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#damn mills has some range
mirazartsstuff · 8 months
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I should stop looking up the voice cast because what was my ass expecting when it was listed that all these three bitches share a VA?
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I can't make this shit up if I tried
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mrsevans90 · 5 months
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Puppy Love
Captain Syverson x OFC Emma Miller Part 2
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Summary: Austin Syverson has returned to Texas after retiring from the military and starts his own contracting business. Syverson is used to being alone and thinks he prefers it that way. While at work he stumbles upon an injured and abused puppy. When he meets the new veterinarian in town, Emma Miller, he is immediately smitten with her. It turns out Emma has some baggage of her own. Will they be able to make it work? Or is it just a case of fleeting puppy love?
Pairing: Henry Cavill as Captain Austin Syverson x OFC Emma Miller 
Word Count: 4,284
Warnings: Fluffy Sy, Abused animal, domestic violence, stalker ex-boyfriend, mention of nightmares/PTSD, smut in future chapters.
MINORS DNI! Must be 18+
I do not authorize any copying/pasting, stealing of my work, or using my words as your own. 
This story is not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.
A/N: I am an imperfect person who makes mistakes. All that I ask is to please be kind and if you enjoy it then please comment and REPOST! I appreciate any love, comments, and reposts more than you could know. Thank you for reading! 
Part 1
I brought Mills with me to work and set him up in the shade while I completed the outdoor shed build. After the first few hours at home last night, he fully relaxed and I saw his personality come out which made me proud. He followed me all over the house this morning and since he hadn’t had any accidents inside I figured I wouldn’t push my luck and brought him with me. I also didn’t want him bothering Aika since she’s elderly and probably wants to sleep all day without being bothered. Mills really seemed to enjoy the car ride, especially when I rolled the window down half way for him to stick his head out.
I could barely concentrate on a damn thing at work all day, my thoughts radiating pure excitement about what was to come. Hopefully we both would be coming tonight, but if not I’m happy to take things as slow as she wants. I find myself wondering all about her and genuinely can’t wait to get to know her better. I’m shocked as hell she even agreed to come to my place tonight after meeting me all sweaty and nasty from work. The hours literally crawled and I was gonna punch Alex if he made one more comment about how “giddy” I looked. I pride myself on being able to stay stone faced as a military captain but Alex has known me our whole lives so he can read me a little better than most. I had let the steaks marinate in the fridge all day and was planning on cutting out at about 4:30 so I could grab her some flowers, get home and clean myself up before I started cooking. One of the best things about spending summers with my grandparents as a kid was that Nana taught me the basics of cooking. I would spend all day out on the ranch with PawPaw, and then he’d send me inside to help Nana shuck corn, snap peas, or whatever else she needed me to do. As a kid, I was more than happy to get a break from mucking horse stalls or repairing fences after being out in the heat all day, so I enjoyed coming back to the house and listening to the radio with Nana. I couldn’t cook anything super fancy but felt confident enough in creating a handful of meals so I could keep myself fed without constantly relying on takeout.
The doorbell rang as I was taking the dinner rolls out of the oven and Mills jumped up and ran to my feet after Aika grunted with disdain at the interruption of her nap. I knew it would take a bit before Mills got used to loud noises and new people. I took a deep breath and adjusted his new red collar with a bow tie included around his neck and headed to open the door. My breath caught in my throat as I took in the beauty in front of me. Emma was standing at the door wearing sandals and a stunning light blue sundress that matched her eyes while holding a cake tray and a pitcher of homemade sweet tea. Her long silky hair was in loose curls that cascaded around her breasts and her bright smile had my heart pounding in my chest. I let out a soft whistle through my teeth as I widened the door.
“Hey Sy.” She uttered with a nervous tremble.
“Damn darlin’, you look beautiful.”
“Thank you.” She said with a blush tint to her cheeks.
“Let me take those for you.” I reached for the items in her hand.
“Thank you. I made some sweet tea and thought you might like some and a pound cake for dessert.”
“Two of my favorite things. Three if you count yourself.” I said with a smirk and she playfully rolled her eyes as she followed me inside and shut the door for me.
“Your house is absolutely beautiful, Austin.”
“Thank you, sweetheart.”
“Look at you, handsome! Aren’t you just the cutest thing I’ve ever seen?” She said in her baby voice while crouching to Mills who was dancing around her feet much to my surprise. I figured he’d still be weary but he must have he remembered her. Or he just knew that she was a good person. Mama always said to trust a dog’s instinct about people.
“Why thank you.” I said jokingly as I walked into the kitchen from the foyer.
“I was talking to this handsome fella, but you look cute too.” She followed me and smirked as she eyed me up and down in my tight “nice” grey t-shirt and jeans.
“Nothing compares to you, sweetheart.”
“You are so corny.” She says with a giggle and I can’t help but laugh too.
“Does that bother you?”
“No, it’s endearing.” She responds. “He looks like he feels much better and his bandages are fresh. Good job. Oh, this must be Aika.” She says while holding her hand out for Aika to sniff who slowly makes her way over to her. Since being out of the military and with her old age she feels comfortable and safe in our house and very rarely growls like she used to with new people. I think she feeds off of me and knows that if I’m not anxious, she can relax. Aika shoves her head into Emma’s hand who quickly begins to scratch her neck and ears while cooing at her. Aika immediately drops and rolls over for belly rubs and I’m genuinely shocked. She only acts like this with me and my grandparents. She has never shown her belly to a stranger before.
“Well I’ll be damned.” I mutter and Emma looks at me inquisitively while perched on her knees scratching all over Aika’s belly.
“She’s a former unofficial military dog. I found her in Afghanistan and trained her while I was stationed there. She has never shown her belly for scratches to anyone other than me and my grandparents.” I explain. She smiles brightly.
“Such a good girl! I’m honored. Maybe others just don’t have the right nails for good scratches.” She says while playfully showing me her manicured hands. Think about those little hands around your cock. Damn my intrusive thoughts.
“Don’t go stealing my dog with belly scratches now. I might have to start requesting belly scratches of my own if you keep that up. She’s drooling on the floor.” I chuckle as I point to Aika who seems to be on cloud nine as her tail wags slowly and her leg begins to kick from the pleasurable sensation.
“We’ll see about your own belly scratches if you’re a good boy.” She whispers and I feel the blood shoot right to my cock. FUCK. I’ve gotta think of something else.
“I know traditionally I’m supposed to show up at your doorstep with flowers, and I couldn’t really do that with dinner at my place but I got you some anyway.” I said as I handed her the sunflowers in a thin vase.
“They’re stunning. One of my favorite flowers! Thank you.” She quickly pressed a kiss to my cheek and I swear I felt like a nervous kid again.
“What are your favorites?” I ask so I’ll know for next time.
“Well, peonies are my favorite but they can be hard to find. Hydrangeas and sunflowers are my other favorites.” Hmm. I’ll need to look for a place that sells peonies.
 “So, what’s for supper?” Y/N asks and pulls me from my thoughts.
“Salad, steak, potato wedges, green beans and a roll.” I point to each dish while scratching my neck a bit nervously. God, I hope she likes it.
            “Mmmmm. That sounds delicious. Anything I can do to help?” The sound of her moan is burned into my brain for me to replay later.
            “Why don’t you pour us some of that tea you brought while I plate the food.” I suggest and watch her turn and get started.
            “How was work today?” I ask as I set her plate down in front of her.
            “It was pretty good! Slower than yesterday. Someone brought in a cat that they had found hit on the side of the road and unfortunately it had already passed away which sucks. I tried everything but he was just too far gone.”
“Damn, I hate that. Didja find the owner?”
“No. It looked like a stray. No microchip or collar and wasn’t neutered. I just will never understand why people don’t get their animals fixed.”
“Neither will I. I hate to say it Mills, but enjoy your nuts while they last because as soon as your cleared for surgery we are getting those snipped. No baby mama drama for you. Sorry pal.” I say with a chuckle while looking at my new buddy with a nervous grin.
Emma giggles brightly at the face I made at him. “So, how was your day? I don’t think I even asked what you do for work.”
            “I own my business, Syverson Contracting. That’s why I was so sweaty and gross when I brought Mills in yesterday. We’ve been working on remodeling a house and I was building a garden shed for the owners when I found him. I finished it up today but we’ve got a little more work to do inside the house.”
            “Wow! I saw the sign for your company but didn’t put two and two together. That’s incredible. I can’t imagine how cranky I would be if I was out in this heat all day every day.”
            “Eh, I’m used to it. This has nothing on the desert, although the humidity is a bitch. I don’t mind it too much. I like building things and working with my hands. Plus, the projects change enough that I don’t get bored which is nice.”
            “I’m sure it’s rewarding to take something old and broken and essentially make it new.”
            “Definitely. That’s the best part. I uh, I started here with this house. When I left the military, I loved the land but the house was falling apart. Figured I had nothing better to do so I’d do it myself and learn as I go. The plumbing was all busted and the roof had a ton of leaks. I essentially ripped it down to studs and rebuilt it.”
            “Wait, I didn’t realize that! So, when I said it was stunning, it’s all because of you.” I smile at her astonishment.
            “You flatter me. I appreciate it. Rebuildin' this house is what made me decide to start my company. I have zero interior design skills though so I know I need to change furniture and maybe get some art or something on the walls but I’m honestly clueless about all of that. Need me to build a bathroom or repair drywall, I’m your man though.” I chuckled.
“Well, I thought about doing interior design for a bit in college, but ultimately the animals won my heart. If you ever want help, I’d be happy to try.” Damn, she’s perfect.
“Darlin, you’re going to make me fall in love with you if you keep talking like that.” I wink at her.
“So corny.” She shakes her head and giggles and I just can’t help but laugh with her. I could listen to that sound over and over again.
We continue to talk throughout the meal where she asks me how I learned to cook and I explain all about my grandparents who own the farm near the country store off of county road 55. She tells me all about Alabama, how she went to the university on a cheerleading scholarship and I have to keep myself in check before my mind starts wondering if she’s still flexible. We talk just a bit about the military, finding Aika, and I can’t help but notice her squirm a bit when she finds out that I was the Captain for the special forces. After we finish eating, she stands up and cuts up the pound cake that she made from scratch. I groan as I take a bite of the dessert and she bites her lip as she watches me.
            “Where do you think you’re going, darlin’?” I ask with cake still in my mouth as she gets up carrying our empty dinner plates and walks to the sink.
            “You cooked, I’ll clean. It’s only fair.”
            “No ma’am. You’re a guest. Put those down!” I say as I swallow my bite.
            “No way, Jose.” She crosses her arms and cocks her hip out. “If you want me to leave the rest of that cake here with you, you’ll sit down and let me clean the dishes.” I grunt at her. Sassy little thing.
            “I’ll let you load the dishwasher. Fair?”
            “Fair, but I’m still handwashing these two pans.” Emma says as she sticks her tongue out at me and begins washing the pans.
            “Woman, you are something else.” I smirk at her and ogle her body in that dress while she has her back turned towards me.
            “Where’d you learn to bake like this?” I ask her pointing towards the cake as she dries of the pans with a dishtowel.
            “My best friend and college roommate’s grandmother. She lived about an hour from our apartment and she would come visit about two times a month and stock our fridge with all sorts of things. She knew that pound cake was my favorite so she gave me the recipe even though it was only given to women in their family. She’s essentially my Nana too now. She has given me lots of recipes but that’s my favorite. I enjoy baking, it feels like less of a chore than regular cooking.” She says with a smile.
            I lead her to the living room and offer her a beer which she accepts and we spend the next hour talking about our lives. She tells me a bit about her family, which consists of just her mom and dad. They still live in Alabama and she’d like them to move out this way but they're resistant to leave the comfort of familiarity. She was extremely close with her grandparents but they have all passed on as well. I explain how my dad took off when I was two and remarried and my mother raised me until she passed after being hit by a drunk driver when I was twenty. I told her about my older brother Mark who lives in Tennessee with his pregnant wife, Jenn, and my two-year-old niece, Lucy.
            “So, you’re telling me you left everything and everyone you know back in Alabama just because you got the vet job here in our little town? I find that a bit hard to believe darlin’.”
            “What’s so hard to believe? Maybe I just needed a change.”
            “You sure you’re not running from something? Or someone?”
            “Damn you for being so intuitive. I thought military men were just supposed to follow orders blindly and not think?” She deflects with a giggle and I know from her tone she’s just playing with me.
            “You couldn’t be more wrong about that, sweetheart. Remember I’m a Captain. My whole job relied on me reading situations and people. I ain’t gonna to push you to tell me if you don’t want to, though.”
            “It’s no big deal. Essentially, my ex-boyfriend was cheating on me. I caught him and learned it had been going on for several months before I found out. His name wasn’t on our apartment lease since he had moved in with me so I kicked him out and he wasn't happy about it. I had to get a restraining order when he showed up and broke in through the window after I had the locks changed. It was quite the talk of the town since his mistress is the assistant principal for the local elementary school. Ultimately, I just got tired of hearing the whispers and gossip while also feeling like I needed to watch my back. I needed a change of pace anyway so, here I am.”
“That fucker.” I muttered while shaking my head.
“Yup. Not the first time I’ve been cheated on either so I guess you could say that I don’t have the best track record with men.” She shrugged.
“I’m sorry he treated you that way. He fucked up and then had the audacity to break into your home? God, I hate dipshits like that.”
“I always felt super safe in that town before and now it just feels… tainted? I guess? Turns out, a little piece of paper doesn’t keep people away. In his case, it just pissed him off more. His uncle is on the police force there so he felt like he was untouchable.”
“He showed up again after the restraining order?” She nodded while looking at her hands.
“Did he… Damnit Emma I said I wasn’t going to ask and I certainly don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but did he touch you? Hurt you?”
“It’s in the past, Austin. I’m here and I’m safe now. No use dwelling on it. It could have been worse. I was lucky, honestly.”
“What do you mean you were lucky?” She sighed and fiddled with her fingers.
“He showed up after being served the restraining order when I was coming home from work and slapped me around a bit.. I tried to defend myself, and I did for the most part. Ultimately, he busted my lip, and shoved me into a wall outside of my apartment. My neighbor happened to be home, heard the screaming and called the cops. I didn’t have to go to the hospital or anything so I got lucky. Just wounded my ego a bit.” She shrugged like she was fine but I could tell she was still afraid.
“Fuck, sweetheart. That’s not lucky. You still got hurt. Come’re. Can I hug you?” She nodded and I pulled her to my lap and hugged her tightly.
“You are safe here. If you ever feel scared or anything, please tell me. I want to protect you.” She’s tense as I hold her and I hear her sigh.
“I’m not some damsel in distress, Austin. I’m fine. You don’t have to concern yourself with it. I left my problems in Alabama. I don't want to be the girl that everyone pities anymore.”
“I don’t have to do anything and you aren't someone I pity. I admire your strength and I want to concern myself with you. I really like you Emma. Like I can’t get you off of my mind. I ain’t trying to come on too strong and I know we just met but I want to get to know you in every way. The thought of you being scared to just go about your life makes me sick.”
Emma relaxed in my arms and buried her head in my neck as she tightened her arms around me. “I want that too. I mean, um, I like you too and want to get to know you better.”
“S'alright if I kiss you?” I normally wouldn’t ask but I don’t want her to startle her or make her uncomfortable.
She nods.
“Words sweetheart.”
“Kiss me.”
The words barely left her lips before I pressed mine against hers as my hand caressed her jaw. I felt her tongue swipe against my bottom lip asking for entry and I quickly granted it where she deepened the kiss. I groaned as her tongue stroked my own and I tasted her mouth. We kissed until we were both breathless and she pulled back before pressing her forehead against mine.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t you apologize fer’a thing. You’re in control here, not me. This only goes as far as you want it to and believe me, I am more than happy just to sit here with you. Just looking at you and talking to you is all I need. I just want you to know that. I won’t pressure you now or ever.” I told her while looking into her eyes and she smiled.
“You’re too good to be true.” She whispered.
“Nah darlin’, I’m just decent person who values women and know that you don’t owe me a thing. I’m just enjoying being in your presence. That’s all I need from you. You decide the pace.”
She nods at me with a smile.
“I’m sorry that you’ve not been treated right before but I’m happy for the chance to do so.” I tell her while tucking her hair behind her ear. Emma leans down and kisses me again. We sit on the couch with Emma in my lap making out for a little while longer before Mills whines at the door to go outside. 
            “That is my que to get up and let you get back to your night.” Emma said quietly and I want to protest but she interrupts me. “I’ve got to be at work early in the morning anyway.” She stiffly climbs from my lap and I flush as I can’t exactly hide my raging boner but I quickly try and adjust myself so it’s not as noticeable.
            “I sure wish you didn’t have to go. I really enjoyed tonight. Feelin' like I’ve barely scratched the surface at all the things I want to know about you.”
            “Me too.” She shyly pecks my lips after I open the door and both of the dogs bound outside. I motion for her to step outside the back with me so I can keep an eye on Mills and I wrap my arm around her shoulder.
            “It might be clingy as fuck to ask this, but I’m a grown man who is not interested in playing games. Can I see you again tomorrow darlin’? Unless you’ve got plans of course.” Emma curls against me and rests her head against my chest.
            “Seeing as I only know like four people in this town, including you, I’ll have to see if I can pencil you in.” She smarts and I tickle her ribs.
            “Little smartass.” I chuckle and she giggles back.
            “What did you have in mind?” She asks.
            “Dinner at the Italian restaurant in town?”
            “Gia’s? It’s the best food I’ve had since I moved here. The owners must pity me after seeing how many times I’ve called for takeout from there just this month.”
            “We can get something else if you’re tired of” Emma interrupts me.
            “No! it’s so good! I’ve only ordered take out so I wouldn’t be the pitiful newbie that eats alone. I would love to go there with you, Austin.”
            “It’s a date. Text me your address. What time ya want me to pick ya up?”
            “5:30 still okay?”
            “That’s perfect, angel.”
            I whistle through my teeth for the dogs to come back in and Emma chuckles when Mills sees Aika coming straight back to me and clumsily attempts to follow her. We pet the dogs for a minute before Emma puts her shoes back on and grabs her purse. I grab her waist and gently press her up against the front door.
            “Now, I’m gonna walk you to your car here in a second but I needed one more of these before we are in public.” I bend down to kiss her passionately as she wraps her arms around my neck. I gently pin her with my hips against the door as her nails lightly scrape across the back of my head and I grunt. After a few more seconds of kissing her, I slowly pull back.
            “That may just be my new favorite thing, sugar.”
            “You call me that and I immediately think of Mrs. Clayton’s yorkie.” She giggles.
            “Nah, you’re much sweeter than that little yappy shit.” I say with a grin as I run my thumb across her cheekbone before pecking her lips again.
I carry the vase of sunflowers when I walk her out to her car and am surprised that it’s a nice almost new black jeep wrangler. I was too consumed with looking at her when she arrived to notice. She observes me looking at the SUV and smiles.
            “Like it?”
            “I thought veterinarian’s drove Audis and Mercedes.” I say and she rolls her eyes.
“Not this veterinarian. I love my Jeep. Driving around with my top off and the music blaring is a form of therapy for me.”
“I’m sorry, I think I had a stroke when you said “my top off” and didn’t hear anything else.” I joke.
She quickly pushes my arm. “You would only focus on that, pervert!” She giggles. I clutch my chest pretending to be hurt.
“Ouch, darlin’. You’re wounding me with the name calling.”
“You’ll survive.” She retorts with a wink.
“Let me know that you get home safely?” I ask and she nods before standing on her tiptoes to place one more chaste kiss to my lips before climbing in her jeep. Damn, I love seeing a little woman driving a big SUV and I can’t explain why. Just does something to me. Maybe it’s a size kink foreshadowing how much I’d like to see her little petite frame against my much larger one.
“See you tomorrow, Austin.”
“Looking forward to it, sugar.”
I walk back inside my house and for the first time since I renovated it, the house seems empty, like it’s missing something vital. Her. It’s missing her and the brightness I felt while she was here. Fuck, one date and she has me wrapped around her finger. She’s got me envisioning a future that I never thought I’d get to have.
Part 3
Taglist: @shellyshellshell @henryownsme @caramariehurst @beck07990 @mollymal @kingliam2019 @syversonswife @identity2212 @starfirewildheart @hannah9921 @wa-ni @kneelforloki @cutedoxie
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lulu2992 · 3 months
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Uncovering the unreleased Far Cry 5 in-game Encyclopedia
Aside from the places that still exist in the game, I also found a few that don’t!
Part 5: Cut locations
In the files, each location on the map has a code. Thanks to location-specific Gun For Hire comments (found in a document that DanaDuchy shared here) and other information available in oasisstrings, I tried to find which code corresponded to which location. That took me some time because I had to take my companions to several places to see which comments would be triggered, find those comments in the files, and look at the associated location code. Sometimes, I even had to go find and hire new fighters who had the “right voice” if I knew they had something to say about a place I wanted to identify! When I was done matching all in-game locations with codes, I realized there were more.
The code looks different depending on how important the place is. For example, Fall’s End is D2_HERO_01, the Baron Lumber Mill is H5_MEGA_01, and the 8-Bit Pizza Bar is E5_POI_08 (I suppose “POI” means “Point Of Interest”). That helped me find which code was which location, but in the case of deleted content, also gives information on how big the place was supposed to be before it got cut.
Using NPC comments, as well as deleted notes and other information available in oasisstrings, here are the cut Far Cry 5 locations I could find and their description in the unreleased encyclopedia (or at least what I can hypothesize about those places).
You can read the oasisstrings file here. Pictures from this encyclopedia were also extracted and posted by @xbaebsae here.
(Below, for clarity, “RF” means “Resistance Female” and “RM” is for “Resistance Male”, which are the characters’ names in the files)
Fumaroles (F5_POI_03)
A hole in the planet's crust that belches steam and gases. According to Montana Parks and Recreation officials, fumaroles are not portals to hell.
Here, Guns For Hire would say:
RF1: "Took a field trip here once. Don't remember anything about this."
RM1: "Damn, look what they've done to this place."
Hurk: "Daddy calls this the Devil's Asshole because it smells so bad."
Old Lakeside Camp (E6_POI_05)
Probably some good memories were made here under the stars.
Pilgrimage Footbridge (E7_POI_01)
Located on high cliffs and above water, it's a part of Faith's pilgrimage. Not for the faint of heart.
Here, Guns For Hire would say:
RF2: "Wonder how many folks they've already forced to march over this bridge. Makes me sick."
RM2: "Please let's not cross that footbridge."
High Cave (F7_POI_01)
A cave that is high
Here, Guns For Hire would say:
Jess: "Check out that cave. I used to smoke tons of weed in there when I was a kid."
Western Radio Tower (code unknown)
A large aerial tower used to transmit and boost radio signals.
Abandoned Motel (D6_POI_01)
(no description found)
There was a note called “Abandoned Motel note”. Its content is unknown.
Shooting Range (F5_POI_06)
(no description found)
There was a note called “Shooting Range note” that said, “Grace Armstrong should own this.”
Here, Guns For Hire would say:
Hurk: “Whoo-ya, let's fire off some rounds!”
MX Trail Head (D4_POI_06)
(no description found)
There was a note called “MX Trail Head note”. Its content is unknown.
Boulder field (E7_POI_02)
(no description found)
There was a note called “Boulder field note”. Its content is unknown.
Bob’s Gun Shop (G5_POI_07)
This one is interesting because it looks like it wasn’t completely cut but rather turned into another location with a new code: the Can of Worms Fishing Store (G4_POI_01). Look at the picture associated with the location (see link at the beginning of the post), compared to a screenshot I took of the Can of Worms Fishing Store:
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Here, Guns For Hire would say:
RF3: "Never fished outta here, myself."
(Unnamed location) (E4_HERO_01)
(no description found)
I didn’t find the name of this place, but it’s the one I’m the most curious about. The code says it’s a “HERO” type of location, which suggests it was probably important since, in this category, we also find Joseph’s Island (as a whole), Dutch’s Island (as a whole), John’s Gate, Seed Ranch, Fall’s End, the McKinley Dam, St. Francis Veteran’s Center, the Wolf’s Den, and Sacred Skies Youth Camp.
Here, Guns For Hire would say:
Nick: "I think my mic's on. ...The button's stuck... C'mon."
Sharky: "Did you know doctors used to finger blast women here when they were hysterical? I wish I was a doctor."
Grace: "I don't know much about this place. It's new to me."
Jess: "Fuckin' loonie bin. Always gave me the creeps."
Adelaide: "Can you think of anything scarier than places like this? Gives me the willies."
Hurk: "This is where I come to score chicks, man."
These comments, especially what Sharky, Jess, Adelaide, and even Hurk say, make me think it could be a psychiatric facility, possibly for women only. I really wish I knew more about this!
(Unnamed location) (J3_POI_01)
(no description found)
Here, Guns For Hire would say:
Nick: "Ugh. I hate seeing crashed planes. They look so much better in the sky."
This one could have something to do with the “Mayday” Prepper Stash, but I took Nick to that location and could never trigger his comment...
And that’s pretty much all the interesting things I found!
There were a few more “orphaned” codes that simply appeared in oasisstrings but for which I didn’t find any information. There was also this description:
The Forbeth family has loved the Father's message since day one. These people were told to prepare for the Collapse and abandoned their home.
Since the Rotten Mill (Joseph’s Island) apparently didn’t have a description yet, it could be for this place, but it could also be for another, deleted location.
Finally, it seems the Elk Jaw Lodge used to be called the “Bear Jaw Lodge”, and maybe there was a place called “Killburn Farm”, but maybe it was also one of the current in-game locations’ former name.
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megamindsecretlair · 10 months
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It's a Little Warm, Part 1
Cross posted on @megamindssecretlair
Read Part 2 | Read Part 3 | Read Part 4 | Read Part 5
Pairing: Bucky x Black!Fem!Reader / Plus Size Reader
Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. There is some making out, unresolved tension! Mentions of private parts but really mild. Cursing. Mild age gap. Reader is late 20s and Bucky is mid 30s. Soft Bucky. Part 1 of 5. Slow burn to smut though. Some sentences are intentional AAVE.
Summary: Sam Wilson is your play uncle and has invited you and Bucky to stay at a cabin with him, Sarah, and the kids. Bucky was sweet enough to help with your bags. You also found yourself up in the wee hours of the morning with him.
Word Count: 4,221k
A/N: I've been reading a lot of age gap fics at cabins and wanted to try my spin. Apologies if I miss any warnings or this is super corny. But here we go! While likes are awesome, please consider reblogging and commenting to help support writers!
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“Kinfolk!” Uncle Sam yelled and shoved past people in his quest to scoop you into his arms and spin you around. You yelped, not used to anyone swinging you around like a doll. You were short but far from petite and the sudden loss of your feet firmly planted to the ground made your stomach flip. 
“Put me down!” You yelled. You slapped at his massive arms but that only made him chuckle. Mercifully, he stopped turning and set you on your feet. “Look at you!” 
You rolled your eyes. “I just saw ya’ll last week!” 
His chuckle was quick as he threw his head back. “You barely come out of the house, I got to comment on the special occasion.”
You twist your lips and roll your eyes. “I see being Captain Chocolate has made you even cornier,” you said.
Uncle Sam laughed and threw his arm over your shoulder. “Oh, see you got jokes. I see working for that newspaper ain’t help with them lame ass nicknames. I thought you had a better vocabulary than that?” 
“Somehow I always forget it when I come around ya’ll,” you said. Uncle Sam only chuckled. “Where’s your bags?” 
“Got it in the car for now,” you said. 
Uncle Sam frowned. “Give me a minute, I’ll come help you,” he said. 
“I’m perfectly capable of bringing up my own bags,” you said. 
“That ain’t what I said. C’mon and say hi to Sarah. She’s glad there will be another woman this week,” he said. You follow Uncle Sam through the cabin, weaving through close friends of his and Aunt Sarah. 
The cabin had an open plan for the living room and dining room. People milled around watching a football game and sitting on large, comfortable couches. The dining room was cottage chic as a few of the elderly people sat around it talking and fanning themselves. Kids nearly pushed you over as they ran through the cabin.
“Say ‘excuse me’ next time!” Uncle Sam called after them. A chorus of “excuse me’s” rang out as you waved them off. Finally, you made it through the sea of people into the kitchen where various aunties were passing around bowls and spoons and tinfoil. 
They smiled at you and you were passed around like the last piece of pie as everyone got in their hugs and kisses and well wishes. The last person to hug you was Aunt Sarah. She hugged you just as hard as Uncle Sam did. 
“Damn, ya’ll would’ve thought I died or something,” you said. 
Sarah laughed. “Oh my god! I’m just so happy it’s not just me staying here this week. Sam gets his puppy, I should get one too,” Sarah said and laughed, pushing her braids behind her ears. 
Before you could ask what she meant, a booming grandfatherly voice called out for Sam. He told them that he’d be right back and headed out of the open side door towards the backyard. Smoke rose into the air as a full barbeque station was being managed by an elderly man with a cap and New Balance shoes on. You shook your head. Every time.
You opened your mouth to ask what Sarah meant by the puppy comment but movement to your left caught your eye. A man entered the kitchen in a soft burgundy shirt and jeans and large dusty boots. He scanned the room before spotting Sarah and broke into a wide grin.
He was simply gorgeous. It was the type of smile that could stop traffic. Perhaps even cure cancer if he grinned hard enough. His eyes crinkled in the corners as he approached. 
“You must be Sam’s niece,” he said and extended his hand. 
“Uh yes, nice to meet you, Mr. Barnes,” you said and took his hand. His hand was rough and calloused and slid across your soft palm, making your hand tingle. 
He smirked and shook his head. “Ugh, Mr. Barnes makes me sound old. I’m not that old. Bucky is fine,” he said.
“You are that old, you old dinosaur,” Uncle Sam said, materializing right next to you. He clapped you on the back, making you jump. “He’s so old, Moses asked him to lead the choir,” Uncle Sam said and laughed.
The group laughed and Bucky rolled his eyes. “At least I don’t have any gray hairs,” Bucky said. 
“Ay man, you take that back. That’s hurtful,” Uncle Sam said and smoothed down his faded haircut. 
You couldn’t take your eyes off of Bucky Barnes. It had been wild hearing about the man from Uncle Sam and Aunt Sarah, but seeing him in person was an entirely different experience. 
Aunt Sarah leaned her hip against the counter and looked between the two men. “See, Sam gets his puppy and I get another human being to talk to. Once you get these two started, they keep going on and on,” she said. 
You narrowed your eyes and tilted your head. “Bucky’s staying with us for the week too. It’s rare they come home at the same time these days. So we’re gonna make a thing out of it,” Aunt Sarah explained the unspoken question lingering in the air.
“Ah, gotcha.” 
“Hey, we bring the sunshine and the good vibes. All day, baby. Now, pass over the keys,” Uncle Sam said and held his hand out. 
You shook your head. “I can get it, it’s not a big deal.” 
The cook for the festivities called for Uncle Sam again. He groaned and nodded towards Bucky. “Wrestle the keys from her so we can help with her bags and take it upstairs. She’s stubborn.” 
“Stubborn doesn’t work on us, doll,” Bucky said and turned that mega-watt smile on you. You sighed and fought to keep all kinds of dirty thoughts out of your mind. Could super soldiers read minds? 
“Hey, hey, hey! None of that. Paws off!” Uncle Sam said.
“Oh my god,” you groaned. Your cheeks instantly flamed and you were grateful for your darker skin. It hid the obvious signs of a blush. You turned to Aunt Sarah for help who laughed and shook her head. She gave you a pitying look as if to say she wouldn’t be any help. She looked Bucky up and down and winked at you. 
“You’re not really my uncle, you know,” you said. 
“I’m your uncle in the ways that matter. Don’t make me bring a hose in here. It’s hard enough keeping the aunties off of him.” 
The cook called out for Uncle Sam again. He gave them a warning glare before you turned back to Bucky who held out his metal hand. It had intricate designs etched into it and seemed really, really advanced. You half wondered if it was from that famous Wakanda. You’d just about die to have a chance to go there one day. 
“I can get it myself. You don’t have to bother,” you said. You backed away, bumping into random partygoers talking in the kitchen. The press of bodies seemed to double as you backed away towards the front door. You knew you should have brought your things inside earlier. But you were already running late and just wanted to unwind from the long drive. 
Bucky stalked forward, patient as a hunter, with his arm still outstretched. His grin turned into a patient smirk. 
“Right, being stubborn doesn’t work on you,” you said. 
His answering smirk was enough to melt your panties. You looked away from him. If he couldn’t read your mind, he could at least read your facial expressions. And none of your thoughts were holy. 
You dug into the back pocket of your shorts and slapped your keys into his hand. “Thanks, doll,” he said.
You had, hand to god, actual shivers run down your spine. His voice had the right amount of gravel in it to skate over your nerve endings. And you weren't even standing that close to him. 
Bucky held out his hand for you to lead the way and you took the opportunity to calm your racing heart and nerves. He was a solid wall of heat at your back as you maneuvered your way to the front door. Your sandals slapped against the hardwood floor but even with his boots, he was silent. You felt like a bull in a china shop. 
You gave yourself a pep talk. Somehow, someway, you were supposed to survive an entire week with that. You supposed it was true. You should never meet your idols. You might get the overwhelming urge to climb them like a tree. 
Okay, thoughts like that weren’t going to help. You supposed you could limit your contact as much as possible. Hide out in the room or down by the lake. Anything. As long as it meant you weren’t right next to the man. 
You led Bucky outside and towards the makeshift parking lot. A dizzying array of nearly every make and model crowded the rented cabin’s lawn and rocky driveway. You had to park a little ways away and walk down to the cabin. Making it to your beat up Honda, you waved to it. 
Bucky smirked and popped the trunk. You had two suitcases, plus your laptop bag. You moved to grab one and Bucky tsked at you. He tsked at you as if you were a child! 
“You don’t like people doing things for you, do you?” Bucky asked with a smirk. He bent down to retrieve your bags. He didn’t even grunt at the weight. This was your poor attempt to pack light. But since you were a big girl, your clothes didn’t roll up all cute and tiny. You had to adjust and shove things until they fit enough for the suitcase to close. 
“I’m not used to it. Makes me feel weird,” you said. 
“Why’s that?” 
“I don’t know. Makes me feel useless. I feel like I should help,” you said. He got the second suitcase down and slipped your laptop bag over his shoulders. You closed the trunk.
“So you were going to haul all of this to the cabin tonight by yourself?” 
“Yes?” You hadn’t meant to make it a question, but he asked as if he were scolding you. You fought an eye roll and bit the inside of your cheek. He was being nice. But it still grated. As far as the City of Nawlins was concerned, you were a full growed adult. 
“It gets pretty dark out here. It could’ve gotten dangerous. A random car could hit you or a wild animal could trip you up,” he said. 
“You always so fatalistic?” 
“I’ve had reason to be,” he said.
Right. Doofus. “I am so-”
“Don’t be,” he said with a smirk. “Once you fight scaly purple monster-aliens, it’s hard not to see danger everywhere. Just because you can do things by yourself doesn’t mean you can’t accept a little help. Okay?” 
You nodded slowly, feeling like a proper idiot. Of course the man was fatalistic. You didn’t know everything about him. Most of it came from Antman’s book or Uncle Sam’s stories, and it wasn’t the whole story. Still, it was enough to know that Bucky had more than enough reason to be wary of potential danger. 
You took a deep breath and avoided looking at him. He carried your bags into the house and up the stairs. He nodded towards a door a few paces down the hallway. You opened it to find a spacious room, decorated with a nautical theme. You smiled at the blue and white scheme, the anchor pictures on the wall, and the goofy full sized bed. 
Bucky gently set your bags on the floor and your laptop bag on the small desk. As he leaned over, his shirt rode up a bit revealing creamy skin and subtle muscles. 
“What’s that, doll?” Bucky asked as he straightened. 
“What?” You asked, a little too loud. You looked at him and he put his hands on his waist as he surveyed the room.
“I thought you said something,” he said. Did he have to draw attention to his tiny ass waist? Seriously. This man couldn’t be real. It was like he stepped out of a smut book. He was the definition of sexy as sin. Everything he did was seductive. 
“Figured you’d get the better room,” he muttered with a sigh. But you got the sense that he was teasing. You looked around and noticed the huge window. You went to it and peeked out over the backyard. Uncle Sam was leading the group dance along to a Tupac song. 
You turned with a smile to tell Bucky but you noticed his eyes dart up to your face. Was he…?
No way. You shook your head. “Where’s your room?” You asked.
“Right across the hall. Just holler if you need anything, I’m a light sleeper.” 
Your mind wandered to how he would look asleep. His dark hair tousled and floofy. You bet he slept without a shirt on. He seemed the type. Plus he was like a furnace. He probably got hot. Which meant…
“Uh right. That must suck. I sleep like a little brick,” you said. Your cheeks burned again. 
“I haven’t slept that well since before the war,” he said and shrugged. “You okay?” 
“I’m fine. I probably just need some water. It’s a little warm in here. I mean outside. I mean today,” you said with a laugh. You looked at the floor and closed your eyes. Yup. Operation Avoid Bucky At All Costs commenced now. 
“Well come on. We better get downstairs before Sam steals all the ribs like last time. I thought food lasted longer at cookouts?” Bucky asked. 
You laughed. “Rule number one of cookouts: make your to-go plate before your real plate,” you said. 
He backed out of the room with a grin. You followed and closed your bedroom door behind you. 
“You’ll have to explain that one,” he said. 
You explained the intricacies of cook out etiquette as you headed down the stairs and on the way outside. Bucky listened and didn’t interrupt no matter how many side stories and funny anecdotes you told. Once outside, Uncle Sam waved from the dance area. 
Uncle Sam moved and shimmied his way through dances, making everyone around him laugh. He wore long, navy shorts and a light blue shirt. You shook your head as he tried to twerk and made everyone nearly fall out with laughter. 
You stood side by side with Bucky as you watched. You kept all of your focus on Uncle Sam. You absolutely did not notice how heavenly Bucky smelled or how he blocked the sun for you. 
Aunt Sarah called your name and you looked behind you. She sat at a table and waved. She pointed to a plate she made for you. Your stomach chose then to grumble. You waved back to acknowledge her. 
“I better…” 
“I’ll catch you around,” he said with a small smile. He headed off into the swarm of people with ease saying hi and clapping people on the back. 
You took a deep breath. Maybe food was exactly what you needed. If you were too busy stuffing your face, you didn’t have time to think about Bucky Barnes. 
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You were burning up. For such an open room, the southern heat was eating you alive. You had already kicked off most of your pjs, leaving nothing but an oversized T-shirt and your panties. In a minute, you were going to take that off too, but you desperately needed some water.
You got out of bed, fumbling around in the dark. You stubbed your toe on the corner of a dresser and bit the inside of your cheek to keep from yowling. You danced in place until the sharp pain subsided.
You had no idea what time it was but after the party, cleaning up, and trading stories around the kitchen table, everyone peeled off for bed around two or three in the morning. The sun wasn’t yet up so you only managed to get an hour or so of sleep. 
Your tongue was dry and thick. You moved it around, trying to get your spit going. That last tequila shot definitely did you in. You sighed heavily as you padded down the hallway and the stairs. 
The silence was near deafening as you crossed the wide open space. The cabin was dark but there was enough ambient light from the open curtains letting in moon light. You could see enough to cross the living room towards the kitchen.
You opened the fridge door and bent over to look for leftover water bottles. You danced a bit as you tried to focus long enough to find a bottle. The fridge blew cold air that washed over your flushed skin. You scratched absently at your bonnet. 
Finally finding some water, you uncapped it and stood up to down nearly half the bottle. You turned around and screamed, jumping back into the fridge door. Bucky sat at the kitchen table. The light from the fridge gave him an otherworldly appearance.
Bucky stood up instantly and crossed the small space towards you. He held out his hands to steady you. “You okay? I’m sorry,” he said. 
You slapped him away and scrambled for the nearest light switch. “You scared me half to death!” 
Miraculously, you drank too much for the water to slosh out of the bottle so none of it spilled. You clutched the cool bottle to your racing heart. Your hands shook and you took deep breaths to calm down. 
Bucky had the good nerve to wince before closing the fridge door. “I’m truly sorry,” he said.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” You asked.
Bucky chuckled. “Well, I wasn’t trying to scare you. A random voice in the night would’ve scared you more,” he said. 
You flopped into the nearest kitchen chair. You were too hot and too shaken up to care that you wore a bonnet around Bucky. There was no need to avoid him now. You were about as sexy as a paper clip. 
He dropped back into his seat. Now that you were calming down, you noticed that true to your daydreams, his hair was pleasantly tousled. He didn’t wear a shirt but he did have dog tags hanging from his neck. His metal arm gleamed in the low light. 
“Couldn’t sleep either?” You asked.
He smirked. “Not really,” he said. 
“Nightmares? Want to talk about it? I’ve been told I’m an excellent listener,” you said.
He absently rubbed a spot on the wooden table. “Wasn’t a nightmare this time. Actually had a dream. For the first time in a long time.” 
You looked at him as he held a smirk, but there was no humor in it. You sat patiently, giving him the space to talk about it or not. It didn’t seem like he was inclined, so you sipped your water and listened to the subtle animal sounds from outside. 
“It wasn’t anything fancy. Quite boring actually. I dreamt I was back in Wakanda. It was peaceful there,” he said softly.
A million questions danced in your head. But you nodded and smiled at him to continue. “There was a small lake where I used to sit for hours and just be. I didn’t get a lot of chances to do that in my life. Being here just made me miss it, I guess,” he said.  
“I get that. Dream freaked you out enough to come sit in the dark by your lonesome?” You asked.
He chuckled and nodded. “I can’t always trust what’s in my head. Sometimes I need to ground myself and I’m still getting used to how soft beds are these days,” he said.
“Oh, they make them firmer. Like sleeping on an ironing board,” you said. 
Bucky chuckled and shook his head. “I’ve slept on worse,” he said. 
“Ugh, no thank you. Give me the softest bed you can find. I wanna disappear into an infinite void of clouds and pillows and blankets,” you said. 
Bucky grinned and looked at you. “Don’t you have to be this tall to even climb into the bed?” He held up his hand to exaggerate how short you were. You stuck your tongue out at him. 
“Next to you, everyone’s short,” you said.
“And yet you’re still the shortest,” he said and laughed. You leaned up and slapped his regular arm. 
“You’ve been hanging around Uncle Sam too long,” you said.
Before you could pull back, Bucky grabbed your wrist and prevented you from moving back. He rubbed lazy circles as he looked at you.
“Why do you call him Uncle?” 
Your heart rate sped up for different reasons. His touch was feather soft and sent all kinds of crazy signals to your belly. 
“I grew up around their family for years. But when Sam joined the Air Force, I called him Uncle Sam as a joke. Kind of stuck. He already saw himself as my older brother so we kept it. Sarah felt left out so I called her Auntie,” you explained.
Bucky hummed and nodded. He glanced down at the circles he was making on your wrist. 
“Where’s your family?” He asked.
You shrugged. “Deadbeat, emotionally abusive parents. I ditched them a long time ago and I don’t talk to them.” 
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“S’okay. Good riddance. Sam and Sarah and the boys are all I need. If you’re gonna keep coming around, I guess that includes you too,” you said.
Bucky chuckled and finally released your wrist. “You should probably try to get some sleep. Apparently, Sam has plans scheduled for the whole week,” Bucky said softly. 
“Sam loves his plans. You gonna get some rest?” You asked.
“I’ll try,” he said. 
You nodded. You stood up and moved to walk past him. But you stopped and bit your lip. You reached up and stroked his cheek. 
“I hope you get some sleep,” you said. You didn’t quite want the spell to break yet. It was early morning and the house was quiet. In the moments you spent down here, your body had cooled. However, standing so close to him while his clean soapy scent enveloped you, your body heated up for entirely different reasons. 
You slid your fingers under his chin and made him look up at you. His lips parted as he looked from between your eyes to your lips. He sighed as he trailed his fingers along your thighs. You made a squeak as the cold metal of his arm touched your heated skin. 
He skirted his fingers up and beneath the hem of your shirt, but he didn’t press further. He drew more lazy circles into your skin. 
Fuck it. You leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He sighed again, against your lips, and tugged you closer until you were straddling his thick thigh. You braced one hand on his other thigh and the other around his metal shoulder. 
He devoured you in a strong kiss, teeth clashing against each other. His tongue swiped against your lower lip before you opened for him. His tongue dived inside and slid against your own. 
His metal arm wrapped around you to keep you steady. His hand was better than a brace as it kept you from slipping off of him. His other hand came up to stroke your jaw before wrapping around your neck.
Not even you could keep the needy moan from escaping your lips. His lips moved over yours with expert care. Your hands came up to feather into his hair and trail down to the nape of his neck where you lightly scratched him.
A shudder moved through him that you felt all the way to your pussy. You shamelessly grinded on his leg. There was nothing but his sweatpants and your panties keeping you from skin on skin contact but you were sure he could feel how damp you were already. You’d be embarrassed except your thoughts were consumed with him. With touching him and feeling your nipples rub against his bare chest.
As soon as the kiss started, Bucky pulled away from you. Your harsh breaths mingled with his as you both panted. He plucked your hands from around his neck and held them in between you like a silent prayer. He got a faraway look in his eyes as he stared at your hands. 
He leaned down and kissed your fingers before leaning back and staring at the ceiling. Almost as if he were staring straight into Uncle Sam’s room. 
“You should go back upstairs,” he panted. 
You wanted to be angry. He didn’t get to just dismiss you. You practically threw yourself at him and that realization was enough to dump ice water in your veins. How embarrassing. 
You got up slowly and nodded. Without saying another word, you left the kitchen. Cool air hit the sweat along your face and neck and you shivered from the lack of heat. His heat. But you were a grown woman. You would be okay. 
You trudged all the way to your room and closed the door before falling face first into bed with a soft groan. 
What, the actual fuck just happened?
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Read Part 2 | Read Part 3 | Read Part 4 | Read Part 5
There is now a follow up! It's a Little Cold
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harringtown · 2 years
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the road not taken
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this became much longer than I was planning so it took a while but!!! no joke i was plotting this fic and had a moment of ‘wait they storm into the road, literally the road not taken cuz its outside steve’s house’ and had to sit back for a second cuz I impressed my own damn self w that one. anyways I hope u enjoy anon!!! 
requested by anonymous
pairing: steve harrington x reader
summary: au based on tis the damn season by Taylor Swift (aka the reader left Hawkins, and Steve, but the past is hard to run from, aka some second chance almost romance w a happy ending)
word count: 6.8k
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Hawkins hasn’t changed much in eight months.
Last August, when you left—when you fled, if you’re being technical—the town was slipping into fall. Bare trees and chilly winds saw you off, but now, spring is poking its head up like the flowers sticking out of the concrete sidewalks.
The train station drops you at the far end of main street. Eight months ago, when you made this walk in the other direction, you kept your eyes down and your breath held, like Hawkins might get stuck in your lungs.
Now, you walk slowly, dragging your suitcase behind you, and sweep your gaze around a place you swore you wouldn’t come back to.
Time is funny like that. It couldn’t have predicted you coming home from college for spring break to surprise your family. But it probably couldn’t have predicted you running in the first place.
Starcourt’s destruction has rejuvenated the main square, and the once abandoned shops are back in full gear. Residents mill about in front of stores and restaurants, kids amble around the grass, cars pull by. Hawkins is alive again. After everything it, and everyone who lives here, have been through, it still always manages to bounce back.
You pass the diner, and the general store. The post office. The arcade, and the video store.
A familiar bike is chained up against one of the poles in front of the video store. Affection swells in your chest.
Robin.
You may have cut off Hawkins and Steve Harrington when you left, but you didn’t burn all your bridges. Not with Robin, or Nancy.
And if you’re going to survive this week, you’ll need more than your family to do it. You’ll need friends, and you don’t have a whole lot of those left here.
So, you head for the video store. The lot is full, probably arcade overflow, but none of the other vehicles are familiar.
You pull on the front door’s handle, a bell chiming inside, and in the half step you take, red flashes in your peripheral vision.
You’d know that car anywhere. And the only reason you missed it was because it’s parked on the side of the building.
A red BMW. You even remember the damn license plate number.
Your train of thought careens into a wall of curses, but the bell rang, you’re standing halfway in the store already, and there will be no escaping now. Not unless you literally sprint away like some scared kid.
Please, let him be on break. Or in the back. Or absolutely fucking anywhere else.
You take a breath and step all the way into the store, letting the door swing shut behind you.
“No way,” says a familiar, feminine voice, and you’ve barely clocked Robin behind the counter before she’s pushing around it and rushing you. “Are you actually here right now?”
You grin, and say, “I’m here,” a second before she hauls you into a tight hug. And you can barely breathe, but you don’t mind, because you’re squeezing her just as tight.
Robin pulls back, shaking her head. “Nancy and Jonathan bet five dollars you wouldn’t set foot in this town again, but I knew you’d be back.” She steps back, gesturing to the store around her, with its funky-patterned floor and peeling wallpaper. “I mean, who could resist the charm of our lovely town?”
“Charm is a word for it,” you say, and Robin laughs, slinging an arm around your shoulder.
“So,” she says. “How long do we get you for?” And her smile falters, just for a second, after the word we, like she considers correcting, and decides not to. You’re grateful to once again be around people who know what subjects to avoid. “Please tell me you dropped out of college.” Her nose scrunches. “And ignore how horrible that sounds.”
You snort. “Just here for the week. Unfortunately, I’m still enrolled.”
Robin breaks away from you to round the counter again, retaking her place, and you lean into the ledge across from her.
“I missed the hell out of you,” she says. “Seriously. It’s not the same without you. No one else gets my movie references or will agree to take me to the snow cone stand out in Rockwood.”
That familiar ache, the one that showed up when you got on the train last fall, pulses in your chest.
“I missed you, too.” You lean into the counter. “It’s nice out there, and the people are great, but there’s no Robin Buckley in Indianapolis, which makes it pretty much intolerable. And they don’t even have the Rockwood snow cone place.”
Robin grins, and she opens her mouth to speak, but a sharp inhale from the doorway to the back hall sucks the words out of her mouth.
It sucks all the air out of the room, too.
It’s as if you sense him before you see him. The knot in your chest pushes on your lungs, and it takes everything in you to control your expression as you meet his eyes.
Steve Harrington.
Eight months older, his hair a little longer. Grown into himself, a little more. The bruises and wounds he wore when you left him are nowhere to be found.
Your mouth falls open, though you’re not sure what you plan on saying. If you plan on saying anything at all.
What could you possibly say that would ever be enough?
He’s wearing a pair of light wash jeans and a deep navy Y-neck Henley, and he’s still frustratingly handsome, and he’s still your Steve. Which makes no sense, because he was never actually yours. That was the problem.
His eyes widen, just a bit, and a dozen emotions flicker across his face—shock and confusion and anger and hurt and more—before he shoves an invisible wall up between you. His lips pull into a thin line and his jaw tightens.
“What are you doing here?” he asks. Like it’s a nuisance. Like it’s an inconvenience.
You swallow the icy hurt. Two can play at that game.
“Renting a movie.” You jerk a chin at the aisles of films. “This is a video rental store.”
His brows twitch. He comes up beside Robin at the counter, leaning casually into the corner, and his show of false confidence isn’t lost on you. Eight months haven’t changed him that much. And you spent much longer memorizing him.
“Fine.” He shrugs a shoulder. “What are you doing in Hawkins?”
“My parents live here. Am I not allowed to visit?”
“You are,” Robin says, gaze flicking between you. “And we’re happy to see you. Even if we have a hard time showing it.”
Steve huffs. “Yeah. Happy.” He meets your eyes and lifts his brows. “So much for escape, I guess.”
You narrow your eyes, irritation prickling across your skin like needles, and you open your mouth to snap at him, but before you can, the bell dings over the door. A handful of teens who have just snuffed out a firecracker without even realizing it.
“I’ve got ‘em,” Robin says. To Steve, “And finish sorting those files, because if it’s not done by the time Keith gets in tomorrow, I swear, he’ll actually have an aneurysm, and I really don’t want to deal with it.”
Steve frowns, like he’s considering making a fuss, but in the end, he just tosses a look your way, and heads for the back of the store without another word.
And as much as you’d secretly been waiting for the moment you laid eyes on him again, you’re relieved to see him go.
Something you’d never admit to anyone, even Robin: on cold, lonely nights, you imagined coming home to Hawkins. Coming home to him. You imagined showing up at his doorstep and telling him you were sorry—telling him everything. And in your fantasies, he let you in with open arms.
But this is reality, and in reality, you didn’t make a clean break from this town. It’d be silly of you to expect to come back and find anything but scars.
It’s going to be hell cleaning the blood out of Steve’s seats, but he doesn’t comment on it as he, you, and Robin pile into the car. The blankets handed out by the EMT—which made no sense, because it’s July in Hawkins, and you survived a fire, not a winter storm—form half of a fourth person in Steve’s backseat.
Once Robin is dropped off, it’s just you and Steve in the front, and the tan blankets in the back. Steve drives away from her house, but he slows the car and parks it just down the road, next to a huge chunk of forest, safe from anyone who might be driving this time of night.
You don’t ask why he didn’t just drive you home. You don’t really want to go home.
The EMTs said dozens of people died in the fire that wasn’t a fire. Dozens. Your parents will have questions, and after a day being interrogated by Russian soldiers, you’re in no mood for it.
Steve drops his hands from the wheel.
“We almost died today,” you say softly. “Again.”
“But we didn’t.”
“But we could have.”
He lets out a rattling breath. A second passes, and his fingers slide across the bench seat to bump yours. Another second, and he places his hand atop yours. You flip your palm up, threading your fingers together and squeezing once.
Steve exhales again, but it’s relieved, not strained. Like your touch is pulling some of the horrible day out of his limbs.
“Yeah,” he says. “We could have.”
“How many times can we almost die before we—”
“Don’t,” he interrupts. “Don’t even say that.”
“You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”
Steve closes his eyes. When he opens them, he pulls his hand from yours. He doesn’t say anything, but somehow, that says enough.
With the promise to call Robin later, you slip out of the video store and into the warm, early evening. Your suitcase wheels rattle over the concrete. It’s not a short walk home, but you’re in no hurry, and after an hour of avoiding Steve, you’d walk ten miles if it got you out of that store.
It’s like the universe can read your thoughts. A beat later, red flashes in your peripheral, and a familiar BMW slows beside you where you hug the curb, almost to the parking lot exit.
Steve reaches over and rolls down the passenger window, a hand on the back of the headrest as he peers out at you.  
“Are you walking home?” he asks.
“What does it look like?”
He gives you a patronizing look. For a second, he chews on the inside of his cheek. Dread coils in your stomach—whatever he’s gearing up to, it can’t be good.
With a sharp sigh, he says, “Get in the car.”
Your stomach tumbles. It takes more strength than you’d like to admit keeping your face even as you say, “No,” and continue walking.
Steve’s frustrated curse carries through the window, and he puts just enough gas on the Beemer to catch up to you before he slows down again.
“Get in the car, Y/N.”
“I said no.”
“For the love of—its two miles to your house.”
“I am aware of that, yes,” you say. You and your already worn sneakers are soon to be even more aware. Painfully aware. But that’s better than the alternative.
“You’re being ridiculous. You realize that, right? This is ridiculous,” Steve says.
You keep walking.
Another colorful curse comes from inside the car, and then, the tires skid as he jerks the car to the right, half up on the curb. A few feet to the right, and he’d have tagged you. Except, he wouldn’t, because it’s Steve, and his driving may be reckless, but it’s also impressive, and he knows it. And he knows that you know it.
Screw him for still knowing you. And for assuming you still know him.
He slams the car into park, snaps his head up, and says, “Get in the goddamn car, y/n.”
For a long second, you do nothing but gape at him.
“You almost hit me,” you say.
“No, I didn’t,” he says.
Another second to consider how long this walk will actually be.
Damn it and damn him.
You drag your suitcase toward his car, reaching for the back handle, but Steve is out of the driver’s seat and around the back bumper in a blink, popping open the door. It’s so frustratingly Steve that you can do nothing but toss your suitcase inside. He nudges the back door shut and opens the passenger side, but he doesn’t look at you as he does it. And you don’t look at him as you climb into the car.
Steve pushes the door shut. Hesitates. You see him take a deep breath and return to the driver’s side. He climbs back in, shuts the door harder than you think is necessary, and puts the car into reverse.
“What the hell was that about?” you snap as he pulls the car onto the road, heading toward your neighborhood.
“This is still Hawkins,” Steve says. “And I’m not about to let you wander around at night by yourself.”
“The Mind Flayer is dead,” you say. “Isn’t it?”
A muscle clicks in his jaw. His grip on the wheel tightens.
“Yeah. It’s dead.”
“But… ?”
He flicks a glance your way, like he’s surprised.
“But I have a bad feeling,” he says.
“Don’t you always.”
“Says the one who rode a bad feeling right out of town,” Steve retorts.
He’s right, and he also tends to be right when it comes to anything monster related. But those are sticky subjects, and you’re trying to avoid sticky subjects.
So, instead of taking the bait, you turn up the radio.
When no one is talking, it feels just like it used to. You lost count of the nights you spent in this very spot, driving to nowhere, Steve at the wheel.
And here you are again, in Steve Harrington’s car. Like you were always going to end up back here. Like you never left at all.
“I thought you told them no,” Steve says. He’s been slouched back on the couch for the better part of the afternoon, but the moment you broke the news, he straightened like a rod.
“I did,” you say. You can’t look at him, so you look at the shag carpet, counting the individual threads. “But I guess they saw the reports about the mall and figured having the survivor of such a tragedy at their school was a good look. So, they called and asked if I’d reconsidered. Offered more scholarship money, too.” You risk a glance his way. Every inch of him is rigid. “And I said yes.”
Steve pushes to his feet. The abrupt movement makes him wince and reach for his still-healing ribs.
“You’re leaving?” he asks.
“My move in date is August 21st,” you say. Steve twists to peer at the calendar hanging in your kitchen.
Today is August 7th.
Steve shakes his head and paces in front of the couch. On the settee across from him, you’re immobile, digging your nails into your palms.
“Two weeks ago, the plan was to take classes at the community college this fall and save up,” he says. “What happened to waiting for Robin to graduate? Getting some shitty apartment for the three of us in Indianapolis?” He fixes his stare on you. “What changed?”
You let out a rattling breath. You’ve been planning out this speech since you accepted a spot at the university, but now that it’s here, all the words are out of reach.
“I have to get out of here, Steve,” you say. “If I don’t go now, while I still can, I don’t think I’ll ever escape it.”
“Escape what?”
All of it. The monsters and the tombstones and the empty seats in every cafeteria or arena. The ghosts. The loss. The pain.
And him. You’d be lying if you said part of your reason for going wasn’t him.
Him, and everything you’ve spent so much time wishing you could be—everything you will clearly never be. And regardless of whoever’s fault that is, it has to end with you.
But you can’t tell him that. The fact that you can’t is only another reason to go.
“I just…” You rake a hand through your hair. “I just have this feeling that if I don’t get out of this town, it’s going to kill me.”
Or you’re going to kill me, Steve Harrington, and you won't even know you pulled the trigger.
Steve’s lips form the inevitable beginning of a protest, but you don’t give him the chance.
“Look at me, Steve,” you say, lifting your arms and gesturing to yourself. Coated in bruises and scabs, bandaged and bound. “Look at me and tell me that if I stay, you can guarantee it’ll never get any worse than this.”
He hesitates. And you know he’s thinking about being down in that base, you and Steve and Robin being beaten to bloody pulps—about how you barely made it through this alive.
“The Mind Flayer is dead. It’s over. There’s nothing to run from,” Steve says. And you wish like hell that was true.
“It’s been over before. And then it wasn’t.”
He shakes his head. “Even if it does come back, you’re really okay with just… leaving? Ditching us?”
“I’m not… ditching anyone,” you say, which is definitely a lie. “It’s college. I’ll be home for Thanksgiving.” Another lie.
“Bullshit,” Steve says. “You’re running.”
And he’s right. And you are. Add it to the list of things you won’t admit to Steve Harrington. Already, the list is miles long. What’s another bullet point?
Your driveway is empty. Steve says nothing as he pulls his car up to the curb and puts it in park, but you know what he’s thinking.
There’s always at least one car in the driveway.
He doesn’t say anything as he gets out of the car with you, either, and you’re grateful. You don’t have the guts to ask him to come inside with you. Even if it’s probably nothing, in this town, it could be something. And somethingwas always a lot less scary with Steve at your side.
As you fish your house keys out of your bag, Steve waits at your back, hands in his pockets, humming absently.
He’s nervous. Whether it’s about the empty house or something else, you’re not sure.
You unlock the front door and nudge it open, stepping into the foyer. Steve is close behind, trailing you all the way into the kitchen.
The calendar hanging next to the cabinets pulls your attention.
March 19th to March 26th is highlighted, and BLOOMINGTON is scrawled in your mother’s handwriting.
Shit.
Of course, the one time you try to do something nice and surprise your family after avoiding this town like the plague for almost a year, it’s the week they’re out of town visiting your grandparents.
“Shit,” Steve says, right at your shoulder. You jump, not having heard him approach. He takes two steps back.
Shame burns under your skin. You clear your throat.
“I wanted to surprise them. My parents were so bummed when I didn’t come home for Thanksgiving, or Christmas,” you say.
“Yeah, well, they weren’t the only ones,” Steve says. The dark, empty house only makes his sarcasm drip thicker. “I think you took the surprise thing a bit too far.”
“You really don’t have to rub it in.”
He pouts. “I think I’ve earned the right.”
“You didn’t earn anything,” you snap. “That’s kind of the whole point.”
His eyes go wide, confused and frustrated all at once. “Wait, what—”
“Thanks for the ride,” you say. “But you should probably get going.”
He folds his arms over his chest. “You’re not seriously going to stay here by yourself.”
“I can survive a week in my own house, Steve. And your bad vibes, or whatever, aren’t exactly worthy of me forking over the cash to change my train ticket back. Besides, the next train isn’t until tomorrow. Whether you like it or not, I’m staying in Hawkins tonight.”
“Is your pride worth dying over?”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” you snap. “And if it’s that big of a deal, I can just stay with Robin.”
Steve snorts. “Where, on her bedroom floor? She’s got four sisters. There’s not a spare square foot in that house.”
You scrunch your nose. Stare at him for a long minute.
“You’re not suggesting—”
“My house.”
“Not a chance.”
He scoffs and says, “What, worried you can’t resist jumping my bones the second the lights go out?”
“If I’m jumping your bones, Harrington, it’s to lock my fingers around your throat.”
Steve’s lips turn up in a lopsided grin, and he bats his eyes.
“Is that a promise?”  
You exhale sharply, letting out a curse.
“You’re sleeping on the couch,” you say, jabbing a finger at him.
“Obviously,” he says, and he looks bored as he does, which means he’s anything but.
Harriet Williams’ going away party falls three days before your own departure, and though neither of you are in the party mood, Robin drags you and Steve there, anyway, with the promise of shitty mixed drinks and even shittier music.
And it’s better than sitting in your room thinking, so you agree.
Four cups of whatever concoction is in the kitchen later, you’re glad you came. The house is too full of people, and it’s much too hot, much too loud, and every surface is sticky, but you don’t care. You’re dancing with Steve, and you’re too drunk to feel guilty, and he’s too drunk to be angry at you.
It happens in the silence between songs—no more than five seconds. But it happens. Your lips meet his, and his fingers curl into your waist, and he tastes like cheap tequila and orange juice.
And then he shifts away. And you’re dancing again. And the next day, either Steve doesn’t remember, or he doesn’t want to, because he doesn’t bring it up.
That night, that moment, gets caught in the wind and drifts away.
Steve’s house isn’t deserted. His parents are home, along with his aunt and younger cousins, which means he really will be sleeping on the couch, and not in one of the guest rooms. You’ve only seen his house this full a few times in your life, and it’s almost odd. To tiptoe through his halls instead of just walking.  
But even with the packed house, it all feels so normal. Like you’ve slipped back into some ancient orbit.
Steve sets you up in his room, only leaving to change into a pair of sweats and a tee shirt you and Robin bought him as a joke. Two sizes too big, with a massive eagle spread across the marbled blue fabric, it is undeniably horrendous, but he’s wearing it. And from the looks of the worn fabric, it isn’t the first time.
He doesn’t say much before he heads downstairs. As if he’s afraid speaking will break this tenuous peace you’ve found in the silence.
You’ve both been walking in a memory since leaving your house. You don’t want to step out of it, either. Not yet.
It takes you ten minutes of pacing before you gather the courage to get into the bed. He isn’t even in it, but it’s Steve’s bed. You’ve slept in it a handful of times, mostly after parties in high school, but somehow, it’s more intimate without him in it.
You turn out the lamp and slide under the covers, and you can feel the slightest groove in the mattress formed by years of him sleeping in the same spot.
His scent envelopes you in a second blanket, and tears well in your eyes before you can stop them. You squeeze your eyes shut against them, but one escapes, trailing down your cheek and onto the pillow.
It’s another ten minutes before you can open your eyes without the threat of tears. Thirty more tossing and turning and thinking.
Then, the knob turns on the door. Panic leaps into your throat—it still does, even two hundred miles away at school—and you jerk into a sitting position.
Steve leans into the doorway, his lips pressed together. Seeing you’re awake, he slips inside, closing the door behind him.
“To the shock of nobody, my dad got booted from he and my mom’s room. I’d rather sleep on the floor here than have a shame sleepover with my father in the living room,” he says. He clears his throat. “If that’s cool.”
“Yeah,” you say, and it comes out as more of a squeak. You try again. “Of course.”
“Thanks,” Steve says.
“It is your bedroom,” you say. A smile drifts over his lips, but it’s gone as fast as it comes. He heads for his closet, opening the doors and kneeling to dig out a pile of folded blankets from the back.
“Steve.”
He stills. “Yeah?”
The words are out of your mouth too quick for you to stop them. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor.”
Now he’s really frozen. “What, are you volunteering to swap?”
Your laugh is thin and hollow. It doesn’t even sound like your voice as you say, “Just get in the bed before I change my mind.”
He stands. Turns your way. Looks at you for a long moment, likely trying to decide whether you’re serious. Eventually, he crosses the room, leaving the blankets behind.
You scooch to the side, toward the wall, so he has room. The moonlight streaming in through the window flashes over his clenched jaw.
He climbs into the bed beside you, the mattress sinking just a bit with the added weight.
“Thanks,” he says for the second time since entering the room.
“You’re welcome,” you say, even though it’s his bed in the first place.
Silence hangs in the air, fluttering like sheets on a line, and you lay in wait, praying Steve will fall asleep so you can relax.
But he doesn’t. Instead, you lay side by side, flat on your backs, hands folded over both your stomachs, like matching Victorian children in some twisted double funeral.
Steve whispers your name.
“Hmm?”
“Are you awake?”
“No.”
A pause.
“Can I ask you something?” he asks.
“Can I stop you?”
He laughs softly, but it dies out halfway through.
“Why didn’t you call?”
Your stomach drops.
“Steve—“
“You and me, we used to talk about just taking off and leaving everything behind,” Steve says softly, “but I never actually thought you’d do it.” He shakes his head. “Or I figured you’d at least take me with you. Stupid of me, I guess.”
“Steve—” You say again, as if it’ll make up for what you’ve done.
“Just tell me why,” he says. “Tell me what the hell I did to you, to piss you off so much.”
“You’re serious?”
“As a heart attack,” he says.
“You can’t honestly tell me that you didn’t know how I felt about you,” you say, without meaning to. The subsequent silence is thicker than the first.
“I…” He trails off.
“Yeah,” you say. “That’s what I thought.”
“I was an idiot,” he says, and it’s as if he’s talking to himself, not to you.
“I know,” you say. “Which time are you talking about?”
He laughs, but it’s a little sad. He hesitates a moment before he speaks again.
“The day you left…” He pauses. Like he’s trying to organize his words. “The second you left my house after saying goodbye, I felt this pit in my stomach, and I realized it wasn’t new. It’d been there a long time. And it just kept getting worse.” He laces his hands behind his head. “I actually called Robin, at like, midnight that night, told her I thought I was dying, and she just said, ‘You’re not dying, dingus, your heart is broken.’” Another long pause follows. “I don’t even think I realized until right then that I—” He stops. He always stops.
Or you do. But you always end up here, a foot from the finish line, neither of you brave enough to cross it.
And you’re not sure what to say to all that, or what it means, so you just say his name again, softly, almost a plea.
“You know, I wasn’t mad at you for leaving Hawkins,” he goes on. “I mean, I’d have to be a complete and total asshole to be angry that my best friend got a killer scholarship to a college far the hell away from this place.”
“You seemed pretty angry,” you say.
“Yeah, well, I was angry, but I wasn’t angry about that. I was pissed that you ditched me, like we didn’t spend ten years surviving this town together.” In your peripheral vision, his chest rises and falls rapidly, like he’s angry or nervous or some combination.  “Like none of it mattered.”
“It all mattered,” you say, fiercer than you intend. “That was why I had to go.”
“What?” He’s looking at you now, and you force yourself to meet his eyes. You’ve braved scarier creatures than the truth.
“I told you that I left Hawkins because I had to get away from the monsters. And that was mostly true. But I wasn’t just running from monsters. I was running from you.”
His mouth opens, and abruptly shuts.
“I spent ten years loving you, Steve. Ten years waiting for you to figure it out, or do something, but you never did, and I… I couldn’t do it anymore.”
“Couldn’t do what?”
“Pretend not to,” you say. “Pretend that you did. Pretend that one day you could. I don’t know. All I know is that every time you called me and asked me for help, I dropped everything and came running. I couldn’t keep dropping everything for someone who didn’t even want to carry it in the first place.”
He chews on his cheek for a beat, and now, he’s the one avoiding your gaze.
“When we were younger, I thought that maybe you—” He lets out a sigh. “But then we got older, and it seemed like you didn’t anymore, and then we got to high school, and Eleven ripped open a hole to another universe, and then you were gone. I mean, I waited weeks for you to call. Told myself you just hadn’t set up your new number yet.”
He’s circling his own admission like a shark around chum, and you’ve known him long enough to see that, but the gap in time has robbed you of the ability to tell what it is.
“I got it wrong,” you say. “I got scared, and I didn’t know what to do, and it was like… like I couldn’t even think. I just had to run. But I was wrong. I was wrong, and I should have just come to you, told you what I felt, but I didn’t.” You roll onto your side to face him. “But what would it have changed, anyway?”
He mirrors your position.
“Everything,” he says. “Something. I don’t know. I don’t know because you never said anything.” He inhales. “But I never said anything, either.”
Shock renders you silent. Steve catches your gaze, and immediately looks away.
“You know, sometimes, I wonder what it’d have been like if we did things the right way. I think maybe it could have worked out, if I met you in Biology class and not on some battlefield.”
Your stomach churns. “And by it…?”
“I mean us,” he says. Shakes his head. “But we didn’t meet in Biology. And we sure as hell didn’t do things the right way. We—I—royally fucked it up, actually. I know it’s too late to mean anything, but I’ll never stop being sorry for everything that went wrong with you. ”
Some of your anger softens, revealing what lies beneath it—sadness. Because you’re not really angry at Steve, not the way he or you would think. Because you were young and stupid, and you still are, in a lot of ways. Because sometimes you can be angry just because.
“It wasn’t all your fault,” you say. “We were just kids. We were already dealing with… well, not the end of the world, but pretty close to it. And it’s not like I can be mad at you for… for anything, after what I did.”
“Still,” Steve says.
“Yeah,” you say. “Still.”
Because what more is there? You fucked up, or he did, or you both did, and now, here you are, on the other side of the wreckage. And you’re not sure whether or not it's salvageable. If you even want it to be.
“Promise you’ll call,” Steve says, his voice muffled by your hair. He pulls back, and his expression is sincere, so Steve it hurts to look at. “Promise you won’t forget about me.”
Tears well in your eyes, but you don’t force them away. Instead, you let them fall and hope that Steve believes them as something different than they are. And you tell him, “I promise,” even though you’ve already made yourself a very different promise.
To leave Steve Harrington and Hawkins behind.
He pulls you in for another hug, this one tighter than the last, and when you pull back, neither of you moves back all the way, and your forehead finds his, and your noses bump, and you can almost taste the kiss, and—
Steve shifts away.
Your eyes snap open in time to see his Adam's apple bob. You clear your throat and extricate yourself from his arms.
“I gotta go,” you say. “I have a train to catch.”
Steve’s lips part.
You want him to ask you to stay. You want it more than you’ve ever wanted anything.
But he doesn’t. So you don’t.
You wake up to the soft, steady rhythm of a heartbeat and a warm arm slung loosely over your waist. Before you open your eyes, your brain registers the scent as Steve, and though it should be surprising to wake up like this, for some reason, it doesn’t feel weird.
And when he opens his eyes, when he sees you, he acts like it isn’t weird, either.
“Tell me about school,” Steve says, as if you’ve done this a hundred times, in this very spot, with his hand on your hip. “Do you like it? Do you live in a dorm with, like, five roommates?”
A smile pulls on your lips. You’re not sure what magic spell you’ve both stumbled into, but for the moment, you don’t want to break it. To be honest, you’re not entirely sure you’re awake.
So, you tell him. You tell him about your classes, and about the friends you’ve made, and about your roommates, of which there are two, not five, who are actually very nice. All the time you talk, he doesn’t pull his arm away from you, and you don’t pull back.
It feels like everything it could have been.
Then, he asks you another question.
“Are you happy?”
And you hesitate.
“I’m… getting there,” you say. “But nobody there knows me like Hawkins does—” You lift your eyes to his, and you know he’s thinking the same thing you are. Nobody knows me like you do. “—and I’m worried that they never will.”
Steve stills. Shifts back, taking his arm with him and leaving cold in its absence. You’re not even sure what you said to make him move back, or if the magic spell just broke.
He sits up, and the marbled shirt has ridden halfway up his back, revealing a stretch of tan, scarred skin.
“You know why that is, don’t you?” he asks. He turns his face just enough for you to see his profile, jaw clenched and brows furrowed.
It’s your turn to sit up.
“What are you trying to say?”
He shifts all the way toward you. “I’m saying, there’s a reason you weren’t happy in Hawkins, and there’s a reason you aren’t happy in Indianapolis.” You haven’t heard him talk like this in a long time, since high school, but unlike high school, he doesn’t sound mean. It’s just that confidence, but now, it’s real. “I played my part in what happened with us, or didn’t happen, or whatever, but it takes two to tango.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
He presses his lips together.
“The day you left, if I had asked you to stay in Hawkins, what would you have said?” he asks.
“I—” The words evaporate on your tongue. You would have what? Would you have stayed? Was the version of you that dropped everything and fled even ready to be asked that question, let alone answer it?
“You don’t let anybody get close enough to love you,” he says. “And I’m sorry I didn’t try hard enough, but you can’t say it was just me, or just us being dumb kids. And you sure as hell can’t outrun that. ” He inhales sharply, but the words are out, and there is no taking them back.
You throw the covers off and climb out of his bed, jamming your feet into your sneakers and grabbing the first hoodie you see off the top of your suitcase.
“Screw you, Harrington,” you snap.
“Wait—” Steve scrambles out of bed behind you, but you don’t wait to hear the rest of what he has to say.
You push through his door and into the hall, storming down the hall and the stairs, ignoring the chatter coming from the kitchen and Steve’s family, out the front door into a literal storm.
Thunder cracks over your head, and the rain falls in cold sheets, but you’d rather walk through the storm than stay a minute longer. You trudge down the porch and the driveway, Steve’s words ringing in your ears.
You sure as hell can’t outrun that.
You come to a stop in the middle of the pot-holed lined street in front of the Harrington house. Running. That’s exactly what you’re doing. Again.
The front door swings open, and Steve runs down the porch, wearing just his sweats, horrible animal shirt, and an untied pair of sneakers. Panic lines his face until his eyes find yours, and he relaxes, just for a second, before his expression twists again.
He jogs into the road, just off the curb.
“Steve, I’m not—”
“No,” Steve says. “Wait. I need to say something. It’s something I should have said a long time ago.” He swipes the hair and water out of his eyes, closing the distance between you, until you’re barely a foot apart. His chest heaves.
“Eight months ago, when you told me you were leaving, I should have asked you to stay. And every day for eight months, I’ve regretted it. So, I’m asking you now. Please, stay.” He licks his lips, and you get caught on the droplets of rain lining his mouth. “I mean, don’t drop out of college, because that’d be crazy, but… you know what I mean.” He shakes his head. “I’ve been in love with you since we were fourteen, and I should have told you a lot longer than eight months ago, but I—“
It should take more than that, but you’ve been waiting longer than eight months to hear it, and you’re moving before you consciously decide to.
You press your lips to his, and his mouth parts under yours, and he tastes like rain and a little like morning breath, but you don’t care. You wrap your arms around his neck, and his wind around your waist, and you’re pressed so close together that even the rain can’t get through.
When Steve pulls back, his pupils blown and his breathing uneven, he just dips his forehead against yours, never releasing you from his arms.
“I know we always talked about Indianapolis,” you whisper. “But do you think Robin might be willing to move to Indianapolis instead? I can move off campus next year.”
Steve shifts away, eyes snapping open, a wide smile spreading across his face. He presses a kiss to your forehead, and says, “I think she could be convinced.”
“And you?”
“I’m all yours,” he says. “If you’ll have me.”
You smile, and lean in to kiss him again. And though it took you a while to get back to it, the road you almost didn’t take looks pretty good now.
-
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megamindslair · 10 months
Text
It's a Little Warm, Part 1
Moving my fics to @megamindsecretlair
Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. There is some making out, unresolved tension! Bucky x Blackfem!reader. Plus Size Reader. Mentions of private parts but really mild. Cursing. Mild age gap. Reader is late 20s and Bucky is mid 30s. Soft Bucky. Part 1 of ?, I don't know how long this will take to wrap up. Slow burn to smut though. Some sentences are intentional AAVE.
Summary: Sam Wilson is your play uncle and has invited you and Bucky to stay at a cabin with him, Sarah, and the kids. Bucky was sweet enough to help with your bags. You also found yourself up in the wee hours of the morning with him.
Word Count: 4,221k
Read Part 2
A/N: I've been reading a lot of age gap fics at cabins and wanted to try my spin. Apologies if I miss any warnings or this is super corny. But here we go!
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“Kinfolk!” Uncle Sam yelled and shoved past people in his quest to scoop you into his arms and spin you around. You yelped, not used to anyone swinging you around like a doll. You were short but far from petite and the sudden loss of your feet firmly planted to the ground made your stomach flip. 
“Put me down!” You yelled. You slapped at his massive arms but that only made him chuckle. Mercifully, he stopped turning and set you on your feet. “Look at you!” 
You rolled your eyes. “I just saw ya’ll last week!” 
His chuckle was quick as he threw his head back. “You barely come out of the house, I got to comment on the special occasion.”
You twist your lips and roll your eyes. “I see being Captain Chocolate has made you even cornier,” you said.
Uncle Sam laughed and threw his arm over your shoulder. “Oh, see you got jokes. I see working for that newspaper ain’t help with them lame ass nicknames. I thought you had a better vocabulary than that?” 
“Somehow I always forget it when I come around ya’ll,” you said. Uncle Sam only chuckled. “Where’s your bags?” 
“Got it in the car for now,” you said. 
Uncle Sam frowned. “Give me a minute, I’ll come help you,” he said. 
“I’m perfectly capable of bringing up my own bags,” you said. 
“That ain’t what I said. C’mon and say hi to Sarah. She’s glad there will be another woman this week,” he said. You follow Uncle Sam through the cabin, weaving through close friends of his and Aunt Sarah. 
The cabin had an open plan for the living room and dining room. People milled around watching a football game and sitting on large, comfortable couches. The dining room was cottage chic as a few of the elderly people sat around it talking and fanning themselves. Kids nearly pushed you over as they ran through the cabin.
“Say ‘excuse me’ next time!” Uncle Sam called after them. A chorus of “excuse me’s” rang out as you waved them off. Finally, you made it through the sea of people into the kitchen where various aunties were passing around bowls and spoons and tinfoil. 
They smiled at you and you were passed around like the last piece of pie as everyone got in their hugs and kisses and well wishes. The last person to hug you was Aunt Sarah. She hugged you just as hard as Uncle Sam did. 
“Damn, ya’ll would’ve thought I died or something,” you said. 
Sarah laughed. “Oh my god! I’m just so happy it’s not just me staying here this week. Sam gets his puppy, I should get one too,” Sarah said and laughed, pushing her braids behind her ears. 
Before you could ask what she meant, a booming grandfatherly voice called out for Sam. He told them that he’d be right back and headed out of the open side door towards the backyard. Smoke rose into the air as a full barbeque station was being managed by an elderly man with a cap and New Balance shoes on. You shook your head. Every time.
You opened your mouth to ask what Sarah meant by the puppy comment but movement to your left caught your eye. A man entered the kitchen in a soft burgundy shirt and jeans and large dusty boots. He scanned the room before spotting Sarah and broke into a wide grin.
He was simply gorgeous. It was the type of smile that could stop traffic. Perhaps even cure cancer if he grinned hard enough. His eyes crinkled in the corners as he approached. 
“You must be Sam’s niece,” he said and extended his hand. 
“Uh yes, nice to meet you, Mr. Barnes,” you said and took his hand. His hand was rough and calloused and slid across your soft palm, making your hand tingle. 
He smirked and shook his head. “Ugh, Mr. Barnes makes me sound old. I’m not that old. Bucky is fine,” he said.
“You are that old, you old dinosaur,” Uncle Sam said, materializing right next to you. He clapped you on the back, making you jump. “He’s so old, Moses asked him to lead the choir,” Uncle Sam said and laughed.
The group laughed and Bucky rolled his eyes. “At least I don’t have any gray hairs,” Bucky said. 
“Ay man, you take that back. That’s hurtful,” Uncle Sam said and smoothed down his faded haircut. 
You couldn’t take your eyes off of Bucky Barnes. It had been wild hearing about the man from Uncle Sam and Aunt Sarah, but seeing him in person was an entirely different experience. 
Aunt Sarah leaned her hip against the counter and looked between the two men. “See, Sam gets his puppy and I get another human being to talk to. Once you get these two started, they keep going on and on,” she said. 
You narrowed your eyes and tilted your head. “Bucky’s staying with us for the week too. It’s rare they come home at the same time these days. So we’re gonna make a thing out of it,” Aunt Sarah explained the unspoken question lingering in the air.
“Ah, gotcha.” 
“Hey, we bring the sunshine and the good vibes. All day, baby. Now, pass over the keys,” Uncle Sam said and held his hand out. 
You shook your head. “I can get it, it’s not a big deal.” 
The cook for the festivities called for Uncle Sam again. He groaned and nodded towards Bucky. “Wrestle the keys from her so we can help with her bags and take it upstairs. She’s stubborn.” 
“Stubborn doesn’t work on us, doll,” Bucky said and turned that mega-watt smile on you. You sighed and fought to keep all kinds of dirty thoughts out of your mind. Could super soldiers read minds? 
“Hey, hey, hey! None of that. Paws off!” Uncle Sam said.
“Oh my god,” you groaned. Your cheeks instantly flamed and you were grateful for your darker skin. It hid the obvious signs of a blush. You turned to Aunt Sarah for help who laughed and shook her head. She gave you a pitying look as if to say she wouldn’t be any help. She looked Bucky up and down and winked at you. 
“You’re not really my uncle, you know,” you said. 
“I’m your uncle in the ways that matter. Don’t make me bring a hose in here. It’s hard enough keeping the aunties off of him.” 
The cook called out for Uncle Sam again. He gave them a warning glare before you turned back to Bucky who held out his metal hand. It had intricate designs etched into it and seemed really, really advanced. You half wondered if it was from that famous Wakanda. You’d just about die to have a chance to go there one day. 
“I can get it myself. You don’t have to bother,” you said. You backed away, bumping into random partygoers talking in the kitchen. The press of bodies seemed to double as you backed away towards the front door. You knew you should have brought your things inside earlier. But you were already running late and just wanted to unwind from the long drive. 
Bucky stalked forward, patient as a hunter, with his arm still outstretched. His grin turned into a patient smirk. 
“Right, being stubborn doesn’t work on you,” you said. 
His answering smirk was enough to melt your panties. You looked away from him. If he couldn’t read your mind, he could at least read your facial expressions. And none of your thoughts were holy. 
You dug into the back pocket of your shorts and slapped your keys into his hand. “Thanks, doll,” he said.
You had, hand to god, actual shivers run down your spine. His voice had the right amount of gravel in it to skate over your nerve endings. And you weren't even standing that close to him. 
Bucky held out his hand for you to lead the way and you took the opportunity to calm your racing heart and nerves. He was a solid wall of heat at your back as you maneuvered your way to the front door. Your sandals slapped against the hardwood floor but even with his boots, he was silent. You felt like a bull in a china shop. 
You gave yourself a pep talk. Somehow, someway, you were supposed to survive an entire week with that. You supposed it was true. You should never meet your idols. You might get the overwhelming urge to climb them like a tree. 
Okay, thoughts like that weren’t going to help. You supposed you could limit your contact as much as possible. Hide out in the room or down by the lake. Anything. As long as it meant you weren’t right next to the man. 
You led Bucky outside and towards the makeshift parking lot. A dizzying array of nearly every make and model crowded the rented cabin’s lawn and rocky driveway. You had to park a little ways away and walk down to the cabin. Making it to your beat up Honda, you waved to it. 
Bucky smirked and popped the trunk. You had two suitcases, plus your laptop bag. You moved to grab one and Bucky tsked at you. He tsked at you as if you were a child! 
“You don’t like people doing things for you, do you?” Bucky asked with a smirk. He bent down to retrieve your bags. He didn’t even grunt at the weight. This was your poor attempt to pack light. But since you were a big girl, your clothes didn’t roll up all cute and tiny. You had to adjust and shove things until they fit enough for the suitcase to close. 
“I’m not used to it. Makes me feel weird,” you said. 
“Why’s that?” 
“I don’t know. Makes me feel useless. I feel like I should help,” you said. He got the second suitcase down and slipped your laptop bag over his shoulders. You closed the trunk.
“So you were going to haul all of this to the cabin tonight by yourself?” 
“Yes?” You hadn’t meant to make it a question, but he asked as if he were scolding you. You fought an eye roll and bit the inside of your cheek. He was being nice. But it still grated. As far as the City of Nawlins was concerned, you were a full growed adult. 
“It gets pretty dark out here. It could’ve gotten dangerous. A random car could hit you or a wild animal could trip you up,” he said. 
“You always so fatalistic?” 
“I’ve had reason to be,” he said.
Right. Doofus. “I am so-”
“Don’t be,” he said with a smirk. “Once you fight scaly purple monster-aliens, it’s hard not to see danger everywhere. Just because you can do things by yourself doesn’t mean you can’t accept a little help. Okay?” 
You nodded slowly, feeling like a proper idiot. Of course the man was fatalistic. You didn’t know everything about him. Most of it came from Antman’s book or Uncle Sam’s stories, and it wasn’t the whole story. Still, it was enough to know that Bucky had more than enough reason to be wary of potential danger. 
You took a deep breath and avoided looking at him. He carried your bags into the house and up the stairs. He nodded towards a door a few paces down the hallway. You opened it to find a spacious room, decorated with a nautical theme. You smiled at the blue and white scheme, the anchor pictures on the wall, and the goofy full sized bed. 
Bucky gently set your bags on the floor and your laptop bag on the small desk. As he leaned over, his shirt rode up a bit revealing creamy skin and subtle muscles. 
“What’s that, doll?” Bucky asked as he straightened. 
“What?” You asked, a little too loud. You looked at him and he put his hands on his waist as he surveyed the room.
“I thought you said something,” he said. Did he have to draw attention to his tiny ass waist? Seriously. This man couldn’t be real. It was like he stepped out of a smut book. He was the definition of sexy as sin. Everything he did was seductive. 
“Figured you’d get the better room,” he muttered with a sigh. But you got the sense that he was teasing. You looked around and noticed the huge window. You went to it and peeked out over the backyard. Uncle Sam was leading the group dance along to a Tupac song. 
You turned with a smile to tell Bucky but you noticed his eyes dart up to your face. Was he…?
No way. You shook your head. “Where’s your room?” You asked.
“Right across the hall. Just holler if you need anything, I’m a light sleeper.” 
Your mind wandered to how he would look asleep. His dark hair tousled and floofy. You bet he slept without a shirt on. He seemed the type. Plus he was like a furnace. He probably got hot. Which meant…
“Uh right. That must suck. I sleep like a little brick,” you said. Your cheeks burned again. 
“I haven’t slept that well since before the war,” he said and shrugged. “You okay?” 
“I’m fine. I probably just need some water. It’s a little warm in here. I mean outside. I mean today,” you said with a laugh. You looked at the floor and closed your eyes. Yup. Operation Avoid Bucky At All Costs commenced now. 
“Well come on. We better get downstairs before Sam steals all the ribs like last time. I thought food lasted longer at cookouts?” Bucky asked. 
You laughed. “Rule number one of cookouts: make your to-go plate before your real plate,” you said. 
He backed out of the room with a grin. You followed and closed your bedroom door behind you. 
“You’ll have to explain that one,” he said. 
You explained the intricacies of cook out etiquette as you headed down the stairs and on the way outside. Bucky listened and didn’t interrupt no matter how many side stories and funny anecdotes you told. Once outside, Uncle Sam waved from the dance area. 
Uncle Sam moved and shimmied his way through dances, making everyone around him laugh. He wore long, navy shorts and a light blue shirt. You shook your head as he tried to twerk and made everyone nearly fall out with laughter. 
You stood side by side with Bucky as you watched. You kept all of your focus on Uncle Sam. You absolutely did not notice how heavenly Bucky smelled or how he blocked the sun for you. 
Aunt Sarah called your name and you looked behind you. She sat at a table and waved. She pointed to a plate she made for you. Your stomach chose then to grumble. You waved back to acknowledge her. 
“I better…” 
“I’ll catch you around,” he said with a small smile. He headed off into the swarm of people with ease saying hi and clapping people on the back. 
You took a deep breath. Maybe food was exactly what you needed. If you were too busy stuffing your face, you didn’t have time to think about Bucky Barnes. 
💘
You were burning up. For such an open room, the southern heat was eating you alive. You had already kicked off most of your pjs, leaving nothing but an oversized T-shirt and your panties. In a minute, you were going to take that off too, but you desperately needed some water.
You got out of bed, fumbling around in the dark. You stubbed your toe on the corner of a dresser and bit the inside of your cheek to keep from yowling. You danced in place until the sharp pain subsided.
You had no idea what time it was but after the party, cleaning up, and trading stories around the kitchen table, everyone peeled off for bed around two or three in the morning. The sun wasn’t yet up so you only managed to get an hour or so of sleep. 
Your tongue was dry and thick. You moved it around, trying to get your spit going. That last tequila shot definitely did you in. You sighed heavily as you padded down the hallway and the stairs. 
The silence was near deafening as you crossed the wide open space. The cabin was dark but there was enough ambient light from the open curtains letting in moon light. You could see enough to cross the living room towards the kitchen.
You opened the fridge door and bent over to look for leftover water bottles. You danced a bit as you tried to focus long enough to find a bottle. The fridge blew cold air that washed over your flushed skin. You scratched absently at your bonnet. 
Finally finding some water, you uncapped it and stood up to down nearly half the bottle. You turned around and screamed, jumping back into the fridge door. Bucky sat at the kitchen table. The light from the fridge gave him an otherworldly appearance.
Bucky stood up instantly and crossed the small space towards you. He held out his hands to steady you. “You okay? I’m sorry,” he said. 
You slapped him away and scrambled for the nearest light switch. “You scared me half to death!” 
Miraculously, you drank too much for the water to slosh out of the bottle so none of it spilled. You clutched the cool bottle to your racing heart. Your hands shook and you took deep breaths to calm down. 
Bucky had the good nerve to wince before closing the fridge door. “I’m truly sorry,” he said.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” You asked.
Bucky chuckled. “Well, I wasn’t trying to scare you. A random voice in the night would’ve scared you more,” he said. 
You flopped into the nearest kitchen chair. You were too hot and too shaken up to care that you wore a bonnet around Bucky. There was no need to avoid him now. You were about as sexy as a paper clip. 
He dropped back into his seat. Now that you were calming down, you noticed that true to your daydreams, his hair was pleasantly tousled. He didn’t wear a shirt but he did have dog tags hanging from his neck. His metal arm gleamed in the low light. 
“Couldn’t sleep either?” You asked.
He smirked. “Not really,” he said. 
“Nightmares? Want to talk about it? I’ve been told I’m an excellent listener,” you said.
He absently rubbed a spot on the wooden table. “Wasn’t a nightmare this time. Actually had a dream. For the first time in a long time.” 
You looked at him as he held a smirk, but there was no humor in it. You sat patiently, giving him the space to talk about it or not. It didn’t seem like he was inclined, so you sipped your water and listened to the subtle animal sounds from outside. 
“It wasn’t anything fancy. Quite boring actually. I dreamt I was back in Wakanda. It was peaceful there,” he said softly.
A million questions danced in your head. But you nodded and smiled at him to continue. “There was a small lake where I used to sit for hours and just be. I didn’t get a lot of chances to do that in my life. Being here just made me miss it, I guess,” he said.  
“I get that. Dream freaked you out enough to come sit in the dark by your lonesome?” You asked.
He chuckled and nodded. “I can’t always trust what’s in my head. Sometimes I need to ground myself and I’m still getting used to how soft beds are these days,” he said.
“Oh, they make them firmer. Like sleeping on an ironing board,” you said. 
Bucky chuckled and shook his head. “I’ve slept on worse,” he said. 
“Ugh, no thank you. Give me the softest bed you can find. I wanna disappear into an infinite void of clouds and pillows and blankets,” you said. 
Bucky grinned and looked at you. “Don’t you have to be this tall to even climb into the bed?” He held up his hand to exaggerate how short you were. You stuck your tongue out at him. 
“Next to you, everyone’s short,” you said.
“And yet you’re still the shortest,” he said and laughed. You leaned up and slapped his regular arm. 
“You’ve been hanging around Uncle Sam too long,” you said.
Before you could pull back, Bucky grabbed your wrist and prevented you from moving back. He rubbed lazy circles as he looked at you.
“Why do you call him Uncle?” 
Your heart rate sped up for different reasons. His touch was feather soft and sent all kinds of crazy signals to your belly. 
“I grew up around their family for years. But when Sam joined the Air Force, I called him Uncle Sam as a joke. Kind of stuck. He already saw himself as my older brother so we kept it. Sarah felt left out so I called her Auntie,” you explained.
Bucky hummed and nodded. He glanced down at the circles he was making on your wrist. 
“Where’s your family?” He asked.
You shrugged. “Deadbeat, emotionally abusive parents. I ditched them a long time ago and I don’t talk to them.” 
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“S’okay. Good riddance. Sam and Sarah and the boys are all I need. If you’re gonna keep coming around, I guess that includes you too,” you said.
Bucky chuckled and finally released your wrist. “You should probably try to get some sleep. Apparently, Sam has plans scheduled for the whole week,” Bucky said softly. 
“Sam loves his plans. You gonna get some rest?” You asked.
“I’ll try,” he said. 
You nodded. You stood up and moved to walk past him. But you stopped and bit your lip. You reached up and stroked his cheek. 
“I hope you get some sleep,” you said. You didn’t quite want the spell to break yet. It was early morning and the house was quiet. In the moments you spent down here, your body had cooled. However, standing so close to him while his clean soapy scent enveloped you, your body heated up for entirely different reasons. 
You slid your fingers under his chin and made him look up at you. His lips parted as he looked from between your eyes to your lips. He sighed as he trailed his fingers along your thighs. You made a squeak as the cold metal of his arm touched your heated skin. 
He skirted his fingers up and beneath the hem of your shirt, but he didn’t press further. He drew more lazy circles into your skin. 
Fuck it. You leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He sighed again, against your lips, and tugged you closer until you were straddling his thick thigh. You braced one hand on his other thigh and the other around his metal shoulder. 
He devoured you in a strong kiss, teeth clashing against each other. His tongue swiped against your lower lip before you opened for him. His tongue dived inside and slid against your own. 
His metal arm wrapped around you to keep you steady. His hand was better than a brace as it kept you from slipping off of him. His other hand came up to stroke your jaw before wrapping around your neck.
Not even you could keep the needy moan from escaping your lips. His lips moved over yours with expert care. Your hands came up to feather into his hair and trail down to the nape of his neck where you lightly scratched him.
A shudder moved through him that you felt all the way to your pussy. You shamelessly grinded on his leg. There was nothing but his sweatpants and your panties keeping you from skin on skin contact but you were sure he could feel how damp you were already. You’d be embarrassed except your thoughts were consumed with him. With touching him and feeling your nipples rub against his bare chest.
As soon as the kiss started, Bucky pulled away from you. Your harsh breaths mingled with his as you both panted. He plucked your hands from around his neck and held them in between you like a silent prayer. He got a faraway look in his eyes as he stared at your hands. 
He leaned down and kissed your fingers before leaning back and staring at the ceiling. Almost as if he were staring straight into Uncle Sam’s room. 
“You should go back upstairs,” he panted. 
You wanted to be angry. He didn’t get to just dismiss you. You practically threw yourself at him and that realization was enough to dump ice water in your veins. How embarrassing. 
You got up slowly and nodded. Without saying another word, you left the kitchen. Cool air hit the sweat along your face and neck and you shivered from the lack of heat. His heat. But you were a grown woman. You would be okay. 
You trudged all the way to your room and closed the door before falling face first into bed with a soft groan. 
What, the actual fuck just happened?
Read Part 2
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horrorstolemyheart · 2 years
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Cliché
Notes: CLICHE AS FUCK! Hence the title. But I guess that's ok sometimes, definitely has a run of the mill person A and person B like each other but they both never act on it, Yada Yada yada... I know. But I'm in the process of dragging myself out of writers block. Also I hope this isn’t as bad as I think, a mixture of my first time writing for this character, and the fact that I’ve tweaked and re-read this fic so much that I’m starting to hate it a little. And this is the first thing I've written in a while. But I hope that it isn’t too messy lol.
Warnings: Cursing
Pairing(s): Eddie Munson x reader
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Every damn time.
His heart skipped a beat when you joined the group of boys at lunch. The smile upon your lips made his face turn a shade of pink, not unnoticed by Jeff and Gareth. He felt a kick to the ankle from under the table and scowled. They were just two of the people who’d been trying to get him to ask you out for ages.
You were funny, smart, and one of the few people who didn’t think he was a freak. Eddie was head over heels.
“Gentlemen.” You greeted with a small bow.
He grinned, “Y/N.”
“Eddie” you always gave him a separate acknowledgement. Unknown to him, your heart also skipped that one beat upon seeing him. It was anything but subtle. Both completely entranced with the other and yet so oblivious to it.
All your friends knew that you and Eddie were smitten from the start. Gareth and Jeff poked fun at the Dungeon Master and he'd scrunch up his face, refusing the onslaught of teases. He wasn't even safe from the freshmen. Dustin, Mike, and Lucas had even had their fun with their fellow Hellfire Club member. You, on the other hand, had Steve and Robin to deal with at work. Both of whom were savvy to your crush on Eddie.
God, it was cliché. Which is probably why you ignored the feelings of attraction, it was a dumb high school crush. You were a senior and this would probably be the year he would graduate as well and then what? You'd both walk across the stage, accept your diplomas, and then maybe see each other a few times after graduation. So you made a promise you’d keep those feelings hidden. The fact that you even got to be friends with the guy was enough for you. Or that’s what you told yourself.
Most lunch periods you brought your sketchbook along. You'd been friends with Johnathan Byers which initially drew the four, now three, younger DnD players to you. And you were happy to turn their imagined scenes into a reality. Nowadays though, it was usually Dustin asking for sketches.
“Y/N! Ok, ok, so I have another request,” Dustin quipped as you pulled your sketchbook out.
“Yes, great artificer.”
Oh, and you were an incredible artist. Another reason the metal head was in love with you. You did wonders in bringing the scenes described to life. You may not have played the game, but as Dungeon Master, he had declared you an honorary Hellfire Club member. His explanation was that seeing the game played may spark some inspiration, obviously this was only part of the reason.
Lunch had flown by quickly. Students began packing up their stuff just before the bell rang, signaling everyone back to their classes. Back to the droning of teachers' lectures and scanning through textbooks.
Dustin glanced over your shoulder at his drawing in progress, which you covered up.
“Ah, ah! Patience is a virtue young man,” you smirk, “I’ll have it to you in a day or two.”
“Alright, alright. I can’t wait, I know it’s gonna be awesome! See ya later , Y/N!” With that the boy ran to catch up with Mike.
You began to place your sketchbook back into your bag, and double checked you had all your effects in order. The seat opposite you creaked as Eddie sat down gently. It was clear he wanted something.
“Alright, spit it out," you inquire, letting out a snicker, "I can tell you wanna say something, you’re terrible at hiding it.”
“I just… wanted to say that I think you’re an amazing artist." Eddie pressed his lips into a thin line.
“Um, thank you. I’m not that good, but that means a lot Eddie,” You turn to face him square on, “But let’s cut the bullshit. What do you want?”
“Bullshit? No, I mean it, Y/N, every word!" anxiously, he fiddles with his rings, "Sooo… I was just wondering…”
You nod for him to go on.
“Well. um, would you possibly… I dunno,” he pauses and a blush begins to grow on his face, “If you would possibly design a tattoo for me?”
It takes a moment to set in, and you have to admit you’re a bit shocked, “R-really?”
Studying his face it was easy to tell the shaggy-haired boy was being serious. Eddie was, afterall, a man of his word. With that you decided to push the envelope a bit. After a moment you stood up as if to leave, catching Eddie off guard. Draping your bag over your shoulder, you tap your chin in mock contemplation over the request.
“Hm, I don’t know. It’ll cost you…” Eddie stood up as well, desperate to hear what you had in mind.
“What? Dustin doesn't have to pay, but I do?”
"No, no. I'm not asking for money. I’ll design you a tattoo," drawing out a pause for effect, all your promises to yourself flew out the window.
"If you take me on a date.”
Those words had spilled out before they could be stopped. Fuck. Desperately you tried to save yourself from further humiliation.
"Shit. Uh, y-you know, that was a joke right? I just, uh… I wanted to...” The act was over before it had begun. How could you be so stupid? The thudding of your heart could be heard in your ears.
Eddie’s eyes widened, "Wait... you really want me to take you on a date?"
"Eddie, please don't fuck with me. Look, just forget it, ok? I don't need anything in return for a drawing." the only thing on your mind was salvaging a possibly ruined friendship.
His face was sympathetic, "Sounded like a win-win situation, if I’m being honest. But, I'd love to take you out, Y/N. I just… never knew if you’d want to go out with me.” It was clear he was just as nervous to admit his feelings as you’d been.
"God, you don’t know how relieved I am. I’ve wanted to go out with you since we met! But it just felt so cliche. I figured it'd probably turn out as one of those situations where you didn't reciprocate and then I would have ruined our friendship and–"
"Y/N. You talk too much."
Eddie’s gaze shifted between you and the exit door. Grabbing your hand, he yanked you along with him.
“C’mon.”
"Eddie, where the hell are you taking me?"
"Uh, on a date?"
"You're gonna skip school to take me out? I thought you wanted to graduate this year?"
"I've been a good boy. I've been coming to school, one day won't stop me."
"Plus," he turns to face you, eyes gleaming, "You are much more important."
You give in, “Mm… fine.”
"Just remember you owe me some new ink for this date, and for making me ditch school,"
This earned him a smack on the arm with the hand currently not being held.
"Oh, haha! More like making me ditch school!" You both try to suppress the giggles as you rush out the exit doors. And all it took was him asking for a drawing. Your friends were not going to let either of you live this down.
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lazysublimeengineer · 1 month
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the viscount who loves his princess - I
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Summary: “A new romance has bloomed in one enchanting night? Princess Senju and Viscount Mikey share a special night together under the radiant garden of the Palace.” Takeomi read loudly on the first page of broadside that morning.
Senju could only heave a deep breath before sipping the cup of Earl Grey slowly to her lips.
“You’ve been seeing Viscount Mikey without any chaperone? Lady Whistledown is having a field day with your scandals.” Haruchiyo snorted as he prepared a cup of coffee for himself.
“You know how Lady Whistledown is. So, stop believing her stories for a moment. It’s quite exaggerated sometimes. Besides, I am not going out with that fool! Hell freezes over that happens!” She exclaimed indignantly.
A chance encounter between the Viscount and the Princess which caused a rumor mill circulating in their town.
(A/N: This was supposed to be a sequel from that Doramitsu regency fic I’ve written a long time ago. But plot bunnies came out of me and decided that “oh hey wait a second. Why don’t we make a multichaptered crossover regency period fic series between Tokyo Revengers and Blue Lock in the world Bridgerton?” And here you go. This is the second part of this series with Maisenju as the main pairing. Takes place after the events of the first series of this fic, “sweet liaisons.” I don’t own anything from this franchise. Respective ownership belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura for this wonderful manga and Julia Quinn for this romantic book and series.)
“Senju! Are you done yet? You’re going to be late for the special occasion arranged by the Queen herself. It’s not a good image for a lady to be tardy.” Her older brother, Takeomi,   admonished her from downstairs while Senju struggled adjusting the straps of her corset inside her room.
“Give me a few minutes! This dress is bollocks! Why do I even have to wear this ridiculous thing in the first place?!” Senju exclaimed indignantly as she finally laced the straps successfully around her torso but not before holding her damn breath for a few minutes.
Jesus Christ.
Why do women like her must suffer from these societal expectations in the first place?
“It’s not that hard to put on the corset if you listen carefully to what the teacher has been teaching to you before!” Takeomi replied in exasperation. “Also, Haru get the carriage ready so that we won’t be late this evening!” He added.
“I’m on it!” Haruchiyo’s voice rang from the background.
Senju tuned them out and focused on putting the gown next to her body.
“If you’re not down here yet within a minute, I’ll go up there to see what’s the problem!” Takeomi’s annoying voice rang out again.
“Hold your horses! I’m done already!” Senju yelled back in exasperation.
With a one, last inspection on her frame and face in the mirror, she quickly went out and closed the door behind her and walked downstairs.
“Finally!” Takeomi exclaimed before he inspected her critically from head to toe.
“Not bad. Although next time try it with your hair down in curls. That seemed to be the thing these days.” He commented.
Senju rolled her eyes. “Oh hush. I tried my best in making a French braid for this occasion. The least you can do is take notice of them naturally.” She replied in a grumpy voice as she walked diligently inside the carriage.
They finally reached the palace wherein several guests and royal families were already present and going inside.
Senju grew nervous.
Even if she was naturally born confident and used to be under the scrutiny of other people, this was still different because she was facing the Queen at this event.
Her Majesty will choose tonight who will be crowned as the Diamond girl this year.
Senju had no patience for events like this. She’d rather go to the forest and hunt some wild boars or practice fencing while she’s at it.
But alas, if there were advantages in being born in an upper-class, royal family there were disadvantages as well.
Especially if she’s the only female sibling of the Akashi family and a princess, nonetheless.
The responsibility fell on her to carry their name in the social class and mingle herself with the ladies in the same social stratum and earn herself a status befitting of a princess and marry off an earl or duke for that matter.
Just the mere thought of those weighted responsibilities solely put upon her made her want to throw a fit and leave this place. But she kept her composure and calm.
‘This is just for tonight. Tomorrow you can do whatever you like.’ She chanted at herself as she took a deep breath and got ready.
“Okay remember what we’ve taught and practice beforehand.” Takeomi reminded her when he helped her in getting out of the carriage.
“Yes, my dear brother. You have reminded me of these several times already that I’ve lost count.” She deadpanned.
“This is for your own good and so that you won’t be making any mistakes.” The muffled voice of her other sibling, Haruchiyo said from behind her.
“Oh please. You’re the last person I should hear of this from you.” Senju groused.
“Stop with these childish acts you two.” Takeomi admonished them and Senju kept her mouth shut but not without a small pout gracing her features.
Nevertheless, upon arriving inside the palace, she quickly schooled her features into a pleasant smile and moved with a ladylike grace even though she felt her muscles stiffened at the strict movements of her body.
“Oh my. Princess Senju fancy seeing you here. You look lovely as always.” The light and feminine voice of Hina caught her attention and she beamed at her.
“You look breathtakingly beautiful as well, Lady Hina.” Senju complimented her in a sincere manner. It’s true that Hina was one of the loveliest ladies in their town. And one of the most graceful and dignified as well.
With her alabaster skin, slender frame, beautiful ginger locks and a beatific smile, who wouldn’t fall for her beauty and charms? It’s probably a normal day for her tending to her suitors who visited her abode every day.
Moreover, she wouldn’t be surprised if she earned the Diamond girl status from Her Majesty tonight.
“Oh, shush you... You still got a silver tongue beneath your mischievous nature.” Hina chuckled softly under her breath.
As she was about to respond, another familiar voice caught her attention and turned around to see the smiling face of Emma waving simply and approaching them.
“Princess Senju. Lady Hina. What a pleasant night it is to see you both here.”
“Same here Lady Emma. You’re looking lovely as always.” Senju replied smilingly. Unlike her brother, Mikey, Emma is a pleasant woman to be around and not infuriating. Senju wondered how she could tolerate her brother's impertinence daily.
“Why thank you. I do hope that my brother hasn’t been a nuisance to you lately.” Emma replied jokingly.
“Tell me about it. There hasn’t been a day when he wasn’t bothering me every time when we crossed paths around the city.” Senju replied with a small pout on her face as she took some glass of punch from the waiter who was circling around and giving them.
Emma chuckled softly under her breath. “Forgive my brother. It seems that he has a habit being like that with you.”
“Well, I would appreciate it if you can inform him that he needn’t to do that everyday.” Senju replied as she took a sip from the glass of punch.
Her eyes darted around when she heard some announcement in the middle of the stage.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. It’s our pleasure to have you here on this occasion for the annual event of Her Majesty choosing our precious Diamond for this year. As you may know we have gathered some reputable candidates to be crowned for tonight.” A male announcer said and the Queen finally appeared and was sitting down on her throne.
“Oh! It’s finally starting.” Senju uttered to herself and hastily put the glass of punch from the side of the table to make her way towards the direction wherein several female candidates were lined up from the corner.
The next few moments passed in a blur with the ladies performing one by one in front of the Queen with their practiced grace and dignity in front of her.
Senju watched in awe as the ladies before her performed a graceful dance and curtsied in front of the Queen. Hina and Emma’s performance were outstanding in her eyes and they moved as if it they were born for the role itself.
Her heart pounded and her anxiety spiked as her part will be coming soon.
She finally took a deep breath when it was her turn and tried to calm down her frayed nerves.
‘You got this Senju! Your brothers are watching so you need to get it together!’ Her mind tried to cheer for her.
As soon as it was her turn, her mind and body focus on the present situation beforehand and her movements, remembering on what was taught to her by her governess. Her movements were fluid and clear as she danced elegantly to the tune of a minuet which was a stately ballroom performed under the courts.
The audience watched her in rapt attention and captivation as she moved in a slow yet elegant manner against her assigned partner.
It was already nearing perfect when she accidentally stepped on her gown and stumbled down on the ground.
‘Oh bollocks! Why did it have to be now!’ Senju’s mind raced at her mistake before she quickly stood up as if nothing happened and resumed dancing the few remaining steps and tune of the piece.
She quickly bowed when she was finished and went to the side.
“You were great out there.” Emma whispered sincerely beside her.
“I’m glad that you think so even if I may have ruined it in the end.” Senju whispered back with a wry smile on her.
“Oh hush. Everyone makes a mistake. At the very least you’re still graceful at the end.”
Senju was about to reply when the announcer’s voice chimed in at the stage once again.
“Tonight we’ve seen these wonderful ladies with their immense talents of course. But only one can prevail. And for tonight’s Diamond coronation, Her Majesty is bestowing the crown to Lady Emma Sano of the Sano family.”
Emma’s eyes grew wide for a moment before a surprise yet victorious smile broke out from her lips.
Senju quickly hugged her before she let go. “Congratulations Lady Emma! You certainly deserved it. Now go get your crown up there.”
Emma hugged her back before she pulled away. “Thank you, Princess Senju.” She murmured before she made her way up the stage and accepted the crown bestowed by the Queen on her head.
Senju gave a round of applause amongst the crowd. There was no ill-feeling of envy or regret in her bones as she knew that there were other outstanding and well deserving ladies who much deserved it rather than her.
Nevertheless, there might be a lecture waiting for her back in the household from her older brother again of not trying her best.
Oh well.
Best of luck next time.
“Ah, finally. Some peace and quiet.” Senju sighed in contentment as she sat on the grassy field filled with small flowers. She took a quick detour and a needed break from the bustling crowd inside the palace.
Her eyes gazed upwards to the sky which was filled with countless stars that made up for the brilliant darkness tonight.
“I’m getting sleepy. Hopefully, the occasion will be over soon.” Senju mumbled to herself.
“It’s a good thing that the household princess doesn’t trip or bumped into someone with that tall heel of yours.” The familiar, idle voice sang from the background which made Senju ground her teeth and faced him with an exasperated smile on her face.
“If it isn’t the infamous viscount or should I say the manchild of the Sano household.” She quipped back, looking at him from head to toe with an unimpressed look on her face.
Although she inwardly admitted that Mikey looked dashing in a velvet crimson robe which had a circular cut, a pair of shiny, coal hued boots and a nice woolen white cloth inside his robes which leant him a regal, sophisticated aura despite his miniature height and youthful, vibrant face. Nevertheless, she wouldn’t admit that outwardly to him. His ego was huge enough like an inflated balloon and she didn’t want him to get the idea that she was disgustingly smitten towards him like of those other women who was besotted and would probably throw themselves at his feet if given a chance.
Senju was better than that and had more acquired tastes thank you very much.
“And you’re the infamous princess who moves like a man and curses like a sailor.” Mikey replied playfully.
“Have you ever heard of the word assertive and adventurous? I guess not when you’re used to women who threw themselves at you.” Senju snorted. “And what brings you here by the way?”
“Me? I’m just the dignified chaperone of my sister tonight considering that Ken has already resume his duties as a duke and travelled to another land away from here. And maybe I’m the good luck charm seeing that she won tonight!” Mikey replied with an impish grin on his face.
“Oh please. Don’t think highly of yourself. Lady Emma won because of her grace and efforts and not because of you or someone else.” She scoffed lightly.
“What can I say? Being successful and victorious runs in our blood.”
“God, I’m just speechless at your conceited nature.”
It made Mikey laugh in amusement while Senju rolled her eyes and looked away.
After a while, Mikey refrained from laughing until it was quiet between the two of them but only for a moment.
“Even if you didn’t get the coveted Diamond status from the royal family tonight, you’re still great on your own.” He said quietly.
His words made Senju turn around to face him before looking away, feeling the tips of her ears growing hot.
She needed to leave this place and away from this viscount who’s making her feel strange inside.
Senju tried to get up, but it proved to be a struggle due to the weight of her gown.
Her actions were noticed by Mikey who looked at her curiously.
“Where are you going?”
“Away from you.” She retorted. “It’s a lovely and peaceful night here before your presence has ruined it.” She added with a scoff before she tried to stand up again, but it was futile.
“Need some help?” He asked with a hint of amusement.
Senju glared at him before a deep sigh left her lips.
“Yes please.” She muttered as she accepted his offered hand and tried to stand up again but not before she lost her balance and toppled down.
Together they tumbled down on the grassy field with Senju laying on top of him while Mikey laid beneath her.
They looked at each other with wide eyes before Senju struggled to pull herself away from him, her cheeks burning in mortification.
And that’s how one of the maids from the palace found them in the garden under a compromising position.
‘Couldn’t this night get any better?’ She thought sardonically to herself.
The next day at the Akashi household...
“A new romance has bloomed in one enchanting night? Princess Senju and Viscount Mikey share a special night together under the radiant garden of the Palace.” Takeomi read loudly at the first page of broadside that morning.
Senju could only heaved a deep breath before sipping the cup of Earl Grey slowly to her lips.
“You’ve been seeing Viscount Mikey without any chaperone? Lady Whistledown is having a field day with your scandals.” Haruchiyo snorted as he prepared a cup of coffee for himself.
“You know how Lady Whistledown is. So stop believing her stories for a moment. It’s quite exaggerated sometimes. Besides, I am not going out with that fool! Hell freezes over that happens!” She exclaimed indignantly.
“Language.” Takeomi warned her.
“But it was an accident! I just stumbled upon him and—.” Senju stopped midway before getting up. “It’s no use. Just don’t pay attention to those bollocks.” She grumbled as she began walking out of the house.
“Where are you going young lady?” Takeomi asked.
“Just at the market. I may need to buy something to ease my growing vexation towards this nonsense. Don’t worry I’ll be back in a moment.” Senju didn’t wait for Takeomi’s response and took her hat, putting it on and leaving the house.
“Just let her go for now big brother. Senju is growing up and she’ll grow out of that phase.” Haru said casually.
“I can’t believe I’m dealing with you two.” Takeomi replied in resignation before shaking his head and focusing back on reading the next page of his broadside.
“Oh no I’m late! I need to deliver these parcels soon to Mrs. Springfield and—.” Takemichi’s hasty murmurs to himself and running across the street were cut off when he suddenly bumped into someone, resulting in his parcels falling to the ground and him stumbling on his feet.
“Can’t you see where you’re going you fool?” An exasperated voice caught his attention, and he was met by a young man who was dressed majestically and possessed an aura that screamed of royalty and wealth.
‘Is he a member of the royal family? If he is, then I should’ve known him! But it’s the first time I’ve seen his face around here.’ Takemichi’s thoughts raced inside his head as he tried to get up and bowed respectfully at him.
“My deepest apologies Sir! It’s not my intention to ruin your day in this city. I am just in a hurry to deliver these important parcels!” There was a tinge of regret and apology in his tone, but he still didn’t raise his head for fear of disrespecting him again.
“Do you know my name boy?” The man asked haughtily.
“N-no...” Takemichi stammered. Was he supposed to know him?
The man looked at him with a cruel amusement on his eyes and a complacent smile on his lips.
“Raise your head boy.” He ordered.
Takemichi quickly complied and stared into his eyes which were startingly deep blue. He possessed an aristocratic nose and a small yet perfectly shaped pair of lips. He tried not to be distracted by the arresting features of the man and tried to focus on the present situation at hand.
“I am an Earl. An Earl you foolishly bumped into. And for me to be able to forgive you, kneel before me and kiss my shoes.” The man remarked casually as he inspected his nails in a disinterested manner.
“P-pardon sir...?” Takemichi paled as he blinked at him owlishly.
“You heard me, right? Or your line of hearing has a defect too and I must need to repeat myself?” The man replied sardonically.
Before Takemichi could reply, a familiar, casual yet firm voice rang behind him which made him turn around and met the displeased expression of Chifuyu in front of him.
“Takemichi? Is this fellow bothering you?”
“Prince Chifuyu!” Takemichi gave a quick, respectful bow before standing up straight. “This is nothing that you should be worried about—.”
“Oh? Who is this interesting lad beside you hmm? It seems that she’s gotten up at the wrong side of the bed.” Kaiser cut him off silkily and asked in his usual airy voice.
“It’s Prince Chifuyu to you.” The blond glared at him and for his impertinent words.
“Oh, my bad. My name is Earl Michael Kaiser. But you can address me as Michael if you want.” Kaiser remarked with a playful wink thrown over his direction.
“I believed it is not appropriate to address you so casually when were not even acquiantances.” Chifuyu huffed. “Also, I would appreciate it if you stop harassing my friend and let him do whatever errands he needs to do today.” He added stonily.
Kaiser raised his hands placatingly. “I seek no trouble Prince Chifuyu. In fact, I’m getting acquianted with the citizens here seeing that I may stay here for awhile.”
Chifuyu was about to retort when the rushing footsteps from the background caught his attention and saw a young man with dark blue hair and dressed in a formal whiteshirt and light brown pants.
“My Lord! Where have you been? Your Grace has been looking for you!” He exclaimed when his eyes landed on the familiar figure of the royal prince which made him bow immediately.
“Good day Prince Chifuyu! Please forgive me for not being able to greet you first when I came here.” He said in an apologetic voice.
“Calm down Yoichi. I’m sure that my absence for a few minutes will not merit any hindrance or trouble to the events at all.” Kaiser remarked idly.
“Good day to you too Sir Yoichi. Are you with the Earl Kaiser?” He asked.
“Yes. I’m one of his advisors. And we’re here because we’ve been invited by the Queen for an event in this place.” Isagi replied when his eyes landed on the familiar figure of Takemichi whose eyes lit up in recognition but both kept their silence for the meantime.
“I see. It seems that the Earl has taking into a liking of this place seeing that he was already going for a stroll around the streets.” Chifuyu remarked.
“Indeed Prince Chifuyu. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we must be going on our way now.” Isagi replied in an apologetic voice.
“Of course. Don’t let us hold you both back.” Chifuyu replied in a congenial voice before he narrowed his gaze at Kaiser to which the other male smirked at him.
“We’ll be on our way then.” Isagi gave a quick respectful bow and shot a meaningful glance at Takemichi before he pulled the Earl away going back to their carriage and left them behind.
“That Earl is something else entirely.” Chifuyu said with a frown on his face. “He didn’t hurt you or anything Takemichi?”
Takemichi shook his head. “Not really. ‘Sides it’s quite my fault for bumping into him earlier. But I do appreciate your good timing. Now, I really need to go and deliver these items to Mrs. Springfield. See you later!” He quickly bid goodbye and ran off to the other side of the street.
Chifuyu watched him go, shaking his head a little before heading back to his own carriage and going back to the castle.
(A/N: Well, that’s wrap for the first chapter. The next and last chapter may take a while to be uploaded as I’m on a hectic schedule now with work. Hopefully, you’ll be patient enough to wait as it is. Reviews are amusing so let me hear them from you.)
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mama-qwerty · 1 year
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Meeting Shadow
So this is kinda/sorta the start of my Shadow story. I was playing around with how Maria would first meet Shadow, and this is what came out.
Remember, in my headcanon, Maria is a private brought in by Gerald to act as Shadow's "handler" since he's still hanging on by a thread at this stage. In reality, the Prof wants the boy to have an actual human caretaker, not just live his life in a tube. (Calling her Shadow's handler satisfies the military's question as to why she's there.) He hand picked her--he knows Maria is his granddaughter, but she doesn't.
~~~~~
The door opened to what looked like an emergency room. Medical monitors flashed vital signs, and machines beeped and blinked all around what looked like a preemie incubator in the center. Wires and cables stretched from the various monitors and computers to the inside of that incubator. Judging from the erratic beeps from the heart monitor, whatever was in there wasn’t doing well.
The young private gave the room a questioning look, before turning that look to General Tower behind her.
“Sir? I don’t understand. What is this assignment, exactly?”
The man lifted his lip in a scowl. Whatever it was, the general had a distaste for it. “The good doctor has spent a lot of taxpayer money to create the . . . thing inside that box. Your assignment, Private, is to do what you can to keep it alive.”
Her eyes widened. “Sir, I have no experience with babies. I’ve only babysat three times in my life, and that was for my ten-year-old neighbor.”
General Tower lifted his lip, this time in a sneery type of smile. “Then I wish you luck,” he said, before pulling the door closed behind him.
She stared at the door for a few seconds longer, before slowly turning toward the incubator. The term the general had used when referring to the occupant of that bit of equipment rang in her ears. Thing. He called it a thing. What exactly was she supposed to be caring for?
The imposing pile of paperwork she’d had to sign before coming to this hidden facility suddenly made sense. With words like ‘highly classified’, ‘non-disclosure’, and ‘under penalty of imprisonment or death’ sprinkled throughout it’s massive stack, this wasn’t some run-of-the-mill secret base. This was a super-secret, I’d-tell-you-but-then-I’d-have-to-kill-you secret base, housing what was slowly dawning on her must have been some pretty damn freaky secrets.
The question was, why was she chosen to join this selective club? She was just a private, fresh out of boot camp. Surely there were more experienced people? Ones better suited for such a task?
Every creature feature horror movie she’d ever seen suddenly flashed through her brain. Secret facilities like this usually housed a captured alien or genetically altered experiment. The scientists or big military brass would want to know how that creature functioned, so they’d send a poor, unsuspecting red shirt in to be the guinea pig. Usually a low-ranking private, who gets eaten or torn to shreds in the first few minutes of the film.
She swallowed hard. Right now her love of alien/creature feature horror movies didn’t seem so harmless.
Okay. Focus. There was no cage, and no two-way mirror for the scientists to study her impending messy death through. There was a little incubator and lots of monitoring equipment. Whatever was in here, it was obviously small.
Which brought to mind every movie she’d seen in which a tiny terrible creature either forced its way into the victim’s ear, nose, or mouth. Or other orifices.
She closed her eyes tightly. Creature features would be off the movie list for a while.
One of the monitors gave a rapid beep for a few seconds, before slowing down to the previous tempo. This was enough to pull her out of her thoughts, and she slowly made her way to the little plastic box with round holes on one side. Wires snaked inside, attached to . . . well, something.
She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t a small black and red furry ball about the size of an orange.
“What the . . .” she breathed, brows furrowed. “Did . . . did they make a Tribble?”
The wires leading to the incubator seemed to go inside that little furry ball which confused her for a second, until the thing trembled slightly before uncurling and rolling onto its belly. Now she gaped at it, her jaw hanging slack.
It wasn’t a ball. It was a . . . well, she wasn’t entirely sure. An animal of some sort. But . . . not.
It had six spikes on the back of its head, tiny triangular ears, and a peach colored muzzle with a pointy black nose. Its little hands—and that’s what they were, not paws—were quite human, in that they had four fingers and a distinct thumb. Tiny claws tipped those digits, and it curled them into a teeny fist as she watched.
Her previous fears and movie-inspired paranoia forgotten, she moved closer to hunker down and peer in through the access holes in the side of the box. “What are you?” Its closer ear twitched at the sound of her voice, and one eye opened slightly to reveal a red iris. It seemed to see her, as it stared for a few seconds before closing its eye and heaving a small sigh.
She stood, flicking her head to bring her long blonde braid in front of her shoulder to fiddle with the end. A nervous habit she’d developed since letting it grow. “Holy crap,” she muttered, moving around the room. She took care to avoid the wires, and kept shooting little glances toward the incubator. “This is nuts. What am I supposed to do with that? I don’t even know what it is. How am I supposed to take care of something I have no clue about?”
As if the universe deemed it necessary to test her, another monitor gave a long tone. She spun, her eyes floating over all the screens to try and determine which one was crying out. She finally narrowed it down to the one devoted to the creature’s breathing.
And right now, it wasn’t.
“Crap,” she whispered, hurrying over to the incubator. The little thing still lay on its belly, eyes closed and back horrifyingly still. “Oh, no. Nonononono.” She tapped on the plastic lid, directly over the creature. “Hey.” Tap tap. “C’mon, take a breath.” Tap tap tap.
Nothing. As if politely asking the little thing to breathe would have worked anyway.
She moved back to where she had looked in at it a minute before. “Hey,” she called, hoping to see the little ear twitch. It didn’t. “You gotta breathe, little guy.” She wasn’t sure why she called it that, it just seemed to fit. Still no response.
Feeling a bit freaked out, she did the only thing one does when faced with an unknown thing in an unknown situation—she reached in and touched it.
“C’mon, little guy,” she said, and stroked its tiny muzzle with her finger. “C’mon. Breathe for me. Please.”
She continued stroking the soft muzzle, and finally, after an eternity of seconds, it gasped in a breath. The eye opened again, and it looked at her, the closer ear turning her way. She smiled, relieved.
“There you go. Good job. Just keep doing that, okay? In and out.”
It watched her for a few more seconds, and the little fist relaxed. A tiny finger twitched. The monitor stopped its continuous tone and returned to a more even beep. She continued stroking the little muzzle with her finger.
Suddenly the door burst open, and an older man in a lab coat hurried in. She pulled her hand from the incubator, and stood quickly. Out of breath, the man simply looked between her and the little plastic box.
“The alarm went off in my lab,” he said, straightening his glasses as he went to peer in at the little creature. “What happened?”
“It stopped breathing,” she said, standing back to let him examine the various readouts on the machines. “But I . . . it started again.”
He looked up at her over his glasses. “What did you do?”
Her face burned as a blush flared. “I . . . uh . . . touched it.” God, that sounded so stupid.
“Touched him?”
She nodded, the blush spreading down her neck. “I kinda stroked its cheek with my finger.”
“And that’s all it took?”
She shrugged. It was entirely possible it would have started breathing again without her being there. But he asked.
He furrowed his brow for a few seconds, before a smile curled the ends of his lips. They disappeared beneath his bushy mustache. “Well done, my dear, well done!”
“Thanks,” she muttered, and honestly wanted nothing more than to run screaming into the night. This entire scene was surreal and insane.
“This little one has been very, hm, shall we say, delicate. I do believe he’s got a stubborn streak a mile wide as well!” The doctor was making notes on a clipboard she hadn’t noticed from the top of one of the machines. “But he’s the best specimen we’ve ever had. At least the one who survived the longest. I believe if we can get him past this infant stage, we may actually have a chance at full maturation!”
She fiddled with her braid. She understood everything he said, but none of it made any sense.
He turned to her, and must have read the look on her face. He smiled, hugging the clipboard to his chest. “Apologies, my dear. All this must seem quite strange to you. I fear the general has thrown you into the deep end without so much as a pool floaty.” She smiled at that and he continued. “Even though you no doubt signed a stack of paperwork the size of Alaska, I’m afraid I cannot go into much detail regarding what we’re doing here. But suffice it to say, if we can keep this little guy with us, it could be a great benefit to the medical world.”
“Looking for that elusive cure for cancer, huh?”
His smile faltered a tad. “The cure for everything,” he said, his voice soft. “This little guy is the ultimate lifeform. We just need to keep him alive until his system normalizes.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Ultimate lifeform? Isn’t that a lot of pressure to put on a . . .”
“I can’t divulge how he came to be, but I can say that a lot of his DNA matches the common Earth hedgehog.”
“’Earth’ hedgehog?”
He smiled again, this time guiltily. “Secrets.” He pulled an imaginary zipper across his lips.
She nodded. At least she had a gender and species. “Does he have a name?”
“We’ve been calling him ‘Project Shadow’.”
She glanced down at the little black and red baby. Shadow seemed a good name. “Shadow.”
“Shadow.” The man smiled, then his eyebrows shot up. “Oh, I just realized you haven’t the first clue who I am!” She shook her head. He smiled, holding his hand out. “Professor Gerald Robotnik. I’m the lead scientist here.”
“Private Maria Robinson,” she said, taking his hand. His eyebrow twitched slightly, and she raised her own in a question. “Something wrong?”
The man pulled his hand back, uttering an embarrassed chuckle. “No, no. You’ll have to pardon me. You . . .” He cast her a sideways glance. “You just remind me of someone.”
~~~
Like this? Check out my other snippets. Reblogs are appreciated!
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theflagscene · 7 months
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While I am pretty disappointed in the first bit of the 2024 line-up GMMtv has to offer, and I am, gimmie FirstKhao dammit! There are a some series that seem interesting enough to catch my attention, so far I’m liking the look of -
The Trainee - OffGun will always get me to watch, even if it’s trash, I will watch it for them.
Wandee Goodday - Looks like an adult comedic romp about a doctor and a boxer trying to live their best domestic boyfriend life while juggling work, school and relationships. It’s a mess all over and is also the trial of a possible new GMMtv pairing Great Sapol and Inn Sarin??
Kidnap - Is it BL? Is it bromance? I think only time will tell, GMMtv is probably waiting to see what people want based on the concept trailer. I think what people are gonna want is Ohm the boy kisser to return to their screens - without Nanon - so yeah while I think it’s leaning into BL territory, even if it’s bromance it seems really soft considering it’s plot and I’ll most likely watch it.
Pluto - Is the plot original? No, not really. It looks pretty run of the mill, it won’t blow your mind or change the world. But it’s a god damned GL and it deserves love and attention, the only way more GLs will ever get made is for us to show the studios that yes, we want more range in queer content. BLs isn’t about some gay dude fetish, it’s about seeing queer characters on television, all queer characters! Also it’s about time Film got to kiss a girl, c’mon!
We Are - It’s got a line up of well loved BL couples, some heavy hitters (PondPhuwin), some outta left field favourites (WinnySatang) and some desperately begged for (AouBoom). Plus the classic uni engineer friendship group vs the non engineer friendship group turning into one big gay friendship group trope that we’ve all come to love and expect, hopefully pink milk makes a cameo appearance at some point.
My Love Mix-Up! - GeminiFourth helmed version of a fantastically adorable Japanese manga? Yes, I’m in, one hundred percent.
On Sale - Ghosts, physical comedy and TayNew’s classic homoeroticism… what more could you want? This will most likely be a binge watch, I’ll wait until it’s finished airing and then just watch it in one or two sittings.
And honourable mention goes to My Golden Blood, which will no doubt be a hate watch for me. I wanted more supernatural based BLs, but not like this, never like this lmao. Although I am glad GMMtv didn’t decide to try and staple Gawin’s ass to the sinking ship that is Krusty.
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repentarium · 1 year
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the truth is i've been dreaming of this tired, tranquil place tag 11/??
ao3
'I'm not gonna be home for dinner tonight man, I've got a date! Going to a show up in Indy. Don't wait up!'
Steve's brain does a record scratch, but Eddie's just grabbing a piece of toast off of his plate and winking and raising his eyebrows lecherously on his way out the door. 
It's normal and cool to have a date. Totally run-of-the-mill behavior for a young adult in America, Just because Steve hasn't been on one in a while, has kind of given up on trying actually, even threw away that Cinnamon Gum Girl’s number, doesn't mean everyone has to. He knows this. But. 
He'd kind of been planning on trying out this chicken cordon bleu thing tonight, and there was a special showing of Spaceballs on that he kind of thought would be Eddie's speed. Not that he’d told Eddie that or anything, it's not like he's ditching him. Steve supposes this whole stupid dinner thing was an attempt at smoothing whatever over, maybe talk to Eddie about it, see what he’d done to upset him so he can absolutely avoid doing it for the rest of his life.
He's out of it all day at work. He knocks into that damned broken shelf hard enough to spill plastic VHS boxes onto the floor more than once, and he thinks he rang out Tammy Connors under Tammy Hudson's new husband's account, but he was too embarrassed to stop her on the way out to ask. 
He walks home in the chilling air, and he thinks about maybe having a drink when he gets there. He could order a pizza or something instead of the chicken, maybe, set up the Nintendo the kids argue over and try to get better at that fighting game so he can kick Dustin's precocious little butt at it next time he's here. 
But when he gets back, nose cold from the suddenly autumnal air, he's too tired to make a drink or a phone call to the pizza place, too tired to pull the Nintendo out, so he slumps into the couch and suffers for a while first. 
He doesn't know exactly what's going on. Sure he's a little jealous of Eddie, going out and maybe getting lucky, maybe warm hands and soft faces, which, Steve will be the first to admit, he misses.
But it's not like he doesn't deserve it. He's a great guy, and he's kind. He's not hard on the eyes or anything, and even though his taste in music is a little aggressive and he can be loud and weird, he's fun to be around. Even when he’s acting a little jumpy and avoiding talking about the - ‘fight’ isn’t exactly the right word, but the weird energy. 
And now Eddie was going up to Indy with some random guy who he definitely (probably) hadn't mentioned before instead. Steve doesn’t even know his name, or what show they’re going to. Anything could happen.
He feels warm. Maybe the migraines were a sign, and he's getting the flu. 
Steve sighs and rubs at his eyes until he sees light playing across the lids the way it does across the surface of a pool. He pulls himself up to make the pizza call, and doesn't realize until after he's placed the order that he got the usual two pies on auto pilot. He's sure Eddie can have some hungover tomorrow or something. 
He grabs the same bottle of the bottom shelf vodka Eddie had sipped from before, now significantly diminished but tucked back where it belongs. He pulls a shot or so straight from the neck, warm like Eddie had, then grabs a cold beer to drink as he grumbles his way through the shortest and hottest shower he thinks he's ever taken. The water temperature and pressure are so temperamental; he should really try to figure out how to fix it. If it can be fixed. He doesn't even know where to start, but maybe Hopper would. Or Wayne, he knows this kind of stuff. 
By the time he's pulling on the most clean and comfortable things he can find, some old gym shorts and a worn-soft shirt, he's feeling just a little buzzy, which inspires him to get another beer while he waits for the pizza. He throws on some record or other, whatever he grabs first, just to fill the silence, and he doesn't think about how routine that used to be, how easy it would be to fall back into the empty feeling and all the old coping mechanisms he had developed to try and combat it. 
He knows he's being ridiculous. Eddie is on a date, and Steve as a grown up should be able to be alone for a single damn night. More than that, he should be happy that one of his best friends, a member of his family, was out having a good time.
As he sits on a stool at the little bar, he stares through to the refrigerator, all the photos and drawings and little memories stuck to it. He's thinking a little about how even though being here in the warmth of his own place has gone a long way to patching over some massive holes in his chest, he's still feeling a little Incomplete. A little Broken.
There’s a ring at the bell downstairs before he spirals too badly, and after he's retrieved the pizza and eaten a slice of his own (pepperoni and peppers) and Eddie's (ham and pineapple) for good measure, he's feeling a little better. 
He's still going through the motions when he puts the record that's been spinning silently away, and when he throws himself onto the couch and flips on the TV he flips it quickly past Spaceballs onto some football game or other and is shortly dozing. 
Steve has always been pretty quick to fall asleep, but since all of the Horrors had started he’s also been quick to startle awake. His head snaps up on the couch where it had fallen to rest on the arm, and he squints and listens to the commotion outside that woke him. A car door slamming, loud yelling and a 'well fuck you too pal!'. A car peels out and blares on the horn as it goes, the downstairs door slams, and then there are keys at the front door and grumbling swears as it pushes open past the sticking point. 
Steve feels disoriented the way you always do when you wake up from a nap, and the little bit of leftover alcohol in his system isn't helping. He shoots up to sitting and picks up the remote like he's been channel surfing even though there's an infomercial for a set of encyclopedias on and he's clearly sleep-creased and his eyes are unfocused and his hair is all rumpled from falling asleep on the couch when it was wet. 
Eddie flicks on the hall light, sees Steve blinking up at him, and says 'oh shit man sorry' and turns it off again. 
'It's alright, Eds. Is everything okay?' Steve's voice scratches out of his throat. 
'Yeah.' he sighs. 'Fuckin fantastic.' He lingers at the door for a minute while Steve flips through a couple of channels, not sure what the move is because Eddie is clearly a little upset and a little drunk. He can hear him drumming his fingers against something. 
'There's pizza!' Steve remembers and calls, finally looking at him again. He's just standing in the entryway, hasn't even kicked his boots off. 
His hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, but it's come loose a little in a way that frames his face; his bangs have grown out without Steve noticing, and now they're long enough to curl around his jaw in a way that Steve would find really flattering on a girl. 
He's wearing a shirt Steve doesn't think he's ever seen, just a plain white one that is tight and thin enough that he thinks he can see the lines of tattoos underneath, and a pair of black jeans that are so ripped and shredded they can barely be called pants. He thinks his legs must have gotten cold out there. He's not even wearing a jacket. Steve frowns at his back as he finally kicks his boots off, a little unsteady.
Eddie's moving finally, walks into the kitchen and pulls open a cabinet, comes back around with a glass of water and a plate stacked with pizza, and he sits on the couch with Steve, propping one of his feet on the table and throwing his head back dramatically without even taking a bite first. 
Steve is watching the way his throat moves as he swallows and he feels a little like he really is losing it, because again he thinks that Eddie is beautiful in the kind of way he thought Nancy was beautiful back in the day, like his hair looks soft and the skin of his throat looks-
Steve's tired, is all, and a little drunk, and it's been a while, and Eddie is attractive, as much as he gives him shit, and he is one of his best friends. He's just getting his wires a little crossed. 
Eddie straightens up again, sits forward, and Steve shakes his staring eyes away, but not before Eddie notices. 
'What?' he asks, finally tearing into a slice of the pizza balancing on his lap. He doesn't seem like he's angry at Steve but there is something in his tone that makes Steve blush and feel like he fucked up somehow.
'Is everything okay?'
'Yes, Steve, everything is okay. Are you really watching QVC at like 2am on a Thursday?'
'No. I fell asleep.'
'I told you you didn't have to wait up.'
'No, I. I wasn't.' Steve says it too quickly, he thinks, but he's just trying to explain. 'I just fell asleep after dinner. It was a long day.'
Eddie is watching him as he chews. 
'Not all of us can be as good at dates as you, Stevie.' He grumbles around a mouthful. 
'What?' A chuckle bubbles up and out of his mouth before he can stop it, and Eddie of course catches it and seems to glare a little harder over his pizza crust. 'Eddie, I haven't even been on a date since like… well I don't know, maybe Vecna?' He tenses up at the name, and Steve mentally smacks his head against a wall. 'Shit, sorry…'
Eddie is quiet and chews on his pizza for a while before he cuts Steve some slack. 'This guy tonight, Parker. He was just an asshole.'
Steve gets furious, all at once, and says 'What did he do?'
Eddie was watching him, but he sits his pizza on the table and curls into his seat a little, avoiding his eyes suddenly. 'Nothing, not really. Could have been worse. He didn't leave me in Indy alone or anything, and he didn't hurt me, but he was… a real asshole.'
Steve can't really find a word to speak, but he thinks maybe he can figure out who this asshole is later. Just like, process of elimination, you know? Maybe Dustin could help. He could just have a word with him.
'He was just being a guy, you know, thought he did the right things and it'd make me sleep with him, but he was… a shithead, all night. Like he was making fun of this one guy at the show, and he was really aggressive when he was kissing me, and he made fun of my scars and he called me the town freak and it's just.' He takes a long and shuddery breath. 'It's like it was hard enough trying to be normal before all of this-' he gestures at his own body, his scars. '-and that shit certainly isn't helping.' It's like he had to get it all out together, like he was pressurized and once he started he couldn't stop talking. 
'You're not a freak, Eds.'
'That's not what you said in high school.' He murmurs it around the crust he’s gnawing on, eyes still on Steve in that x-ray vision kinda way.
And Steve knows Eddie is just upset and he's long forgiven him for being the way he was in school, but he also knows that his reign as King Steve was hurtful, and he feels like he deserves to be reminded about it. As penance and so he won't fall back into it somehow, like it’s a shadow tugging along behind him.
Eddie must notice where his thoughts are going, because he sighs and puts his plate on the coffee table and says, 'I'm sorry. You know it's. It's. Just been a long day, man.' 
Eddie's voice cracks, and then he's crying, and Steve doesn't know what to do, and he doesn't know how to fit this Eddie and the Eddie from this morning, winking and talking about getting lucky, into the same box, is furious still that some shitty guy named Parker somehow got him like this. 
It'd be easy if he were a girl, if he were Robin or Nancy or even El or Max. But he doesn't know how to make this better for him and it's killing him. He shuffles a little closer to Eddie anyway, puts his arm around his shoulders, so slowly and telegraphing his every move as he does it like he’s facing a wild animal. He breathes a sigh of relief when Eddie just puts his head on his shoulder and sniffles. 
Steve grabs the throw blanket off the couch with his other hand, tucks it lightly around them as Eddie tucks his face against him and quietly cries, and he presses his cheek against the top of his head. 
He's looking blankly at the TV, still showing something you can buy in only four easy payments. Eddie's arm is cold under his, and he rubs his hand against the skin in an attempt to warm it up. 
'You're freezing, Eds.'
'I left my jacket in his shitty car.' he half-laughs into Steve's chest. 'Can you fucking believe that? There's no way I'm seeing him to get that back. At least it wasn't my leather one.'
Steve's pissed again. He grits his teeth. 'How uh. How was the show? Was it fun at least?'
Eddie scoffs into his shirt. 'I didn't even like the fucking band, I just agreed to go because I thought this jackass was hot.' 
It makes Steve chuckle against his hair. 'I can't judge, I took Mary Winston to go see A Nightmare on Elm Street and had to leave halfway through because I had an anxiety attack at the theater. That was before, uh. Before this last batch of the Horrors, even.'
'Mary Winston?' Eddie pulls back from Steve to look at him with his nose curled in disgust, and Steve can't help but laugh at his expression. 
'Yeah, hilarious.' he rolls his eyes, but Eddie lays his head on Steve's shoulder, less tucked away and more comfortable, and Steve keeps his arm pinned between him and the back of the couch. They watch as the nice people on tv tell them all about this fancy cookware and all the things you can make on it.
They wake up together on the couch in the early hours of the morning, groggy and drooly and tangled up together, and as they pull apart and retreat to their own beds for a couple more hours of sleep, Steve thinks maybe things are okay after all.
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talentforlying · 8 months
Note
👫 imlateimlateimlatehi
emmanuel:
they feel like a pair that does golden girls marathons. just seems right to me.
i like to think that on the days that constantine shows up to the flat looking restless, em subtly puts him to work doing small tasks around the house: repotting plants, making the tea, changing out the cat food. mundane, run-of-the-mill human maintenance. it helps constantine work out the jitters and it helps em not have to chase an adrenaline-craving disaster around half of london.
constantine might not be the most astute observer of other people's distress, but eventually he'll figure out that physical touch might do em some good and then it's all downhill from there. pats him on the shoulder, tugs his ear, bumps his elbow, offer of a hand to hold every now and then; anything light and quick he can get away with as a form of casual reassurance.
constantine remembers dying, but he doesn't remember being saved. knowing what em risked to bring him back, it makes him feel ungrateful not to know what it was like, but he can't bring himself to ask, either.
anane:
i like to imagine them both falling asleep at all night diners after chasing something for long enough that it'd be suspicious to go back to antoine's without a solid excuse. i'm not sure if anane sleeps or not, though, so at least constantine sleeps, while they eat all his fries.
listen he knows that they are much stronger than he is and a much better fighter besides, but that will not stop him from mother-henning after a tussle. he's always going to feel a little bit like he dragged them into his world, even when they were already there, and will always try to make sure they're healed good and proper before they head home. em is a good influence on him, but probably not by anane's standards.
the competition over showing off their respective pyrokineses gets absurd. anane is definitely better at it, considering constantine has to do a bunch of shit with spells and sigils just to avoid torching all the hair off his arms, but it's allll about who's got the cooler tricks. constantine doesn't celebrate the fourth of july, but he can and will ruin it for everyone else, and he can and will ask anane to help.
i like to think they're the one he'd badger into helping him put up decorations for various holidays. whether they actually help or just watch him with disdain is up to them, but if they want to dangle plastic eyeballs in every cabinet of em's kitchen for halloween, they should tooootally help.
antoine:
aside from em, antoine's the one who most often sees constantine being an absolute disaster of a person, probably. that man is skewering burnt deviled eggs with a coffee stirrer at seven in the morning, and he does not care who sees him as long as he gets coffee to go with it.
when he first figures out that antoine will just Give Him snacks and coffee, he absolutely tries to push his luck just to see what he can get away with. keeps walking up five minutes after getting a pastry like "hey mate can you spot me a danish". i can't figure out if antoine would humor him or not, but i like the image of constantine unloading pockets full of pastries in em's flat one day and then never doing it again.
i think constantine gets antoine and anane walkie-talkies so they can keep in touch at long range, but whether they actually use them or not is up to them. constantine definitely tries to get him to use ridiculous call signs, though.
if antoine ever lets on that he writes poetry, constantine will not offer to read it, because he does not like poetry in the slightest, but he will show up in support at any potential readings and just. try to quietly sneak out the door before he actually has to listen. like a ghost cheerleader.
gwynn:
legendary bar crawls. legendary. i'd bet she can outdrink him easily, but damned if he doesn't try his best.
they both like to read, but i feel like reading in the same room would result in those teen movie study sessions where there's more throwing pencils at each other's heads and racing paper airplanes than any actual work getting done. one of the others would have to sit with them like they were in detention.
i think part of the reason they don't necessarily get along well is because they see a lot of themselves in each other? they've both had to struggle to survive in less-than-optimal circumstances, they both know what it's like to grow up working class and going hungry, they've both been betrayed by their families. if they ever ended up settling down enough to talk about it, i think they could really find their way to being more than just friendly antagonists. maybe even real friends.
he finds her amulet magic fascinating. constantine's someone for whom magic tends to be a lot more tangible, mostly somatic & verbal in nature with a few physical components / sigils thrown in more for proper procedure than to contribute anything extra, so he definitely admires her craftsmanship and tries to watch her work whenever he can get away with it. it's one of the few times he'll take it easy on messing with her, because he's genuinely curious about her process and knows how dangerous it is to get things wrong in their business.
@handgiven / RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS ( always accepting )
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manapotionstudios · 10 months
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DelaneyPost 01 (ManaPost 06): Fungeon -- Clever Wordplay!
Heyo! Y here for today’s Mana-welcome! Except it’s not the usual ManaPost… This is the first DelaneyPost! Ever! Yippee!!! Strap in for the long haul, this one’s a doozy.
Since you all haven’t seen anything about Delaney since the teaser, it would be nice to learn about the protagonist, yes?
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THE Laney
Introducing Delaney! The protagonist of Delaney. Yup. This stoic, havoc-wreaking, hammer-wielding anarchist leads the venture deep into a cult’s mysterious manor responsible for the assimilation of everyone near and far to their twisted status quo. She’s slinging herself through every pile of flesh and bone, bashing through any wall in order to destroy this cult from the outside in!
Where did she come from?
Delaney actually stems from an interesting interaction with a close friend, Denise Tranglong, who had shared a character concept with us. Naturally, it was a very cool concept, and we immediately inquired for permission to use this character, and since you’re seeing this post now, she had granted said permission. Of course, we’ve taken a few creative liberties, but her core design and personality stays true to the original creator’s intentions.
Where did she go? Originally, we took the initial hiatus from Delaney due to a flood of new ideas and inspiration for Manaport! Since we try to keep a fluid and open mindset when it comes to what we want to work on, we tend to bounce around from time to time. This ensures persistent focus on getting at least something done each week, and it’s the reason why we can get these ManaPosts out every weekend!
Where did she come from, Cotton-Eye Joe?
Delaney’s origins in canon are unknown. She clearly has some hatred towards this cult, but it isn’t clear if this is a personal gripe. She’s not the most talkative, probably focusing on the task at hand. We’re worried to question her anyway — she’s quite heavy-handed when it comes to her trusty hammer.
Incredibly stretched subheadings aside, Gameplay! What’s it gonna be like to play the game?
The Fungeon
Delaney is a spin on the run-of-the-mill dungeon-crawler roguelike formula! That’s just it, you spin!
In order to navigate these endless rooms of clicking bones and armour, spin and fling delaney in ANY direction you choose! Get anywhere without the inconvenience of WALKING! Don’t you just HATE walking sometimes? This is the solution for you!
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Of course, since this is also a hammer, you can bash anyone and anything with it. This has its own range of abilities that we plan to add, though not shown here. Rest assured that your screen will be filled with beautifully vibrant damage numbers and repeating sounds of the screams of the damned.
Violence aside, how does it all work?
NOT The Backrooms
Here be dragons! This section of the ManaPost is quite technical! We encourage you to read up on these concepts/algorithms if you’re interested. The reference used for a majority of this implementation can be found here
First, we generate a fixed number of rooms with random size within a circular area. Rooms that are larger than a set threshold, we label as “Hub Rooms,” or rooms where you’ll find most monsters.
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Then, we run — not joking here — a Delaunay Triangulation algorithm on each Hub Room, creating a sort of graph that connects every Hub Room to each other.
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Then, we use Kruskal’s Algorithm to find the Minimum Spanning Tree of the aforementioned triangulation graph.
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Then, we add a few edges back from the Delaunay Triangulation. 
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Lastly, generate the hallways connecting these rooms, and remove the rooms that aren't necessary (labeled in red,) and boom, fungeon!
This is a very simplified explanation of this generation algorithm, and again, if you would like a little more in depth “tutorial” once again, the reference we used for this system can be found here.
With the 🤓 out of the way, we finally have the makings of a decent gameplay loop! You can finally pause and exit the game! A Manapotion first :)
We don't have much else to show since we're still working out the kinks in this new system, but know that we're doing our best to make these DelaneyPosts as content-filled as possible, since it's a very simple game in contrast to Manaport.
To bring this DelaneyPost to a close,
Thank you very much for sticking with us this past month. We've made lots of great progress on our two games and we love to share these tidbits with you every weekend. We hope you've had a great pride month!
See you all next week!
C and Y
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scrapyardboyfriends · 10 months
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Sooo, what now? The whole deal with Caleb was that everyone hated him, and he needed a redemption. Now he's just up and running and him and Nicky are "fine". What he's going to do a Chas and mop around for a bit, until everyone just decides that they are bored with being angry with him now. He has zero purpose now. But then again so does Will (and Chloe) but they still insist on keeping him around for gods knows why to.
That’s a really excellent question. One that I’m not so sure they’ve thought too deeply about, which is a problem.
But they had him buy the Mill and they’ve redecorated it for him, so it seems both Caleb and Nicky are here to stay for the foreseeable.
Now, is there anything to do with them so they don’t just become more secret Dingles hanging around like half the rest?
Presumably, Caleb will still need a job although apparently he’s still rich? It’s hard to keep track. So he could try and worm his way back in at home farm or try and start some other business we’ll never see. Nicky technically needs a job too now that his nanny career is over. Although there are plenty of random children in this village that need looking after. Someone should capitalize on that.
There’s love. I can’t see him and Leyla working out and he doesn’t have many options but…maybe. Nicky only has getting Ally back or Ethan now that he’s supposedly due back but god they’d make a terrible couple. Unless one or both of them had a personality change.
I did see something about Caleb having more story with Cain and Moira and it damn well better not be an affair with Moira. I guess he could help the farm he tried to destroy. That's...a mild bit of purpose.
If I was trying to salvage this now, I'd stick with Home Farm. I know the show is seemingly terrified of actually changing anything but I still think they need more/better people up at Home Farm. Dawn and Billy need to stop sponging off her new step mom and go move into one of the empty cottages. Maybe they can house share with Mack and Chloe. *Shudders* Haha. They just don't belong at Home Farm. Get Billy a more useful job too. I still think he should go work at the Scrap Yard with Vinny. And like...maybe actually see it once in a while.
And then I'd have Caleb want to continue the fun family times and still cause Kim a bit of trouble, while not actively taking her on. So I'd have him reach out to Joe and recast him and Jean and bring both of them back. Claire King can't film as much anymore and she can't really film outside, so she's not in the village as much. I'm sick to death of Will being the main Home Farm representative in the village. He's the worst. So getting Joe and Jean back and having them work up there and be able to come down into the village would be great. And Caleb could leverage his relationship with them to get back into the businesses. It would be nice too if they actually started that Stud Farm or some other business we could actually see rather than just the HOP, which was frankly one of their worst business ideas.
But they're going to do none of that so I'm sure whatever nonsense it is it will range from mind numbingly boring and underwhelming to absolutely horrific. Can't wait!
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randomvarious · 10 months
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Today's compilation:
Rock Rolls On: Greatest Rock 'n' Roll Hits of the '50s 1984 Rock & Roll / Doo Wop / R&B
Two things you really gotta love about this double-LP release: first, the album art. I mean, who can resist this totally 80s aesthetic here, with all these bright, fluorescent colors placed onto a square-tiled background like this? Certainly not me. And second, you have to appreciate the whole budget nature that went into producing this thing too, because this really isn't your run-of-the-mill 50s oldies comp at all.
See, what this thing actually is, is a compilation that was put out by a label called Pair Records that happens to pull its selections from two other already existing compilations that were released in the 70s. You can't tell from the photo that was taken of the album art here, but if the photographer had zoomed out just a little bit more, they would've captured the disclaimer at the bottom of the front cover that says that all of the songs on the 2nd LP in this set are actually from a rockumentary soundtrack called Let the Good Times Roll, which featured a bunch of live recordings that were taken from two separate 1973 concerts during a rock & roll revival tour that included a whole bunch of 1950s and 60s staples on its billing. That soundtrack was put out on a label called Bell Records, which is owned by Arista.
And the only reason why I know all of this is because I bought this damn release myself and currently have it sitting right in front of me. I came across it on Discogs and saw some *very* strange track lengths—a Bo Diddley song with a runtime of over five minutes?!?—and decided to find out if they were correct. And it turns out that they certainly were.
However, what's not indicated at all on this release is where all of the tracks on the first LP come from. Now, these ones are all studio recordings, so whoever compiled this particular record could just say that they came up with all of these selections themselves; except for the fact that *all* of these songs also appear on another Bell comp from 1972 called You Must Remember These Volume I. So, given that the second LP is also comprised entirely of songs from a 70s Bell release, it would stand to reason that this first LP would be too, even though nothing on the release itself points to that fact.
But does any of this information actually matter, though? No, not really. Of course, at the end of the day, what really matters most is not so much the trivial provenance of these songs, but whether or not they themselves are actually good. And they are; they are *very good.*
The first LP serves up a bunch of spectacular doo wop tunes, leading with a stone-cold classic in Maurice Williams & The Zodiacs' "Stay," a 1960 chart-topper (hey, waitaseckin! Isn't this a 50s comp?! 🤔🤷‍♂️) that features some sudden and glorious falsetto on its chorus that comes courtesy of vocalist Henry Gaston. Then, following that one is a pretty immaculate remainder as well, but two especially sweet dollops are The Channels' "The Closer You Are," which never charted nationally(!), but was a big regional hit in 1956, and The Silhouettes' "Get a Job," which was another national chart-topper in '57. These two songs, to me, represent some of the absolute cream of the all-time vocal doo wop crop. Just powerful, totally electric songs, with vocalists who, together, make up a dynamic range, from low to mid to high. "The Closer You Are" sports both a weaving falsetto and an intermittent onomatopoeically bonging bassline, and "Get a Job" deploys some really catchy doo wop scatting, a fantastic sax solo, and a distinct, watery lead vocal from Bill Horton too. Terrific, deeply satisfying, and very lively doo wop fare in both of those unmissable tunes.
And speaking of lively, the second LP, which, again, only has live recordings on it, really brings it too. But the lone performer who stands out among the rest on this particular record is the one and only Little Richard. Two of his biggest hits in "Lucille" and "Good Golly Miss Molly" get lined up back-to-back here and they're both so irresistibly energetic. A pair of excellent performances that feature his signature "woo"s, as well as his passionate rasp and gravel. It's one thing to hear him do it in studio, but it's really a whole 'nother thing to hear it done live, with a very wanting, appreciative crowd and a full backing band to match all that both he and that crowd happen to give. Lots of infectious reciprocation going around in both of those songs that ends up generating a great and unforgettable atmosphere.
What's unfortunate for you, though, is that I can't actually find *any* of these live recordings on YouTube! 😧 I mean, go figure, right? A seemingly unassuming budget comp of 50s hits from the 80s actually has a bunch of tunes on it that can now be considered rare by today's standards? Funny how that works, eh?
So, yes, this is a cheap and completely unoriginal release of 50s songs that appears to pull all of its material from two other places. But more importantly, because of the music that's on it, it really still is a phenomenal double-LP set, and very surprisingly, it has a slew of tunes on it that you actually can't easily find these days. You'd think that all commercially released live recordings of such rock & roll luminaries as Bill Haley and His Comets, Little Richard, and Bo Diddley would be on YouTube already, but apparently not!
Feel free to message me if you're interested in hearing them, though!
Highlights:
Maurice Williams & The Zodiacs - "Stay" The Turbans - "When You Dance" The Nutmegs - "Story Untold" The Channels - "The Closer You Are" The Silhouettes - "Get a Job" Lee Allen & His Band - "Walkin' With Mr. Lee" The Five Satins - "In the Still of the Night" Bill Haley And His Comets - "Rock Around the Clock" Little Richard - "Lucille" Little Richard - "Good Golly Miss Molly" Bo Diddley - "Hey Hey Hey"
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anomalys-taxonomy · 1 year
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Smith’s Thesis: part 3
Summary: The lab gained a few new acquisitions, and the employees discuss
Warnings: creepy coworker, inhumane experimentation, harm to children (mentioned/implied), fantasy racism
This takes place roughly 15 years before the present of Smith’s Thesis!
Isidore leans against the glass and steel guard rails of the second floor. She watches the guards haul in two new subjects with mild curiosity. There’s no reason for all the fuss down below. Half of those people aren’t even in any of the relevant departments. Granted, she isn’t either, but still.
One of the subjects is snarling, trying to snap at bystanders despite the muzzle. It’s taking a few guards to restrain them, too. Damn.
She hears a whistle beside her, echoing her thoughts.
“Impressive. The carnage is going to be terrible if they let that thing out,” Collins says, his mouth stretched into an unduly pleased grin.
“What, you want Felder’s job?” she asks, turning to look at him. Job jealously she could get, at least. But the way his face looks.. doesn’t seem to match that. The noise of the shuffle below is beginning to fade, scientists being told to get back to their jobs, and the subjects dragged off.
“Been there, done that,” He waves a hand, gaze riveted to the few people still milling around after all that hullabaloo. He’s still grinning. “I just think it’s.. nice to have something to keep us on our toes.”
Isidore holds her breath, trying to push down the chills commandeering her body. This guy always gives her the creeps. “Well, you have fun with that,” She says, with a swift and not at all fearful departure. She can feel his eyes on her back, but she doesn’t turn her head. When she gets to the break room of her department, her coworkers are still talking about the subjects. They too are talking about potential casualties- as if it’s to be expected.
“I thought our security was supposed to be good?” She asks, and the others turn to her. Most of them are at least a few years her senior at working here.
“The best,” Pen says soberly. He’s absently mixing the straw in an empty coffee cup. If she didn’t know he was prone to doing this, she may be a little more wigged out.
Sheila nods along. “Or one of. We’ve got biometric scanning, total guard outfitting, lockdown contingencies for every bloc. Way better than others in our.. industry. Me, I’m not about to be expendable,”
That’s tracks with what she heard before, but then why-?
Ishikawa can seemingly sense her question, and answers.
“We haven’t had this type in a while. They’re very loyal to one another and very, very strong. It’s pretty hard to capture them because they tend to come in groups. They’re 452s- you know that classification?”
“Mm.. somewhere in the North American monsters range?” Thankfully, none of them seem to think she’s stupid for not knowing. Shiela’s looking over to Ishikawa with renewed interest, now. Maybe Ishikawa has some history with 452s- whatever they are.
“Exactly. Werewolves. I hear the only reason they were able to capture them is that they were adolescents,”
“No, no,” Shiela says. “They made a deal. They found a whole town, strongarmed em into giving up a few every so often in return for not destroying the whole,”
“A whole *town*?” Pen asks in surprise. “That’s crazy,”
“It was previously the norm. They tend to stay together in close knit communities. They couldn’t avoid detection, but it’s pretty hard to fight off or destroy an entire town,” Ishikawa explains.
“Oh, that’s right. You worked in bio previously, didncha?” Shiela gestures to Ishikawa with her coffee cup. “You must’ve seen something before.”
“That’s before my time, honestly. You’d have to ask someone way older,” he shrugs. But he’s folded his arms across his middle like he’s trying to protect something. She and Sheila share a glance. ‘No,’ she mouths at Sheila. Her coworker grumbles to herself, and downs the rest of her coffee in one go.
“Well, it’s been nice chatting with you folks, but I’ve got a report due,” she waves, tosses the disposable coffee cup into a trash can, and leaves.
“I should go too,” Ishikawa says, abruptly dismissing himself.
She and Pen are left at the table, and she isn’t sure what to say. Maybe she should’ve asked what’s up with Collins instead. It seems like this conversation was a mistake.
Before she can dismiss herself too, the alarms start blaring. Well, fuck.
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