulled out the letter, making a sigh of relief.

"Coast Guard," he said. "They've taken my ... when did I become an experienced sailor?"

"Since I started taking you kids out on sailboats when you were kids," smiled Bucky. "Don't worry, it should come to you, once you integrate into this timeline. Your brother, Steve, ended up on a patrol boat in the Vietnamese river system, lost his arm when he was shot from the shore. With the Coast Guard, you could end up working from home. You don't have to go to Canada, although you'll have to cut your hair and shave that monstrosity off your face."

His grin showed Jim that his dad was joking, and they hugged again. Both men thought back to that night when they went from their respective times into the future and met two other Bucky's who had gone through hell. Something drew them there, to fix both of them, and to fix what was wrong between them. It was meant to be.

May 17, 1998

Bucky was with the team when they located the Valkyrie just under the top layer of the glacier. It had shrunk from when the aircraft crash landed into it in 1945. Since then, the one wing tip was slowly exposed, to the point where it showed up on an aerial survey done by the Greenland parks service, close to the coordinates given to Bucky in 2024. Carefully they had used steam to thaw out the door into the large aircraft, finding it mostly undamaged inside, although a lot of ice had built up from all the water that seeped in from the glacier. Then a corporal called to them when he spied the shield and Bucky hurried over there, brushing the frost away from the body that lay encased in ice under the shield.

"Steve," he whispered, confirming his identity.

The extraction team came in, carefully unthawing the ice several inches underneath the frozen remains, then lifting the icy block onto a stretcher, then into a Chinook helicopter. Bucky sat near Steve's body, watching as the block of ice was wrapped in thermal blankets to slow down the rate of the ice melting so it was gradual and wouldn't put his body into shock. By the time the large helicopter landed in Thule, they had the special medical unit set up, with Peggy and Tony waiting as Steve's body was wheeled in. None of them slept well over that week as they did everything they could to keep the thawing process stable. When the decision was made to start warming the body they waited anxiously, hoping that the information given to Bucky was accurate. Ten days after he was transported there, Steve Rogers opened his eyes and saw himself in a hospital room, with tubes and IV lines coming in and out of his body. He shifted, setting up a bunch of alarms, which brought a number of people running. The person he noticed first was already there, with a head of dark hair, long in length, a several day-old beard, and the blue eyes of his best friend, Bucky.

"Hey punk," said that best friend, grinning at him. "I thought I told you not to do anything stupid until I got back."

"Buck." Steve tried to raise himself, but several hands came out to stop him. "You're alive. You fell."

"Yeah, I did." Bucky smiled sadly. "I'll tell you about it later. The important thing is that we found you. A lot has happened since you went into the ice, but now that you're here, I think things are going to look up."

The two friends looked at each other with affection. Catching up would have to wait, as a team of medical personnel arrived to document the momentous occasion when a frozen body was successfully reanimated after over 50 years encased in the ice. It was one for the history books.

May 31, 2024

It had been almost two weeks since that night when the three portals discharged the two Bucky's and Jim Barnes on the rooftop of the building. Bucky had kept a low profile since then, although he phoned Sam, telling him about Ross's ultimatum to him. Sam was angry about that and raised a very public stink, which made Ross back off, although Bucky still had the feeling someone was watching him from afar. More than likely, he was being paranoid. On this Friday morning, he got up, hearing about a particular motorcycle for sale in Bensonhurst. When he got off the train he began the short walk to the shop. Frowning at the Closed sign on it when he arrived, he peeked inside the window, then noticed a back door was open. Heading around to the back he saw a woman, sitting in a lawn chair, with her feet up on a crate, a coffee on another crate while she closed her eyes in the sun.

"Excuse me," he said, making her eyes open, frowning at him. "I called about the World War II motorcycle. The man said I could come this morning to look at it."

She ran her eyes over him, then sighed. "That was likely my deadbeat brother. He's taken the bike. Said he had a buyer for it in the Bronx. Personally, I think he took it to his loan shark, to pay off some of his debt. Sorry that you came all this way for nothing." She shook her head, seeming to fight off some tears. "Hell of a way to run a business but what do I know? My dad left it to both of us and he's running it into the ground, while I'm trying to make it a going concern."

"Well, I guess the price he quoted was too good to be true," said Bucky. "I'm sorry to bother you."

He turned to leave but she called out to him. "Hey mister? There's another classic motorcycle in there. Needs some work but whatever price you want to pay for it, I'm willing to let it go for that. Otherwise, the bank will just seize it when they foreclose."

"I don't want to take advantage of your situation," said Bucky.

She stood up, surprising him with her height as she was only a couple of inches shorter than him.

"Come in and have a look at it, you never know," she replied, walking towards the open door to the shop.

They stepped inside and right away, Bucky felt comfortable with all the motorcycles in various states of repair. He saw several from the 1940s as well as some 1950s models. She stopped beside a silver motorcycle that seemed to be complete, a 1958 Triumph Tiger 100. He kneeled down, looking carefully at the engine, then stood up and examined the finishings.

"She's beautiful," he said. "What's left to do?"

The woman shrugged. "Honestly? I'm not sure what I'm missing. She starts up fine, then about a mile into the ride she starts running rough and by the time I get her back here she gives up the ghost. I've put a lot of time into restoring her but I'm missing something."

"You're the mechanic?" He noticed her look of dismay at his comment. "I'm not being critical. I'm impressed." He stuck his hand out. "Bucky."

"Angel," she replied, shaking his hand, then noticing his smile. "Yeah, it's my real name. I guess my great grandpa took one look at me when he came to the hospital just after I was born and said I was an angel. He's the one who started this shop, after World War II. He was responsible for the motor pool for the Howling Commandos, Sergeant Bruno Moretti."

She pointed to a large, framed photograph on the wall. With a smile, Bucky went over to it, grinning at the picture of the Howling Commandos as he bent closer to it. That's when Angel saw him in the picture, then looked back and forth between the man standing beside her and the man on the old photograph.

"You're Bucky Barnes."

"Yeah," he replied, then straightened up. "You're Sarge's great granddaughter. Did you know him?"

"No, he died when I was about a year old. Grandpa told me his stories about the Howlies ... that's what you called yourselves, right?"

Bucky nodded his head, feeling nostalgic at the moment. "They were a good group of guys. Sarge always kept us supplied with working vehicles. Didn't even mind when I would tinker with the motorcycles. Showed me a few things as well. Sometimes, I'm amazed I still remember it."

"Well, you've been through a lot," replied Angel. "It must be hard at times, stuck in a future that is so different. Sometimes .... Never mind." She looked away, slightly embarrassed.

"No, it's okay," said Bucky. "What were you going to say?"

"Well, sometimes I feel like I'm out of my right time," she said. "I mean, I like the old music, and even though I'm a mechanic, I'm kind of a girlie girl when I'm not knuckle deep in a greasy engine. It must be worse for you sometimes. I imagine you missed out on a lot of things because of what happened to you." She looked away again. "Sorry, I'm babbling."

"I don't mind. You're honest without being cruel and that's a good quality."

They stood without talking for a moment, comfortable in the silence, then their peace and quiet was shattered by the arrival of Angel's brother, Tony. Right away, Bucky didn't care for the guy, wondering how he was such a jerk compared to his sister. Eventually, he found that he had to leave before he was tempted to punch Tony and headed out the back door. Before he got very far, he heard his voice being called and turned to see Angel walking towards him. She handed him her business card.

"Stay in touch," she smiled. "We can go for coffee or something. If you want."

"Yeah, I would like that." He looked at her again. "Do you have your phone with you?" She nodded. He phoned the number she gave him, making her phone ring. "Save my phone number. We can talk about the different things you can try to narrow down that problem with the Triumph. Or maybe you can talk your brother into selling his share in the business to someone else."

They were looking at more than each other's eyes when he said that. Then Angel smiled and saved Bucky's phone number to her contacts. They began to walk away from each other then both turned to look back at the same moment, making them chuckle. With a wave, Bucky headed towards the subway station, feeling pretty positive about his prospects.

Please support the author by reblogging. Comments are also appreciated.

One Shots Masterlist

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #james buchanan barnes au #bucky barnes oneshot #multiverse #james buchanan barnes oneshot #1930s bucky barnes #what if #whatif bucky