#I don’t want to grow up. I’m not ready

[riddlesb1tch]

Claimed by Shadows

Azriel Shadowsinger x reader

summary: Azriel finds out that you are going to be helping your friend Kaelen with a task and he gets a bit...jealous.

warnings: none

"Azriel, wake up!" You shook your boyfriend’s shoulder, trying to rouse him from sleep. You had been at it for the past ten minutes, standing beside his bed, fully dressed and ready for the day, while Azriel hadn't even grazed the hem of consciousness.

Growing impatient, you gave his shoulder a more violent shake, but the stubborn male simply groaned, rolling away from you as if the world beyond his dreams didn’t exist.

You knew he was doing this on purpose. The exaggerated snoring, the way his lips twitched with suppressed amusement—it was all a game to him. Teasing you seemed to be his favorite pastime.

Crossing your arms, you huffed, "Azriel, if you don't wake up, I'm leaving, and you won’t see me the entire weekend!"

That got him moving.

In a blink, Azriel sat up and yanked you down onto the bed, pulling a surprised shriek from your lips. Before you could even register what had happened, you found yourself pinned beneath him, his powerful frame hovering over yours.

"Az!" you gasped, glaring up at him.

He smirked, his golden-brown eyes filled with heat and amusement. His tousled black hair fell over his forehead, his bare chest warm against yours. His lips—plump and pink—parted slightly as he took you in.

"You know," he murmured, voice still husky from sleep, "you look so hot when you're threatening me."

Butterflies erupted in your stomach at his words, and you internally cursed yourself for how easily he affected you.

Rolling your eyes, you retorted, "How would you know? Your eyes were closed."

Azriel grinned. "Touché." Then, before you could say another word, he leaned down and caught your lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

His thumb stroked your jaw as his hand came up to cup your face, and when you tangled your fingers in his soft hair, pulling him closer, a low groan escaped his throat—sending a thrill straight through you.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and smiling, Azriel pressed one last kiss to your forehead before collapsing onto his back and pulling you to his chest.

You lay there, fingers tracing lazy patterns over his stomach.

"You wanna go to the café later today?" he asked casually, brushing his fingers through your hair.

You lifted your head, meeting his gaze through your lashes. "You know, your efforts in asking me on a date have dropped significantly since we started dating."

Azriel playfully swatted at your shoulder. "Do you, though?"

You sighed. "I can’t. I promised Kaelen I’d help him go through some old potion books to find a cure for the plague in the Autumn Court."

Azriel’s brows immediately furrowed. "When? You didn’t tell me about this before."

"I just did," you replied with a teasing smile, reaching out to stroke his cheek.

Azriel sat up suddenly, facing you, his expression unreadable. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, then closed again.

"Are you okay?" you teased. "Shall I fetch a fishbowl for you, Mr. Shadowsinger?"

Azriel ignored your quip, his jaw tightening. "Why you?"

"Because he asked for my help," you shrugged. "It’s not a big deal, Azzie."

Azriel’s expression darkened. "He obviously has a crush on you, Y/N!"

You blinked, then laughed outright. "That’s ridiculous!"

Azriel did not look amused.

"Y/N, I’ve seen the way he looks at you," he insisted. "During training, after training, every time you’re in the same room—"

"He’s my friend," you interrupted, shaking your head. "And even if he did have a crush on me, I’m not interested, so you have no reason to be jealous."

Azriel exhaled sharply, but his grip around your waist tightened possessively.

"I’m not jealous," he sputtered, though the glint in his eyes said otherwise. "I just don’t want another male eyeing what mine"

You grinned. "Okay, that was kind of cute."

Azriel smirked, but you could still feel the tension in his body.

"Now," you continued, pressing a kiss to his cheek before slipping out of bed, "I’m heading down to breakfast. See you there in a few?"

"Yeah," Azriel muttered, watching you go, still brooding.

Breakfast had come and gone, and Azriel never showed up.

You now sat in the Townhouse with Mor, half-listening to her chatter while your eyes constantly wandered to the door, waiting for your missing Shadowsinger.

Finally, Cassian walked in.

"Hey, Y/N," he greeted.

"Hey," you replied, still watching the door.

Cassian raised a brow. "Looking for someone?"

"Yeah," you sighed. "Did you see Azriel?"

Cassian shook his head, offering an apologetic shrug.

Before you could dwell on it, Kaelen appeared in front of you.

"Hey!" he greeted with a smile. "Still good for the library at one?"

"Yep!" you confirmed.

And then—as if summoned by pure spite—the doors finally opened, and in walked the Shadowsinger.

Your stupidly handsome boyfriend zeroed in on you instantly… and then his gaze darkened when he spotted Kaelen.

Striding over, Azriel dropped into the seat beside you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, kissing your forehead.

"Hey, princess," he murmured. Then, to Kaelen—dryly—"Hey."

Kaelen nodded stiffly, then quickly took his leave.

You turned to Azriel, crossing your arms. "I waited for you for over an hour! Where were you?"

Azriel smirked and pulled a small bag from behind him. "I went to get you this."

You frowned as he held up a blue hoodie with “AZRIEL’S GIRL” embroidered in gold across the front.

"What is that?" you asked incredulously.

"Your outfit," he declared, "for when you’re with Kaelen. So he knows you’re mine."

You groaned. "Azriel, the whole damn Court already knows we’re together!"

"I’d just like to make it extra clear so he can focus his efforts on someone else," he said smugly.

"You’re impossible," you muttered, but a small laugh escaped you.

Azriel leaned in and whispered, "Besides… you look crazy sexy in blue."

Your cheeks flamed, and you shoved him away.

After much persuasion (and lowkey begging from Azriel), you begrudgingly wore the hoodie over your outfit before meeting Kaelen.

"Cool hoodie," he remarked, smirking.

You mumbled a quiet, "Thanks," before diving into your research.

An hour later, as you were packing up, a male dressed in an orange tunic approached Kaelen.

"Hey, babe," the male said, kissing Kaelen’s lips.

Azriel, standing beside you, visibly paled.

Kaelen was—as you had told him—not even remotely interested in you.

Turning to Azriel with a smug grin, you said, "See, Azzie?"

Azriel cleared his throat. "You didn’t say he was gay."

You smirked. "Regardless… you should listen to your girlfriend."

Azriel just groaned.

[muhlsworld]

WHATS WRONG WITH ME?

synopsis: you rescue nika from a bad date.

WARNINGS: suggestive (no actual smut), cussing, talks about sex, not proofread

it was a relaxing evening in seattle. you were getting ready to watch one of your favorite movies when your best friend nika sends you a text saying ‘911’. instead of answering the text you called her. “hey is everything okay?” you asked the second she picked up the phone. “yeah i’m on my way, don’t worry i’ll be there soon.” nika said quickly and then hanging up. you were so confused until you got a second text from her.

‘bad date. had to leave. omw to yours’

then it all made sense. you simply liked her message waiting for her to show up. a few minutes later you heard the door open. knowing it was nika since she had your spare key. “in the living room.” you shouted so she could go towards you. she walked in the living room looking as beautiful as ever. wearing that black leather set that you helped pick out.

“omg im so sorry for barging in but i just had the worst date ever.” nika said with her head in her hands. “wanna tell me about it?” you asked trying to be as supportive as you could. “the date itself wasn’t that bad you know? he was cute and respectful. but after the dinner we went back to his place.” she said stopping slightly and you nodded understanding what she was referring to.

waiting for her to continue you placed a comforting hand on her thigh. “it was going good too, we were making out and it wasn’t the worst but as i went to sit on his lap i felt nothing. like actually nothing” she said almost embarrassed. “so he wasn’t hard yet right?” you asked slightly uncomfortable with the conversation. “see that’s what i thought too so we kept going but he just wouldn’t get hard. like we literally couldn’t even do anything.” she stated frustrated.

you look at her in shock with what she was telling you. you honestly didn’t know what to tell her to make her feel better. so you opted for slightly rubbing her thigh to make her feel comforted. then she spoke up again “is there something wrong with me?” nika asked. “what the hell? no what are you talking about?” you asked confused at the question. “am i not hot enough?” she asked sheepishly.

you looked at her like she was insane. she was the most beautiful woman you’ve set your eyes on. she was literally a goddess in your eyes. “what nika? why would you say that?” you asked. “i don’t know it’s just…” she paused for a little “do you think i’m hot?” nika asked. before your brain could stop you from speaking you blurted out “of course i do”. your eyes went wide are your confession.

you slapped your hand on your forehead from the embarrassment. but what you didn’t see was nikas smirk. “you think i’m hot?” she asked almost seductively. you nodded hesitantly. the tension in the room growing thicker and thicker. “so you wouldn’t mind helping me out right?” she asked. you shook your head and then said “what do you need help with?”

“let me kiss you.” nike said bluntly. you mouth dropped slightly at the statement. “help me prove to myself that i can make someone horny. help me make sure there’s nothing wrong with me.” she practically begged. your mouth went dry at those words. without waiting any longer you answered.

“okay.”

and with that confirmation nika turned to face towards you on the couch and leaned in slightly so your lips touched. it was a quick peck at first. and then once she saw you were okay with it she pulled you onto her lap. each one of your legs on either side of hers. nikas hands were planted on your waist as your hands went around her neck.

once you were settled in her lap, she captured your lips in yet another kiss. but this time it was hungrier. one of her wants move slowly up your back until she reached your head. so she grabbed a fistful of your hair as she tugged a little. you opened your mouth slightly at the sensation and nika took the initiative to slide her tongue in your mouth.

you moaned as she inserted her tongue into your mouth. nika took that as a sign that she was doing good. so with that she placed her hand back down on your waist firmly. your heart was practically beating out of your chest. you felt like everything was on fire. but you knew nika was only doing this to prove something to herself. so you let her.

after making out for a few minutes she started to place kisses down your jawline and up to your earlobe. she tugged at your earlobe with her teeth and you let out a sigh of satisfaction. she started to kiss down you neck sucking slightly at certain spots. and that’s when your body betrayed you.

you started to slowly grind down on nikas legs begging for some friction. nika was happy with what she was doing to you and she was showing it by grabbing you waist harsher and guiding your hips down into her.

this went on for a few minutes until you couldn’t take it anymore. you wanted more. you needed more. and nika did too. nika started to slide her hand down to your thighs slightly massaging your thigh, inching herself closer to where you wanted her most. but before she did she looked up at you. “are you sure?” she asked. “there’s no going back after this.” she stated. you nodded slowly getting of her lap and leading her your bedroom.

the night consisted of pure pleasure between the two of you. and you couldn’t have been more happy that nikas date ended the way it did.

A/N: please give me requests 🙏

[gremlin-girly]

Forget-me-not Blues

Ask and ye shall recieve! Buckle up buttercups, this is my first Soulmate AU.

Banner by me and the images were sourced from Pinterest, made in Canva

Dividers by: @/sweetmelodygraphics

Pairing: Bucky x f!reader

Tags/Warnings: FLUFF, ANGST/WHUMP, Soulmate Mate Mark AU!, mentions of death., mentions of torture, right person wrong time, 2nd and 3rd person P.O.V, petnames (doll)

I’m leaving out some tags so I don’t go spoiling the plot so please read at your own risk! Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be copied, reposted or translated (or put through AI)

A/N: I cut a huge chunk about Soulmate AU context at the beginning because it felt unnecessary. It's just a world where word/phrase of the soulmate's is written on them; it's not always the first thing they say to a person :)

More Author’s Notes are at the end of this fic so if you want to know more about the flowers and some thoughts I had whilst writing this, please go take a peek! This has been a labour of love.

Summary: A story about finding and losing soulmates to the test of time.

Word count: 4.2k

Navigation | The Bucky Barnes Collection

1942

Your family had owned a flower stand for as long as you could remember. Ever since you could stand on your own two feet your father put you to work handing out daisies to every woman, young or old, that passed by just to put a smile on their face.

Adorned with roses, daisies, poppies and more, the colourful stall had always been popular. Your father expertly wrapped combinations of flowers in old newspapers until the war began. He believed it was bad luck to wrap gifts in bad news.

When your father had been called to return to service, he had entrusted the stall to you. The old women who’d lost husbands and sons in the war would often buy a poppy or three, and any of the soldiers on a short stay would always buy a dozen or so roses for all of the dames.

James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes was one of your best customers. Bucky was always smiling, flirting and generally schmoozing his way by, often with a battered Steve Rogers in tow. Bucky being the big romantic he was liked roses, of course, and would frequently stop by your stall on his way home from work.

“Hey doll,” Bucky grinned, leaning against your display table.

You couldn’t help but smile back. The playful air he had around him was infectious and you half wished you could find a soul mate like him. Or wished you could just have him.

“Afternoon Buck,” You fluff up a pile of pink roses. Despite the trying times, business was booming. A lot of dates, a lot of weddings and a lot of funerals. “Want the usual?”

Bucky plucks up a rose and twirls it in his fingers before raising it to his nose and inhaling the gentle, sweet scent. His grin grows wider, his boyish charm shining through with the glimmer of mischief in his blue eyes and the dirt on his cheeks from a long day at work.

You know what’s coming next.

“No, Bucky.” You say airily, smiling at him as you move to the next pile of roses on the stall. Bucky gapes at you.

“Please, doll. One dance - that’s all ’m askin’!”

It’s now the sixth time he’s asked you and each time he looks like a kicked puppy when you tell him no.

“Yes but one dance turns into two, then three.” You tease, moving around the stall to face him, plucking the rose from his fingers and leaning close. “And then you’ll be dancing with a new dame next week anyway. I’m just cutting out the middle man. Plenty of men like you come by my stall, James.”

You turn away from him with a short shrug, placing the pink rose back into it’s correct pile before moving to a new carefully packed crate of flowers that need unpacking.

“What if I’m not the man you think I am?” Bucky counters, following after you. “Maybe I’m terrible at dancing.”

Chuckling you turn to face him, ready to spout another weak excuse to not go with him, when one of your white roses is stuffed under your nose. Raising an eyebrow you look over at Bucky, who’s smirking at you.

“Hi, my name’s Bucky and, if you’d be so kind as to let me take you dancing sometime, I promise to make it worth your while.”

You feel heat crawl up your face as you start to laugh. “Why are you introducing yourself to me?”

“Because,” Bucky shrugs, the twinkle in his eyes becoming a bright sparkle now that you’re laughing. “I’m not the man you think I am. And life’s too short, doll. I’d like to spend at least one night of my life dancin’ with you.”

How were you going to argue with that?

But something seemed… strange. When you’d say no, usually he’d banter with you a bit more and ask about your dad, you’d ask after his mom, his sister and Steve before he’d trot on his merry little way with you gazing after him.

Today, Bucky was insistent but behind his eyes was a sadness you hadn’t seen before. Your heart strings tugged, something within you screamed at you to say yes like you had desperately wanted to all those times before. No more imagining what it would feel like to have his hands in yours as you twirled and danced well into the night.

“Sure,” you sigh after a few moments, trying not to seem too eager. Bucky beams at you so brightly anyone else would think you’ve hung the moon and hands you your white rose with a mocking bow.

“One dance.” You add firmly, heart fluttering as your fingers brush his when you pluck the rose from him.

Bucky puts his hand on his heart, beginning to walk backwards. As he passes your stall he stuffs a dollar into your change jar and bats his eyelashes innocently at you.

“I only need one dance to make you fall in love with me, doll!” He continues walking backwards, narrowly avoiding other New Yorkers, but his eyes never leave yours. “I’ll pick you up at seven!”

You shake your head with a grin, watching him go. There was an electric charge all around you and you felt excited for your long-dreamed-of date with one Bucky Barnes.

Dancing with Bucky was exactly how you imagined it would be; your feet barely touched the ground as he spun and lifted you. You felt lighter than air as you looked down at Bucky's grinning face, eyes sparkling with joy as he held you close. One dance quickly turned to three.

After the third, Bucky led you to a nearby table.

"So much for one dance." Bucky teases lightly, his hand still lightly holding your waist. You're thankful your flushed cheeks hide your embarrassment but you're smiling regardless. Before he can ask you what drink he can get you, We'll Meet Again begins to crackle over the speaker and you drag him back to the dance floor.

"Hey, shouldn't I be leading doll?" He jokes, hands immediately encompassing your hips once you'd found a space to sway in.

"Hush," You murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I like this song."

Bucky smiles down at you and says nothing further until the song finishes. You both mimic the other, swaying to the music and gently singing along as you gaze at eachother.

"I should walk you home doll." Bucky says quietly once the song finishes. You feel a little light-headed and breathless, even though you'd only been swaying and you notice that Bucky's hands are still on your waist.

"O-okay." You swallow. If Soulmates didn't exist, you'd be kissing him right about now. "I know a short-cut."

"This," Bucky looked up as the wrought iron fence. "Is a short-cut?"

"Where's your sense of adventure?" You grin back at him as you crawl through a gap in the fence. "Come on Sarge, it's not far I promise."

Bucky sighs with a smile, pulling his dress pants up so they don't rip at the knees when he crawls through the gap after you. You take his hand and lead him blindly through the dark park, the both of you stumbling and giggling like teenagers, until you reach a dirtpath leading through a small thatch of trees to a clearing. The light of the moon illuminates the clearing into a sea of blue. Forget-me-nots are clustered together in one large group in the clearing; thousands upon thousands of tiny blue flowers that disappear to black when the moon vanishes again behind a cloud.

"Wow," Bucky breathes. "You've been holdin' out on me, doll. If I knew this was here, I'd have taken you on a romantic picnic instead of dancin'."

“Yeah, I could spend forever getting lost in those forget-me-not blues,” you sigh wistfully, looking over at Bucky's face.

“Well doll, forget me not.” He punctuates each word with a sad smile.

What should be a joyous moment filled with love, happiness and a rainbow of technicolour is soured by the harsh reality that Bucky wouldn't be staying in New York any longer. You shouldn't be too surprised, you knew he got drafted but you can see it in his eyes, the utter sadness of your situation. You can't even enjoy finding your soulmate in peace.

“You’ve got orders.” You can barely eke the words out of your closing throat.

Bucky nods, swallowing thickly and looking at your entwined hands. “Got my letter the other day. England."

You breathe out, long and slow, your nose becoming more blocked as more tears stream down your face and your throat burns with unvoiced sobs. It was unfair. So, so unfair.

“I could never forget you James Buchanan Barnes. Never.“ You say firmly, gazing over at him and squeezing his hand hard.

"I'll write to you everyday." He promises, squeezing your hand back. "I'll come back and visit every chance I can get until this war is over. And then-"

You cut him off with a quick kiss that doesn't even begin to convey how happy you are to have found him, trying to protect your heart from more hurt that undoubtedly will come.

"Save it for your letters," You tease softly, sniffing away tears. "I want something to look forward to while I wait."

Bucky grins and pecks your lips back. "You got it, doll."

You both stay on that log until the early hours, basking in each other's presence before Bucky was deployed to England the next afternoon. The voids left in your hearts when you separated were almost too much to bare but when you were safely home, and Bucky tucked away on a boat, you both immediately began to work on your letters to each other.

Being posted in England isn't too bad to begin with. In fact, Bucky thinks that his letters are too boring but he doesn't want to fill the letters with how much he misses you or how he wishes he could be with you instead; he knows you know it too, and it doesn't make it hurt any less.

When he's sent to Europe, suddenly those boring, mundane letters are a God-send. One of your letters contained a good Iuck charm, courtesy of your small slice of blue paradise ; a single pressed forger-me-not into a piece of card with a lipstick stain of your lips on the reverse. Bucky kept the piece in his left breast pocket, just over his heart, keeping the thought of you near wherever he went.

The first thing he does after Steve rescues him is write you.

He leaves out the details but tells you not to worry, he'll be home soon. Tell Mom and Rebecca not to worry too.

Days later, when he's lying in the snow bleeding from the Stump that was his left arm, he wonders if it was all worth it. Your lucky charm had disappeared somewhere during the fall and Bucky sobbed at the thought that not only had he lost his arm but a piece of you too. Delirious with blood loss, he imagined your face in the cold comfort of the snow, smiling playfully like you always did, kissing him so tenderly like you had on your date all those moons ago. He couldn't leave you without a soulmate.

Hearing approaching footsteps crunching in the snow, Bucky screamed for help, hoping, praying that it was Steve.

It wasn't.

Turns out, HYDRA don't like it when their science experiments escape and despite vowing to escape a second time once he's healed, it's nigh impossible. And not without consequence.

Bucky's vow quickly becomes to always remember you instead when he's strapped to the electric chair, biting on his tongue so hard he draws blood. The more his brain cooks in the chair, the more torture he's subjected to, the more your face blurs in his mind's eye. It kills him, little by little, knowing you're fading from his memory but he still tries to remember your face. He still hopes, dreams and thinks of you. Would you remember him? Would you recognise him if he returned from this hell on Earth?

What breaks him is not the twenty-seven long years of being thawed and unthawed, tortured and electrocuted. It's the one rainy day where his heart hurts so badly, he screams until he can't any longer. It's the day his blurred soulmate's face is torn from his soul and leaves him all alone in the cruellest, darkest place imaginable.

The premature death of Bucky Barnes' soulmate caused the birth of the Winter Soldier after twenty-seven gruelling years.

How could you suffer on knowing you would never see your one true love again? His brain and heart couldn't win out after that.

Present Day

Museums were Bucky’s favourite places to be on his days off. There was something comforting about the silence and the relics of human history, the evolution and study of animals, rocks and bones and the celebration of human artistry that wasn’t as overwhelming as the Internet. The Internet was faster, sure, but museums had everything in one neat place and no two museums were the same.

He and Steve had spent countless days of their childhood visiting the Natural History Museum and then when he'd finally broken away from HYDRA, he'd visited every museum he could find to learn about himself and the developments after the war that he'd missed.

Today, though, Bucky had decided to take a longer wander through the galleries. It was easy to walk through and ignore the paintings until something caught your eye but Bucky was insistent that he would stop at every painting today and perhaps try to see what Steve sees.

The galleries aren’t busy, as usual. A few old couples taking a wander through, a gaggle of tourists taking photos and an art student or two studying brush strokes of portraits. However, in a small alcove surrounded by paintings of flowers and woodland, sat a woman who looked entirely out of place.

It wasn't with what she was wearing or how she looked but something just didn't seem right. Bucky knew he should probably investigate but dammit it was his day off; he deserved some peace and quiet.

The woman is still there when he makes it to the alcove and the pull from his chest is unbearable now. He was wrong before when he'd thought that she didn't seem right; she was perfect. He couldn't remember when he'd last seen someone so beautiful that she looked like a rare painting come to life. Nervous didn't begin to describe the feelings swirling in his chest. There was an unfathomable joy coupled with anxiety and he wished he kept gum in his leather jacket right now.

“I could spend forever getting lost in those forget-me-not blues.” The woman sighs dreamily, gazing at the painting before her.

The hair on Bucky’s arm and neck stand on end, his heart rate sky rocketing. He’d heard that phrase before.

“What did you say?”

Bucky's caught off guard when she turns to look over at him, her eyes catching his for a small respite and he almost folds like a deck chair. The air is sucked out of Bucky’s lungs so quickly he can barely process it and he feels faint, no dizzy, from just looking at her properly. Her eyes are wide with surprise but there's a sliver of playfulness that hides within them and whatever ever was nagging at him earlier has now blossomed into a crackling hearth of building adoration that was vaguely familiar somehow.

Bucky's eyes drop to her neck, where a tiny blue flowers pendant sits on a delicate silver chain. It's delicate but sweet, an almost perfect compliment to her being.

“Oh! I’m sorry. Talking to myself.” The stranger gives him a sheepish smile and turns back to the painting. “Beautiful isn’t it?”

Bucky tears his eyes from her and looks at the painting; two blurred figures dancing amongst a sea of blue flowers, similar to the necklace she wears. The male figure is holding the female figure's hand as her dress billows and blends into the flowers. Although they don't have faces, it's clear these figures are happy and in love.

For some odd reason, Bucky feels a wave of melancholy. He can't place why when there's a stunning woman in front of him.

"Does it make you feel sad?" The woman asks suddenly. Bucky glances over to see that her expression has changed to one of longing.

"I... yeah. Even though-"

"-they look happy." She finishes, looking over with a wry smile. "Sorry, I shouldn't be so depressing to a stranger."

Bucky smiles and shifts on his feet. He wants to say something more, tell her that it's fine, but instead he dumbly states;

"I like your necklace."

He regrets it as soon as he says it and looks to his feet. Didn't this used to be easy? Hadn't he charmed women both as Bucky and the Winter Soldier?

"Oh! This?" She fiddles with the pendant between her thumb and fore finger, inspecting it gently. She doesn't seem bothered by the awkward compliment. "I just like forget-me-nots."

Forget-me-nots. Something in his mind flashes with recognition.

“Why forget-me-nots?” He asks suddenly.

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you like them?”

The woman pauses and scratches her face thoughtfully, as if trying to place when she began loving the tiny flower. "I… don’t know, actually. I just always have.”

She offers Bucky a shrug. “I guess they’re pretty? Teeny, tiny little things but the colour?” She gives Bucky an impressive smile but then it falters for a moment as she catches his eyes again, really looking at them this time. “Wow. Your eyes are some shade of blue.”

Bucky starts to smile wider. He feels like himself, how he used to be back in the 30s. Even though there's something about her that makes him suffer this almost recognition, like she’s a word stuck on the tip of his tongue, he can't deny the joy and warmth he feels in her presence and he can't help but want keep speaking with her.

“Thanks.” He clears his throat and tries for nonchalance. "Do you... come here often?"

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he cringes, scrunching his face with disgusted embarrassment. So much for feeling like himself. Was flirting always so hard?

"Ugh. Sorry that was.... oh God." Bucky runs a hand down his face as the woman laughs.

“It’s alright and to answer, no - I don't. Today I just, well, it sounds stupid. But today I just really wanted to come here. I usually just walk straight past but I’m glad I did.” The flirtatious smirk she gives Bucky makes his knees wobble and he has to shift his weight to hide it. "You probably already know why they’re called forget-me-nots.” Bucky says, opting to try to sound knowledgeable instead of cool. Maybe that would be a better play. He doesn't know what's gotten into him. He's usually calm and collected. However, his heart is beating so hard he's scared it may fall right out of his chest.

“I do but tell me anyway.”

Bucky’s lip twitch into a smirk and the woman pats the empty space next to her, shuffling over slightly to make space for Bucky. His knee knocks hers and he gives a quiet, embarrassed apology before clearing his throat to recite what he'd been told.

“They used to be given to soldiers going off to war by their lovers.” He says. “I don’t remember who told me but…”

He trails but the woman is transfixed on his face.

"Sorry." Bucky scrunches his nose and smiles. "I got lost for a moment."

"At least you came back." The woman smiles in return. She looks back towards the painting again. Bucky tells himself that it’s out of old observational habits that he watches her face; how her eyes look longingly at the dancing couple of the painting, the sweet curve of her lips as she smiles.

"Do you think they were soulmates?"

"I think they're two people who love each other." Bucky says cautiously and when the woman raises an eyebrow at him, he shrugs sheepishly, waving his left arm. "Sorry I... I don't have one. The writing must have been on my left arm and I can't remember what it said. I'm a little jaded, unfortunately."

She frowns and points to his arm. "Your arm looks fine to me."

Bucky snorts and smiles sheepishly at her. “It’s a…. um, prosthetic. I don’t have any words anywhere else so they had to have been on my left arm. I should have been clearer."

“Oh.” The woman's face turns fire-engine red with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry. That was so rude of me."

"Don't worry about it." Bucky shrugs it off with a chuckle before swiftly changing the subject. "What do you like about the painting?"

“I’d love to do that one day.” She says wistfully after a moment, nodding at the figures.

“Do what? Dance?” Bucky asks curiously, sensing an opportunity. “You can dance whenever you want. We can dance right here if you want, I’ll ask one of the guards for music.”

She laughs, no chuckle this time, a pure lilt of happiness that makes Bucky’s heart twist in his chest and he can’t help but smile a little wider. Flirting was a little bit like riding a bike, not that he’d been interested in flirting much since having his brain fried multiple times.

The woman glances over at him, biting back a smile and rolling her eyes playfully. “Riiiiiight. Sure."

"I mean it!" Bucky bolsters, hopping to his feet. "I-..."

He falters for a moment when he sees her grin; her challenge. Her eyes meet his, bright and sparkling. Whatever he feels he knows she feels it too. He offers his left arm to her, stiff and awkward as his face blooms red.

“Hi, my name’s Bucky and, if you’d be so kind as to let have this dance, I promise to make it worth your while.”

The woman snorts and laughs again but she takes hold of his gloved hand, rising to her feet.

"Y/N. And just one." Her tone is firm but her glittering eyes betray the same excitement he feels. "What about music?"

"Heard they have music on phones nowadays, doll." Bucky quips, his free hand reaching for his phone in his back pocket. He doesn't notices she's raised a curious brow.

"Doll? That's a new one."

"I - oh..." Bucky grins sheepishly but before he can apologise, she stops him with a smile.

"I like it. Vintage."

Now it's Bucky's turn to snort. Who needed soulmates anyhow?

"Speaking of vintage." Bucky hits play on Vera Lynn's remastered classic.

"We'll Meet Again." She murmurs as Bucky's hands ghost along her waist. "Good choice."

"Thanks. Is this okay?"

"You're barely touching me." She giggles, wrists crossing behind his neck.

"Hey, I gotta make sure. Just follow my lead."

Vera Lynne's voice echoes around the alcove drawing curious peeks from other museum-goers but both Bucky and the woman in his arms couldn't care less as they swayed to the music. Y/N followed Bucky's footsteps as he guided her around the room with practices ease, poking fun at her lightly when she'd step on his feet accidentally.

An image rears its head in Bucky's mind's eye. There's a park, somewhere, with hundreds of forget-me-nots but he can't place the timeline. Did he go there as the Winter Soldier? Did he go there during the war? Was it a passing visit on a mission? He knows he didn’t find it, someone showed him. Maybe Steve? Someone else? Did he see it once in a dream?

“You’re a good dancer.” Y/N whispers against his chest as the song draws to a close. Bucky is sure she can hear his heartbeat through his leather jacket now. “I don’t think I could ever forget this.”

“Well, doll... Forget me not.” He doesn’t know why he says it. It’s cheesy at best, terrible word play at worst.

But she halts, blinking up at him. The silence in the alcove is so loud a pin could drop.

“What did you just say?”

It’s like a veil has lifted. The air shifts, Bucky can feel it now. That joy he buried earlier rose from the soles of his feet all the way up to his head. He felt like he was walking on air. He can see her eyes widen, further and further until their the size of dinnerplates, and there, almost within the depths of her soul; there's the flicker of recognition.

It's a domino effect. Y/N's soul reaches for Bucky's as memories flood back; lifetimes of memories, experiences and pain binding their souls together in a dance that will last for eternity.

The kiss they share is nothing like their first one. It's longer, more patient, relishing the electric feel of each other's lips for what feel like eons. “James Buchanan Barnes,” You breathe, tears of happiness filling your eyes. “I knew I wouldn’t forget you. And I knew you’d come back.”

"It's you," He chuckles, still not quite believing his eyes. "It's really you."

That playful smile he'd grown to love all those decades ago makes a swift appearance on your face and reaches the lights of your eyes as you look up at him.

"Now, if I remember correctly, we have a few decades worth of catching up to do."

END

A/N1: Ready for the flower symbolism? None of this the roses were pink because they were pink roses bs

Forget-Me-Nots: were given to lovers when their gifter went away to war. Commonly associated with the phrase “Forget me not.” (Duh). But they are also representative of remembrance, memory, love, friendship, hope, and fidelity. Source here

The necklace is based on this one on Etsy that I adore

Pink roses: (The first rose Bucky picks up and you steal back) symbolise admiration, happiness and love.

White roses: (The second rose Bucky picks up and hands to you) represent Innocence, purity and loyalty. Bucky’s intentions are were true.

These also are used for fresh starts, so can also be used as Bucky “starting over” (like when he goofily re-introduces himself to you and in the modern day where his memory has been wiped).

A/N 2: Name of the Fic

Well, a multitude of reasons really.

1) forget-me-nots are hardy plants that always come back (hence why reader says it to Bucky). He has an awful habit of bouncing back bless him.

2) Bucky’s Eyes: Azure blue? But there’s something about little poetic in a forget-me-not Blue ;)

3) Blues: Bucky is a big fan of Jazz, and Blues although Blues came before jazz its debated heavily on whether it is a sub-genre of jazz or if its a genre all on its own. Blues songs tend to be romantic, sad and slow; which I think are key elements of Bucky and his story.

4) Their meaning: true love and faithfulness. Can’t have a romance without those right?

5) the utter irony of the fact that Bucky did actually completely forget her lmao

A/N 3: I heavily debated how to incorporate the words of the Soul Mark back into modern day. Originally I was going to leave it kinda open ended at the gallery because I couldn’t think of a way to get Bucky’s words in without them seeming forced. But when I was doing a third edit of this, I realised they could end up having a haphazard date; which ended up as a replay of the 40s just so their souls could greet eachother again in the same place bc I am nothing if not a romantic at heart. I ended up scrapping that in favour of the museum alcove and having them recreate their "first date" there with the paintings acting as the woodland this time because I was struggling with dialogue and bridging the two - but I think it turned out pretty romantic!!!

This was my first time writing a Soulmate AU and I quite enjoyed myself! But I would like some feedback, and obviously all comments are welcome! It’s not to say I’m not proud of my other work on here but this story has been brewing for months (and I’m actually really happy that it won the WIP poll).

I wholly appreciate any comments or asks on this work!! I don’t quite think I’m ready to let it go yet 🥹 so much so that even though there's not a part 2 in the works, there's another fic in the same AU I'm working on ;)

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@irishhappiness | @awkwardgiraffe726

[gottencents]

Me After You - Jennie Kim

pairing. idol!jennie x singer!reader

synopsis. after an exhilarating concert, Y/N and Jennie share an intimate moment backstage.

The roar of the crowd had barely begun to fade as Y/N walked off stage, her heart still racing from the exhilarating performance. The spotlight had been blinding, the energy of the audience almost overwhelming, but now that she was backstage, there was a strange sense of emptiness creeping in. The adrenaline was wearing off, and the fatigue from the long tour hit her all at once.

She leaned against the dressing room door, taking deep breaths, trying to shake off the buzz of the show. The tour had been an emotional rollercoaster, each concert pushing her limits, but tonight had felt special. Maybe it was because of the people she shared it with—or maybe because of Jennie.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft voice that made her smile before she even turned around.

“Y/N,” Jennie’s voice came from behind her, low and playful. Y/N could hear the faint trace of breathlessness in Jennie’s tone, and for some reason, it made her pulse spike in her chest. Jennie always had that effect on her, no matter how many times they were close.

Y/N turned around to face her, her heart skipping at the sight of Jennie, slightly winded but glowing. She had just finished her own performance earlier that evening—everything about her was radiant. Jennie was one of those people who made everything seem effortless, even though Y/N knew better. She had witnessed firsthand the amount of work Jennie put into each performance, the sacrifices, and the discipline.

“Hey,” Y/N greeted her, her lips curving into a smile she couldn’t suppress. She was glad to see Jennie here. They hadn’t had much time to talk before or after the show, and Y/N found herself missing her presence more than usual.

Jennie stepped forward, her eyes scanning Y/N’s face as if trying to gauge her mood. There was an intimacy between them now, something unspoken that had built up over the past few months. Y/N wasn’t sure what to make of it yet—her feelings were still too new, still too raw—but there was a pull to Jennie, a magnetic force she couldn’t resist.

“You were amazing tonight,” Jennie said, her voice a soothing melody. “The crowd was wild. They loved every minute of it.”

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. “I don’t know about that. I’m just trying not to pass out on stage,” she joked, rubbing a hand over her forehead.

Jennie laughed softly, moving even closer to Y/N. She tilted her head, the dim light backstage catching the soft gleam in her eyes. “You’re too humble. You know that’s not true.” She paused, her gaze drifting from Y/N’s face to the floor, then back up again. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

Y/N felt a warmth spread through her chest, and the weight of the exhaustion seemed to momentarily lift. She swallowed, unsure of how to respond. There was something in Jennie’s voice that made her heart race—something tender, something real. It caught her off guard, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to fully face it yet.

Jennie took another step forward, the air between them thick with an unspoken tension. She reached out, fingers brushing against the hem of Y/N’s sleeve, a soft touch that sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine. “I meant it,” Jennie whispered. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you tonight. It was like watching someone who has finally found themselves on stage.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. Was that what Jennie saw when she looked at her? Y/N had spent so much of her life drowning in self-doubt, self-destruction, constantly questioning if she deserved anything good. But with Jennie, for some reason, she felt like maybe she did.

Before Y/N could say anything, Jennie closed the remaining distance between them. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if both of them were still figuring out what they wanted, what this meant. But it quickly deepened, the heat between them growing more palpable with every movement. Y/N’s hands found Jennie’s waist, pulling her in closer, as if trying to anchor herself to the moment, to this feeling she hadn’t allowed herself to embrace fully before.

Jennie responded immediately, her lips soft yet insistent as she parted Y/N’s lips with her own. The kiss was slow, explorative—tender but full of yearning. Jennie’s hand slid up Y/N’s back, gently cupping the back of her neck, and Y/N tilted her head, allowing Jennie better access. She could taste the faintest hint of the perfume Jennie wore, a sweet floral scent that made her feel like she was drowning in it.

Y/N’s mind raced. She couldn’t stop herself from thinking that this felt so right, so comfortable, even though they were still on the edge of figuring everything out. Jennie had been a constant in her life lately, and despite how unexpected this all was, Y/N couldn’t deny the pull she felt every time they were together.

Jennie’s hands slowly slid to the back of Y/N’s head, gently pulling her closer, deepening the kiss. The world around them seemed to blur into the background. All that mattered was Jennie’s soft breath against her lips, the way she melted into Y/N’s touch, and the magnetic force that kept drawing them together.

When they finally broke away for air, both of them were breathless, their chests rising and falling in sync. Jennie rested her forehead against Y/N’s, her fingers lightly trailing down the curve of her jaw.

“Y/N,” Jennie murmured, her voice a little shaky but soft. “I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, a mixture of emotions flooding her. She wasn’t sure what this was, where it would go, but she knew she couldn’t walk away from it. Not anymore. There was something about Jennie that made everything feel like it was falling into place, something about the way Jennie looked at her that made her believe maybe she could finally stop running.

“I know,” Y/N replied quietly, her voice just as soft. “I think… I think I’ve wanted it too.”

Jennie smiled, her eyes shining with something so pure, so raw, that it made Y/N’s heart ache in the best way. “Good,” Jennie whispered. “Because I’m not going anywhere, Y/N.”

Y/N closed her eyes, leaning into Jennie’s touch, allowing herself to relax in her arms. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she could be herself—unapologetically, completely. And she realized, with startling clarity, that Jennie was everything she needed, even if she hadn’t known it until now.

“Good,” Y/N whispered back, pulling Jennie in for one more kiss. This time, there was no hesitation, no uncertainty. Just the certainty that maybe—just maybe—this was the start of something beautiful.

And it was theirs.

[steven-g-rogers]

Steve turned back to him.  He felt so defeated.  But finally - finally - Tony seemed to be willing to let go of his resentment.  He swallowed and nodded.  “I was wrong,” he said.  He had said that already. Multiple times.  Sometimes with excuses.  Sometimes with explanations.  On a few occasions, just straight out, but Steve was going to mention that now.  He was just glad that Tony was open to hearing it.  “And I’m sorry.  I will try to do better.” 

Part of him wanted to slip right back into Captain America.  To puff out his chest and come over and shake Tony’s hand and move on with it.  But this argument had gotten right into the scared boy inside and poked around where it hurt most.  So while he was there, he was going to be honest with the other man.  Really truly vulnerably honest.  “Thank you.  Thank you for your forgiveness.  I did mean it when I said I’d understand if you weren’t ready to grant it,” he said.  “You’re right.  We do want the same thing, and I don’t want to do it on my own.  I know you put me in charge of running things here, and I appreciate your faith.  I am angry at myself that I let you down this badly.  But Tony, I know you love teasing me about being an old man, but hearing you talk about me, I think you’ve forgotten - I’m not.  I didn’t live that life.  I fell asleep and woke up and it was the next day.  Only it wasn’t.  It was sixty years later and almost everyone I knew was dead.  Not everyone though.  No - that might have been a mercy.  There were two people still here, the woman who I thought I might marry, only she was an old woman with dementia and a whole family that had grown up and started their own families, and my childhood best friend who had been tortured and used for the entire time I was asleep.”  He wiped his eyes with the balls of his hands, determined not to actually try now.  “I’m twenty-seven, Tony.  I’m twenty-seven.  You looked up to me growing up, and I’m fourteen years younger than you.  Think about the you you were when you were twenty-seven and ask yourself, would you expect that young man to behave as infallibly as you expect me to?  I’m going to make mistakes.  I will always try to learn from them, but they’re going to happen.  If you could do me the grace of understanding, I promise, I’ll try to do the same if you ever mess up.” 

He took a deep breath and drew himself up to his full height again, drawing in Captain America around himself like a protective blanket.  “And with that, I’ll leave you to it.  I’m exhausted and I need a drink.”  Not that it would do anything for him, but sometimes the ritual helped.

"You want to talk about who's being childish?" The inventor said as his arms were crossed defiantly over his chest, a cocky smirk plays on his face as he stares down the super soldier with all the bravado of his usual presence. "Insulting me certainly is a childish move, Rogers. How about you start acting your age and stop hiding behind personal attacks? While you're at it could you stop acting like you're not in the wrong here? Maybe if you didn't have this holier-than-thou attitude all the time then we would actually be getting somewhere with this, and you say I'm the egotistical one."

Letting out a deep exhale does the mechanic bow his head down as emotional exhaustion overtakes him, taking a second to think before deciding to speak up once more in hopes to get through to the other. "I will accept your apology and I will work with you if, and only if, you start treating me like an equal." No more lies or secrets, and certainly none of Rogers treating him as if he were just some spoiled child. They were supposed to be a team, and if the Captain was going to constantly look down on him then there was no way in hell Tony would stand for that. "Stop telling me what I think I'm angry about, it's belittling when you talk like that."

There is a new wave of calm that Tony settles into, an understanding that Steve is clearly shaken by the conversation and the last thing the Iron Avenger wants is for the old man to resent him. Toast Masters lessons his dad got him were finally going to come in handy, Rogers wasn't going to peacefully discuss it with him if the soldier stormed off in a huff. "I know HYDRA has the scepter, I meant when we do get it that I plan on dismantling their entire organization so they can't regroup. We both want the same thing here, I don't want to fight with you anymore. This is me offering an olive branch here, okay? Can you meet me half way?"

[livfastdieyoung69]

OH OH YK WHAT I NEED BAD? KO SIBLING X CODY OOOOO I NEED IT I NEEDDDD IT

NEW BEGINNINGS

(Cody Rhodes x Non-described!Owens!Reader, can be read as adopted or not)

Anger issues and complaining runned in the Owen’s family. It was what your family did, most of you on the side, but your brother, he did it for his literal career. Like seriously, Kevin just complained for a living- he got on a microphone and yelled. As jealous as you were, it wasn’t your gimmick unfortunately. The two of you grew up side by side, falling in love with wrestling together, and eventually even growing in the business together. Though you had pretty similar styles, Kevin loved being in the WWE and everything he stood for there, and you loved being in TNA, and all of the accomplishments you’ve made in the company.

Though you were on separate paths, whenever they happened to cross, you’d sit down and have lunch, or dinner, or whatever else you could manage and do what Owens’ did best- complain together.

“How’s working with all of the Bloodline guys, still?” You ask after taking a gulp from your soda. Before you can even finish, he’s rolling his eyes and groaning with a mouthful of cheeseburger.

“Still fucking terrible. There’s more of them! Like an endless amount, they just keep popping up out of nowhere, and the more that come, the crazier they fucking get,” His exasperated sound makes you laugh. “I’m serious!”

You shake your head while he takes another massive bite out of his burger.

“Who’d you just work with? Uh, what’s his name? That woo woo woo guy? Zak Ryder!” You nod, taking a bite of your own food after muttering the ‘You Know It’ part of the catchphrase.

“He’s Matt Cardona now- that’s his actual name. He’s a nice guy…a lot, but nice. Like so much, really, all smiles and enthusiasm all the time. When Chelsea won the title, he brought a replica the next day and everyone thought it was the real one.”

This was how it usually went- catch up through each others feuds and how annoying everyone else was, and eventually the chatter would die down and you’d eat for a little, and then someone would pick up an actual conversation. The only problem here though, was there was one more feud of Kevins you were trying to avoid, but it was kind of hard. He was a massive deal in the company and a massive part of Kevins life right now.

“I know what you’re doing.” Kevin states causally, leaning back in his chair after starting on his fries.

“What?” You try to laugh it off, but you don’t look up from your own plate.

“Cody. You don’t wanna ask me about him.”

“….I just figured you’d want to keep your mind off it with the match at the Royal Rumble coming up.” You try, but he shakes his head. That was still in a couple weeks.

“Dude. I know you’re a fan- you literally still have the shirt from when he did the Dashing thing years ago. You liked Stardust, you know who else liked Stardust? No one.“

“Okay, I get it, you don’t have to publicly shame me about it. You can complain about everyone else, that’s my exception.” The two of you are quick to go back to silence while you try to finish your meal, and he chugs down another soda. The man ate ridiculously fast, nothing could stop him.

“You know,” He broke the quiet again. “You would really like WWE. Paul keeps bugging me about talking to you.”

“So you’ve told me,” You shrug. “I don’t know. TNA’s my home at this point, I can’t imagine leaving.” A laugh rips through you at a sudden thought and he nods his head for you to continue. “Maybe, maybe if you got Cody to ask-“ His eyes close with a sigh, and he immediately starts shaking his head, which only makes you laugh harder.

“Don’t push it.”

That had been about a week ago. You’d both gone back to your regularly scheduled program, him on Fridays and you on Thursdays. His feud with Cody continued, with a whole bunch of shit happening over there, and you moved on to work with other TNA superstars. After another long Thursday night you’re ready to conk out from the very fun, but tiring, on top of the night of wrestling, celebration with Joe Hendry for his new, recent title win (you’d already given your condolences to Nic).

As soon as your head hits the pillow, your phone rings. And you know it’s Kevin because you had set his theme song for his ringtone.

“What’s wrong?” You answer on the first ring. It’s late, and this is unusual, the first thing your mind goes to is that something happened.

“Did you see the news?”

“What fucking news Kevin, you’re freaking me out-“

“WWE and TNA signed a contract, anyone can go anywhere,” He rushes out, your name following it. “Anyone can go anywhere.”

You aren’t even sure what to say, and the phone line goes quiet while you stammer before Kevin interrupts.

“I gave Paul your number- he wants you in the Rumble.”

And now, here you were. This was fucking crazy! Of the entire TNA roster, you, Joe Hendry, and Jordynne Grace had been picked to join the Royal Rumble. Everything was so different here, you could see why Kevin liked it. Everything reminded you of him, and to be able to see him this much was so great. You traveled together, for the first time since your teenage years, and with all of the excitement you felt that young again too.

The Guerrilla was packed. It was great to see people you had worked with in the past, like Naomi and AJ Styles, but it was also great to meet new faces. Maxxine Dupri was the nicest person you had ever met, and so pretty. And you finally got to meet Chelsea! She wanted to keep in touch in case Matt tried to take her actual belt next time, apparently she hadn’t known he bought the replica.

Right now, the women’s rumble was seconds from kicking everything off so it was mostly women in the area, but a couple guys were wandering around too. Joe Hendry had stayed near you, which both of you were thankful for, he was actually a pretty shy guy behind cameras and you hated being alone around so many people. Jordynne and Naomi were a lot more acquainted than you were with her, so they snuck off to the side to have a chat.

The match was quick to begin with Iyo Sky and Liv Morgan before others started to quickly fill in. Your number was later on, you’d gotten 22. You didn’t want to be so late, and had tried to fight Paul about it but he was adamant the crowd would be excited, plus you had enough spots behind you to stay in for a while. The crowd started to wear out in Geurilla, and eventually you found yourself in the small room everything led to, with about ten other entrants, Maxxine had just went through the curtain at number 14.

��So,” Kevin strolls up from behind you with a bowl of something from catering. “I don’t want to hear a single word of this. But I called in a favor.” Your eyebrows furrow as you turn to him, and he holds up a hand. “Not a word.” And then he walks out. What the fuck?

You don’t have time to think about that anyways, now you’re wishing Jordynne (number 19) good luck as the buzzer rushes. After her, is the great return of Alexa Bliss, who is granted the biggest pop so far, which Zelina Vega follows, and then all that’s left in front of you is the grey curtain covering the biggest opportunity you’ve received in your life.

That was both the longest and shortest minute and a half of your entire life, but when the crowd counts down, and the buzzer rings out, and your music starts playing, you’ve never heard anything louder. You fight to your last breath, and then you keep fighting. You make it pass Nia Jax’s mass elimination, and lots of other attempts, and somehow, its just you and Charlotte Flair. You give it your best, but the nerves get the best of you, and Charlotte ends up throwing you over the rope.

As disappointed as you are, you made it farther than you could’ve dreamed of, and as the fans yell for your attention while you walk back up the ramp, you can’t help but be proud. You walk through the curtain to find your fellow (past, and present) TNA stars cheering you on, and you’re too busy taking the praise with embarrassment and a shy gaze to the ground, that you don’t notice Kevins favor until you’re snapping a picture with HHH for media.

In all of his glory, standing directly across from you all the way across the room, is Cody Rhodes. Clapping. And staring at you, with that one smile. Y’know, the one, the Dashing Cody Rhodes shit eating grin.

“Oh my God, Kevin,” You mutter under your breath when the pictures are over and you can turn away. “What the fuck. Kevin. What the fuck.” Kevin is no where in sight, and Paul is laughing at you so hard.

“Heard you’re a pretty big fan,” You can hear him approaching from behind you and there’s nothing else you can do but face him and hope not to embarrass yourself any further.

“I’d say I’m an avid watcher, if that’s what you’d like to consider me, yes.” He’s still grinning at you like that, and it’s making this so much harder. The rest of the room is funneling out.

“Oh, okay, okay. Just a big Stardust fan, then?” Your lips purse into a fine line when you find you have no explanation.

“How much did he tell you, exactly?” God, you’re never coming back to this company ever again. Only to get back at Kevin for this. He shrugs.

“I’m just teasing, don’t worry,” His grin relaxed, and suddenly he looks more like the American Nightmare Cody, and his hand is resting on your shoulder. “I’m a pretty big fan, too. You were great out there.”

“Oh, I tried my best, thanks,” Your face is heating up again, and you try to push it off.

“Really, you were great. I hope I get to see you around some more.” You still can’t find any words, and the room seems to be getting hotter by the second. “Or, out of it either. Not to be this straight forward, and feel free to tell me to back off, but if you’re around tomorrow, I’d love to take you to dinner or something.”

“Uhm, uh-“ I’m between your sputtering you find yourself laughing. “You’re about to go fight to the death with my brother.” He laughs, looking down at his ring gear, and nods his head, because yes, he’s going to go beat the shit out of your brother.

“I’m guessing that’s a back off?” He looks back up through his eyelashes with the grin that makes you melt.

“No, no, please, bring him to hell and back.” You grin back, before nodding shyly. “Dinner would be great.” Before you have the chance to keep talking, Pauls calling him over, and he gives you an apologetic look and tells you somehow, he’ll get ahold of you before he rushes over to HHH. Kevin comes in shortly after, and laughs at you with no clue that his worst enemy thinks your fine as hell, and that you’re going to go chase Jey Uso down for his phone number. You sit in the Guerrilla for just a second longer and watch them both disappear behind the curtain before you run off to take a shower, and text everybody you’ve ever known that Cody Fucking Rhodes just asked you out.

Maybe you would be coming back to WWE a couple more times.

Wow look at me goooo it feels like its been so long since i wrote for Cody (prolly cuz it has been)

I’m hungry, sick, and tired but I’m ignoring all of my problems and sat down during raw and couldn’t stop so here you go ig

Enjoy this you probably wont get much more from me this month but im gonna try my best i think the seasonal depression hit me mostly last month but its supposed to snow on Wednesday so that’s when we’ll really see

[mommyownsmee]

Mommy I've been scrolling through your blog so long and now I'm so wet and needy.....my legs are spread open the whole time and I feel how much I'm leaking...I so badly want you to touch me, fuck me like I'm just a lil toy.

Fuck I want it so bad....mommy can I touch myself? Can you tell me how? Please...I'm ready to beg

[Here‘s a lil something I came up with while reading your message <3 I hope you like it!]

The dim glow of your laptop screen was the only source of light in the room, casting soft, flickering shadows against the walls. The air was still, heavy, thick with something unspoken—something desperate. The only sound was the subtle hum of your own breathing, uneven and strained as your fingers ghosted over the trackpad.

You had been scrolling through my blog for what felt like hours, your eyes devouring every word, every command, every lingering tease meant to sink deep into your mind and take root. Each carefully chosen sentence settled inside you like a spark, igniting something restless, something raw. Your thighs had fallen open long ago, your body responding instinctively to the overwhelming need coiling low in your stomach.

You were soaked.

You could feel it—the slick heat between your legs, the way your skin prickled with anticipation. Every muscle in your body was drawn tight, wound up so painfully that you were barely breathing. You weren’t even sure when the ache had become unbearable, but now? Now it was impossible to ignore.

But you knew better than to act without permission.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, your mind slipping further into submission with each passing second. You had been trained well. Conditioned to wait. To ask. To beg if necessary.

And you were so, so close to breaking.

The anon you sent me was hurried, needy, bordering on pathetic—but that was exactly what I wanted from you, wasn’t it?

Mommy, I’ve been scrolling through your blog for so long, and now I’m so wet and needy… my legs are spread open the whole time, and I feel how much I’m leaking. I so badly want you to touch me, to use me like I’m just a little toy. Please… Can I touch myself? Can you tell me how? I’m ready to beg.

You hit send, your breath catching in your throat. The waiting was excruciating. Every second that passed without a response felt like another layer of torment, your body clenching with the effort of holding still.

The need to move was overwhelming. To press your thighs together, to dip your fingers between them, to relieve even the smallest fraction of the ache—but you wouldn’t. You couldn’t.

Because good girls waited.

When the notification lit up your screen, your pulse skyrocketed. You swallowed hard, opening my answer with trembling fingers.

Good girls don’t touch without permission. And you’re a good girl, aren’t you? Tell me how much you need it. Show me you deserve it.

A whimper slipped from your lips before you could stop it. Your thighs twitched, but you forced yourself to stay still. The words on the screen felt like a hand around your throat, like soft lips against your ear, whispering things that made your skin burn.

Your fingers shook as you typed the next anon, the pressure inside you growing unbearable.

Mommy, please, I need it so bad. I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m aching. I want to be good for you. I want to do exactly what you say. I’ll do anything. Please, tell me what to do.

My response was almost immediate.

I want you to feel everything. One hand between your thighs, but don’t rush. Just tease. Make yourself wait. Let the desperation sink in. Show me how much you can take.

Your body shook. My words slowly sank deep, curling around your spine, making your skin burn hotter. The idea of holding back, of teetering right on the edge and not giving in—it made the ache sharper, more unbearable.

A shudder wracked through you as you obeyed, your hand sliding between your thighs, the heat radiating against your fingertips. You whimpered softly as you traced slow, lazy circles over yourself—barely applying any pressure, just the lightest touch, exactly as instructed.

It was torture.

You could already feel how soaked you were, how easily your fingers slipped against slick, sensitive skin, but it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. Every instinct screamed at you to press harder, to move faster, to take what you so desperately craved—but you couldn’t. Not until I let you.

Your hips bucked involuntarily, your body betraying you, searching for friction that you weren’t allowed to have. You whined, the sound soft, pleading, but there was no mercy coming. Just the steady rhythm of your own touch, teasing, taunting, denying you the relief you needed.

You bit your lip, trying to focus, trying to keep your movements slow, careful, teasing. You didn’t want to disappoint me. You wanted to be good. But it was so hard. You decided to send me another anon.

Mommy, please, I need to cum. I can’t hold it back. I’ve been so good. Please, please, let me. I’ll do anything. I need it so bad. I want to be good for you, please let me come.

You didn‘t have to wait long for my answer.

Beg.

The single word wrecked you. A desperate, choked sound left your throat, your free hand fisting into the sheets as you forced yourself to obey.

The silence that followed your begging was unbearable. Every second that passed felt stretched too thin, your body teetering on the edge of desperation. Your fingers trembled where they rested against your slick skin, waiting, waiting—because you wouldn’t let yourself break the rules. You wouldn’t come until I said so.

Then, finally, the screen lit up and your breath caught in your throat.

Good girl. You can come for me now. But I want to hear it. Let me feel how much you need this. Don’t hold back. Ride it out for me. Let me see how far you can fall apart.

Your mind barely processed the words before your body obeyed. Your entire body shook with relief. A wrecked whimper slipped past your lips, your thighs tensing, your fingers pressing down harder now, finally able to move the way you needed—the way I wanted you to.

A sharp, shattered cry ripped from your throat as your body seized, your muscles locking up as the pleasure crashed over you like a tidal wave. It was overwhelming—too much—your back arching, your free hand grasping helplessly at the sheets, at anything to ground yourself. The waves of pleasure rolled through you mercilessly, dragging you under, making you tremble and sob from the intensity of it.

But your fingers didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Even as the sensitivity became unbearable, even as your breath stuttered and your thighs twitched, you pushed through. You worked yourself through the aftershocks, milking the pleasure for every last drop, just like I wanted.

You whimpered, gasping as your legs shook violently, tears slipping down your flushed cheeks. The pleasure didn’t fade—it lingered, dragging out, stretching beyond your limits, making you feel used, ruined, completely spent…

[starwberryshenanigans]

Let Me Choose You

some context: canon divergents where Callum doesn't forgive Rayla right away so she gives up and decides to leave again once Aaravos is dealt with. also rayla wears gloves to cover up her wounds from those two years

“You're leaving?!” Callum burst into Rayla’s tent in frustration. “What am I still just an inconvenience?! Am I just another liability?!”

All he can see is the back of her as she stays still. “Oh okay now you don’t want to talk” he says annoyed.

He waits for her to say something. Anything. To be able to understand why this was happening again. “Rayla please, say something! Give me an explanation. Give me a reason! You can’t just leave me here again to wonder what I did to make you go. What I did wrong to make you leave again!”

“I…” She starts to speak but suddenly goes quiet.

“What?! What is it?! What did I do?! Am I still not as strong as you?! Am I not strong enough?! Am I still too weak?!”

“YOU WERE NEVER WEAK!” she turned to him, sobbing. “I WAS WEAK. I WAS ALWAYS WEAK. I-” she pauses to try to hold back a sob. “I’m still weak.”

She hugs herself, squeezing tight. “I was too weak to let you be there for me, so I left. I was too weak to grow, so I survived.”

She paused and took a shuddered breath. “And I was too weak to stay away, so I came back.”

Callum grasped for words but could find none. She had come back as if nothing had happened. As if things would pick up how they had been when she left. He had thought she had not cared how she had hurt him. Now he knew she was just trying to act like she was fine.

“I hurt you when I left and I hurt when I came back. The one strong thing I can do is to leave you be. Let you live your life without me being here as a reminder of that pain I caused.”

“Rayla, no-” he tried to talk, but she cut him off.

“Do you see yourself? Do you see how much you have grown? How much have you changed? You're thriving. You learn so many more spells, you’ve read so many more books, You’ve lived. I thought maybe when I saw you again we… but I haven’t changed. I haven’t grown. I haven’t lived. I spent all that time surviving and searching just to end up with nothing. I threw it all away. My friends, my family...you. I made the choice but didn’t give you one. I wish I gave you a choice. I’m sorry Callum.”

He took a second, processing all she had kept to herself. Grateful for an apology yet worried for her.

“Rayla” he reached for her hands and paused when he felt how rough they were. He looked down, concerned when he saw the scars, the bruises, and the burns. “Are you okay?”

She snatched her hands back in fear and quickly started searching for her gloves without saying a word.

“Rayla?” he said more worried

“I’m fine” she responded firmly, moving across the room still searching.

“What happened?!” he asked in a panic

“It’s nothing!” she responded equally as panicked as she couldn’t find the gloves.

“No it’s not! You're hurt!” he responded getting more and more concerned.

“It’s fine, I’m fine!” She said, knocking over her bag and spilling the bandages on the floor.

“No, you're not!” trying to get her to see that.

“Yes, I am!” she yelled back, matching his tone. She stopped as she found the leather gloves that had fallen next to her old bandages. She put them on and showed Callum. “See, it’s fine.” She said defiantly. “My hands are fine, I’m fine everythings fine!” She said annoyed, ready to walk away until she felt him gently hold her hand, pleading her to stay.

“Rayla, please!” Callum begged. “You can’t just keep this to yourself. You can’t just pretend that nothing is wrong. You have to talk to someone. Talk to me!” She turned to him, but didn’t look him in the eyes.

“Sometimes things happen. Fires, fights, thorns. And sometimes you can’t escape them, sometimes they catch you at your weakest. Sometimes the fires burn, sometimes the thorns prick, and sometimes” she paused remembering that final fight back at the Scumport, and remembering that red scarf that had thrown her off, making her lose the final “you lose the fights.” She looked up at him and saw him look back at her, worry and guilt in his eyes. “It’s part of surviving. Part of making mistakes. Part of weaknesses.”

She really was surviving. Not being able to grow or live simply because she was just trying to find the means to make it to the next day. She was by herself, dealing with issues no one should have to face alone. He should have been there. He should have helped her.

“I wish-”

“No.” Rayla quickly cut him off. “This isn’t your fault. You couldn’t have done anything because I didn’t give you the choice. Don’t blame yourself for this.”

He knew this of course, but still wanted to be there for her. He held her hands again, worried if she had been dealing with the pain of the burns and cuts even now. “Does it still hurt?” he asked, concerned.

“Not really,” she said casually. “I mean sometimes the blisters bleed a little if I can’t let them heal properly” she added once she saw Callum’s look of suspicion.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Callum asked worriedly.

“You all have enough to worry about with Aaravos, I can handle a little pain” She said badly faking confidence in her voice.

“But you shouldn't,” Callum said firmly.

“It’s fine, Callum,” she said, annoyed. “I’m fine, I can be strong.”

“Why is that so important to you?!” he asked frustrated “Why do you care so much if you're strong or not?!” “

Because of this!” She ripped the glove off showing him her hand. “If you're not strong, you get hurt, and if you get hurt it leaves marks! Not just on your hands either! You see this?!” She pointed to a healing slit just above her left eye. “ A group of humans that weren’t so keen on a moonshadow elf sleeping by their village.” “Or this!” pointing to a noticeably large chip in her horn. “Fight with a banther after I picked the wrong cave to hide from the rain in!” “You have to be strong to survive out there by yourself!”

“If you hate it so much then why do you have to leave?! Why do you have to put yourself through that alone?!” He asked, confused. “What else is there?! I’m ghosted from my home, my parents are gone, and because of me I lost you!”

“You didn’t lose me!” he yelled. “You think you have to be strong, that you’ve think you’ve been weak this entire time but you’re still the strongest person I know! Rayla you fought and banther and survived. Do you realize how strong that is?! You’ve always been strong, with no break. So stop it! Stop being strong. Stop dealing with everything by yourself and let yourself be weak for once. You say you wish you would have let me have a choice but you're not now. Let me choose! Let me choose to take care of you. Let me choose to forgive you. Let me choose you.” He reached for her hands again, kissing the palm of her exposed, then taking off the glove of her other hand to kiss it too. “All of you.”

my first fic w over 1000 words?! guys is this improvement?? ngl i lowkey like this one the least out of mine cuz it lowkey seems cringey to me but its like that everytime i write so hopefully its actually decent also ive never written callum this mad and rayla this mentally not good so it lowkey reminds me of this meme

as always u can find my other (and better) fics here and on my ao3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62711884

[clarisse0o]

The Mayor - Chapter 28

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe: Mayor and Architect

Words: 1300

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Alessia sat back down, looking at me in astonishment.

"You can’t what?"

I took a deep breath.

"Sign those papers, buy that house..."

There it was, I had said it. Abruptly. Words scrambled in my head as I tried to figure out how to explain it without hurting her. Mission impossible. She furrowed her brows and took my hand in hers.

"Listen, Ona, I get it. It’s scary to make a big leap like this. But we’ve talked about it already. We’re ready—we know it."

She was trying to reassure me, but her eyes betrayed a growing concern. "We know it?" she repeated when I stayed silent. 

What could I say? That no, I wasn’t sure anymore? That I didn’t know if I wanted this house, this future? That I didn’t know anything anymore? I owed her the truth.

"I had an affair, Alessia."

The words fell like a bombshell. She let go of my hand, her jaw tightened, and she drew in a deep breath.

"Okay. We weren’t together then. You didn’t owe me anything. I’m not saying it’s easy to hear, but it doesn’t change anything."

I lowered my eyes, unable to respond. She continued:

"Did it stop when we got back together, Ona?"

I looked up at her, my mouth dry.

"Ona? Damn it, answer me!" Her voice was sharp.

"I saw her again. Once."

She was stunned, visibly shaken. Biting her lower lip, she pressed on:

"Who was it? When?"

"You don’t know her. Someone I met at the gym."

I couldn’t tell her about Lucy—it was impossible.

"How original! Jesus, how could you do this to me? While we were talking about this house, about our future? You’re nothing but a liar."

She said this without yelling, like small knives slicing through my heart. In her eyes, I could see anger—and worse, disappointment.

"I don’t know, Alessia. I’m so, so sorry..."

"Do you love her? Are you going to be with her?"

"No… no. We’ll never be a couple, it’s just…"

"Just what?"

"I don’t know! I couldn’t go sign those papers without telling you. I feel so guilty, Alessia. I owed you the truth..."

She glared at me, her gaze piercing.

"The truth? Five minutes before the notary! Do you want me to thank you? You’re kidding me, right? So what now? What do we do?"

I could barely meet her gaze, dark and filled with sadness at my betrayal.

"I don’t know. It’s up to you—if you can forgive me..."

"Oh, that’s rich. You see, Ona, you’re weak. You have no courage. You’re waiting for  me  to make the decision for you, for  me  to leave you so you can ease your little conscience and run off to this woman. There’s no way I’m making plans, buying something so significant, with someone as spineless as you. I’m so disappointed—I can’t believe this..."

Her eyes were now filled with tears. The situation was unbearable, and I was at a loss for words. It’s so hard to see someone so important to you in such pain because of you.

"Alessia. I love you, I’m sorry, I don’t know where I stand, and I..."

"Shut up, Ona. Just shut up!" she shouted, freezing me to the core. She had never spoken to me like that. It felt like a slap. 

A slap that came, physically, just moments later as she stood up to leave. I didn’t follow her, holding my stinging cheek in shock. I was left there, staring at the empty chair, aware that everyone around was now looking at me.

I didn’t go to work that afternoon, sending Alexia a short text. I wandered around downtown, ending up in a park. I had destroyed my relationship with Alessia. My head ached, my body ached, my heart ached. I didn’t regret telling her the truth—it was a relief to have done so. The hardest part was knowing I had hurt the person I had shared everything with for five years.

I wanted to talk, to confide in someone. But who? No one knew about me and Lucy, not even Alexia. I absentmindedly scrolled through my phone contacts until I landed on Lucy’s name. Lucy. I needed to see her, to talk. Without thinking, I dialed her number.

"Hello?"

I didn’t answer immediately. Why had I called her? What could I say? I began to regret this impulsive decision.

"Hello? Hello?"

I was about to hang up.

"Ona, I know it’s you. Should I pop the champagne for the house?" she asked, her voice laced with irony.

I still didn’t speak.

"Ona, are you okay? Where are you?"

"In the city center."

Was it the tone of my voice that worried her? She immediately offered:

"I have a meeting in half an hour. Can you drop by?"

"Yes, I’m on my way."

I hung up and headed to the town hall.

She greeted me with a big smile, which quickly turned into a concerned frown as she studied my face and reddened eyes.

"Ona, are you okay?"

"Not really. Please don’t ask me questions."

I wanted to talk but didn’t have the strength. I was drained, empty, exhausted. She didn’t press me, instead leading me to the sofa in her office. She poured me a glass of wine from a mini-bar hidden behind her desk.

"Don’t think I’m an alcoholic, but you need some courage to deal with certain officials!"

For the first time that afternoon, I smiled. She sat beside me, hesitant about how close to sit. I craved human warmth, her touch. Not passionate embraces—I didn’t have the heart for that. Just contact. I rested my head on her shoulder, and she wrapped her arm around me. She talked about her day, trying to make me laugh with juicy anecdotes about local mayors.

I listened, speaking little. Suddenly, I interrupted her.

"She slapped me..."

A silence fell. She held me a little tighter.

"...I told her I cheated on her..."

She tensed.

"You told her about us?"

"No! Just that I cheated with someone she doesn’t know. If that’s all you care about," I replied, a bit vexed by her reaction.

"That’s not all I care about," she said softly, kissing my forehead.

"Do you think I’m a bad person?"

She lifted my chin, looking me straight in the eyes. A voice from behind the door interrupted us.

"Madame Bronze, they’re here!"

"Yes, yes, I’m coming!"

She loosened her embrace and stood.

"I’ll go to this meeting, and then we’ll grab dinner, okay? Stay here and rest."

Before closing the door, she turned back.

"You can help yourself to my secret bar, but don’t drink all my wine, okay?"

It was Lucy’s hand on my cheek that woke me an hour later. We went to dinner, talking about everything except Alessia. My heart was still heavy, my appetite non-existent. She asked just one question about it: "And the house?" There was no house anymore.

She walked me to my car in the dark night.

"I can’t stay with you tonight, Ona. The twins are home, Paul’s not there, and I have to take them somewhere in the morning, and..."

"I’m not asking you to," I said, though I wanted to. Just to sleep, in her arms, nothing more.

"You always know how to make me feel special," she teased with a hint of irony, smiling.

She glanced around to ensure we were alone. Then, she leaned in and kissed me briefly but warmly. It was short, yet it warmed my whole body. She must have sensed it was too soon, that my heart wasn’t ready.

I drove home, feeling slightly lighter but filled with uncertainty. Before falling asleep, I received a message from Lucy:

 To answer your question, I think you’re a very beautiful person.

[malachitezmeyka]

I made it till just after midnight on January 5th without crying. Idk if that’s an accomplishment or a failure

[platypusisnotonfire]

I aspire to be a Himbo but my physics degree and weasel physique have cursed me to a very different categorization

[unfinishedslurs]

do u love the colors of the comphet

When it’s over, when Henry Creel is dead and dust and they’ve emerged battered and triumphant. When she and Jonathan have ended things. When there is no more fighting to be done, she and Steve give it another go. 

She knows he’s going to ask the same way she knew in ‘83. There’s no waiting this time, no need to wonder if Jonathan might want her too. They gave it the old college try (He lied to her. He was lying to her for months, and she knew something was wrong before that. She thought they could work it out. She’s so fucking sick of lying to herself being lied to). 

He asks with wide, hopeful eyes, running a nervous hand through his hair. He doesn’t have anything to be nervous about. She made up her mind before he even asked. 

She can do it right this time. She can love this boy the way she wants to. The way he wants her to. They’ve both grown in the years since. She’s going to do this right. 

That’s the mantra she keeps in her head when he picks her up and spins her. I can do this. 

She can’t do this. 

It’s somehow the same and different from when they dated the first time. They’re going through the same motions, but there’s something lacking. They’re both older, more jaded. They’re not kids anymore, and it shows. 

They rarely kiss. He hesitates now in a way he didn’t before. Sex is something they don’t bring up at all. Eddie makes a crude joke once, something or other about what Nancy is like in bed, and she and Steve make eye contact. There’s something there, something like mutual understanding, before Robin smacks Eddie upside the back of the head and the moment breaks. She keeps thinking about it long after. Whatever it is that they shared, they don’t talk about it. 

Maybe they’re lying to themselves, both of them. Puppets going through the motions, too stubborn to admit they’re play acting as real people. Still, she can’t give this up. She can’t make the same mistakes all over again. 

Robin corners her two months into the relationship. Part of Nancy is surprised it took her this long. The rest of her is angry she brings it up at all. 

Saying she’s cornered might be doing her a disservice. They’re having a sleepover, painting their nails and talking about boys. Everything a girl is supposed to do. Except Robin is awkward and fumbling, and every name she brings up sounds like a question. Nancy only has Steve to talk about, and barely talks about him at all. 

Finally Robin sighs and puts down the nail polish. “I feel like this subject is making us both miserable,” she declares. “I don’t want to talk about boys, I was just doing it because I thought that’s what you’re supposed to do at girl sleepovers. I haven’t actually been to a sleepover since I was in middle school and the other girls decided I was weird, but I’m pretty sure the point is to have fun. This is not fun. This is agonizing. We should talk about something else.”

“Steve isn’t making me miserable!” She snaps, before realizing she sounds way too defensive. 

Robin peers at her. “Yeah, see, that’s not what I said. That’s not even a little bit close to what I said. Maybe we should talk about this instead. What’s the deal with you and Steve?”

“What deal? There’s no deal.” She turns around and rummages through the nail polish selection. Robin doesn’t exactly have a variety. Her options are red, dark red, and black. She chooses the brighter red with the absent thought that the black would look good on Robin, with her long fingers and dark eyeliner. Then she banishes that thought away. 

“There’s definitely some kind of deal.”

“There isn’t.”

“Nance.” 

She can’t help but turn around then, drawn in by the tone of her voice. There’s a glass wall inside of her, and someone is pounding on it, trying to get out. She wants Robin to see it. She wants someone to see behind the glass. There’s something in her trying to get out. 

“Nancy,” she says again, eyes searing into her soul, “are you happy?”

She smiles, fake and fixed on her face. The glass stays firmly in place.  “Of course I am,” she replies. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

The next time Robin wants to hang out, she’s busy with college preparations. 

It’s not just Robin. She thinks everyone can tell something’s wrong with her. Eddie gives her these looks every time she and Steve are in front of him, like he’s putting together a puzzle. Her mom keeps trying to talk to her. Jonathan keeps trying to talk to her. 

They know, she thinks wildly, every time. She doesn’t know what it is they know. She doesn’t want to find out. 

She avoids them all. 

When she and Steve go to dinner, the waitress captivates her. 

Long, dark hair in braids. Long fingers tapping against the notepad. Dark eyes in a dark face. She’s always loved brown eyes. Nancy has never been one to be jealous of other girls (lie, lie, lie), but suddenly heat floods her body. She wants to be as gorgeous as this woman. She wants her full lips, popping gum. She wants the woman’s swaying hips as she turns and leaves their table. She wants— she wants—

She tears her gaze away to find Steve already looking at her. 

The heat is dosed by the ice that fills her veins. All her senses go on high alert until she realizes he’s actually staring past her. She turns around to see the bartender. He’s handsome, she thinks, tall with tan skin and brown hair carefully styled. He’s talking to a customer, teeth shining as he laughs. 

When she turns back, Steve has firmly fixed his eyes on her. She could almost believe he’d never been staring at the bartender at all. 

There’s something there. Something just out of reach, something she could put a finger out and touch if she were braver. She doesn’t. There’s no gun in her hand here, no adrenaline to keep her going after it all falls apart. 

“What did your dumb boyfriend do this time?” Mike demands, storming in her room. Nancy has half a mind to yell at him to knock first before she registers his words. 

“Steve is- Steve is fine,” she says, startled. “He’s great, actually. Nothings wrong.“

“Then why are you so miserable all the time?” Mike accuses. 

“I am not miserable!”

“You are! You both are, and neither of you will tell anyone what’s wrong, or why-“

“I don’t know why!” She shrieks. Mike falls silent, eyes wide, and Nancy suddenly realizes she’s crying. 

“I don’t know why,” she repeats. “Everything is fine. He’s like, the perfect fucking boyfriend. It’s me, I’m the problem. There’s something wrong with me. There’s a beautiful boy who loves me, and I’m- I’m trying. I’m trying so hard to love him back, but I can’t. I can’t. There’s something wrong with me.” She’s desperate now, wiping away tears as she curls into a ball. She feels pathetic, crying in front of her little brother. She’s the oldest, she should be keeping it together, she shouldn’t let him see her like this. But she can’t help it. There’s something in her screaming to get out. 

Mike, with all the grace and bewilderment of a newborn deer, gingerly pats her shoulder. 

“Have you…talked to Steve about it?”

She gives him a cutting look. It’s probably not as effective as she wants it to be, with her red eyes and tear streaked face. Mike holds his hands up. 

“I’m just saying! He’s your boyfriend, you should talk to him. And if you don’t want him to be your boyfriend, you should really talk to him.”

“I want him to be my boyfriend, I just need to get past whatever this is—“

“Nancy,” Mike says. “It’s not just you. He’s miserable too.”

“Because of me. I just need to—“

Mike shakes his head. “I don’t think it is. If it were because of you, he’d be acting different. More…kicked puppy, or whatever. He’s just being weird,  and won’t tell anyone why. Dustin said he asked Robin, and she doesn’t even know.”

Nancy doesn’t have anything to say to that. 

“I think you need to talk to him,” he says again. “I think you need to talk to each other.”

“When did you get so smart?” She asks, instead of crying again. 

“I’ve always been smarter than you.”

She kicks him for that blatant lie.

“Are we holding onto a dead thing?” She asks out loud. 

He rolls over and looks at her. She’s worried she’s hurt his feelings, broken his heart again, killed any chance they have at a relationship, romantic or not. Then he snorts. 

“Robin got to you too, huh?” He asks, flopping back onto his back to look up at the sky. 

“Mike, actually.”

“Mike? That shithead? What does he know about relationship problems?”

“Are we having relationship problems?”

“I mean,” he says, wry twist to his mouth, “we haven’t had any arguments.”

“Nope.”

“Or general drama.”

“That might be debatable.”

“There’s no need to spice up our sex life.”

She snacks him for that one, and he laughs. She props herself up to look him in the eye. His face is more open than she’s seen it the entire time they’ve been dating. 

“I think you have to be in a relationship to have ‘relationship problems,’” she tells him. “Are we in a relationship?”

He visibly considers this. “I mean, I asked you out, and you said yes. And we never broke up.”

“We haven’t kissed in at least two weeks.”

“Did you want to?”

She takes a moment to think about it. “Not really,” she admits, and his face splits into a grin. 

“Not that you’re not still wonderful, Nancy Wheeler,” he says, teeth shining, “but I don’t think I want to kiss you either. Isn’t that weird?”

When they dated in high school, it was like he couldn’t stand being away from her. He spent every moment he could kissing her, wherever he could. Sometimes it felt almost like a performance he put on for the people around them, lifting her up and spinning her just so everyone would know how in love they were. It was stifling at times, feeling like something to prove. Still, it was how he was, so in love he could burst with it. 

Now, she wonders if it was always a performance. Maybe they’ve both been on a stage, and neither of them noticed the lights blinding them until now. 

“It is a little weird,” she says finally.

“Right?!”

He holds out a hand to shake, the other one firmly in his pocket. God, she wishes she could love him. “Good go, eh Wheeler?” He asks, smile crooked and shaky. 

She snorts. “We made ourselves and everyone around us miserable,” she points out. But she takes his hand. 

[story-book-sillies]

Grieving over someone who isn’t gone is such a complicated feeling. Especially when they are your best friend. Especially when they want to leave you.

I still can interact with them today. I can see them with my own eyes, hear their voice with my ears, understand their deepest dreams because we just know each other.

But soon, I won’t be able to see them in person, the only way I can hear their voice will be through a phone, and now someone else will learn to understand them better than me. I will slowly be forgotten as someone else becomes their remembered.

And it hurts. But it happens. And I knew it was coming but I didn’t want it to happen so fast. It’s like when you know something is going to bite you but it hasn’t happened yet. You anticipate the pain so it’s like the pain is already there.

They’re still here but they’re already gone. They’re not gone forever just gone for now. You’re still a kid. They’re all grown up and they’re leaving you. It hurts.

[pokewatcher20]

Guess who just beat Detective Pikachu 2 🎉

[harmonizewithechoes]

There is a PUPPY!

Inside my HOUSE!!

We’re thinking about ADOPTING said puppy!!

We’re just doing a home visit to make sure we’re a good fit for what she needs because if she’s uncomfortable around kids we obviously won’t be a great match for her and I want what’s best for her even if that’s not us.

She’s so CUTE!!!

But she’s also pretty shy. I’m hoping I can help her feel comfortable enough to come out of her shell soon.

[catmonsterscupcakes]

i haven’t been here in a while. life feels really weird and everything keeps changing. i have an internship for my major even after i graduated. i start in 2 weeks. I know ive been constantly scared of growing up and getting older since i was a child, but ever since i turned 21 during the pandemic its gotten worse. every year i mentally countdown the months until my birthday and it’s exhausting; its always like “ x months until im x age and never this young again”. ive just always been so scared of getting older, esp bc im a woman, and society hates older women. i think because im black, gay, a woman, and neurodivergent i feel as if youth is the only privilege i have, and with each passing hour its being stripped from me. i’m really scared. i’m really scared of turning 25 because thats the big number. it’s the number ppl use in online discourse abt adults in fandoms and how they shouldn’t be there anymore. it’s when ur not considered early 20’s anymore, it’s when u only have 5 years left til ur 30 and ur not allowed to make mistakes. i’m so scared. and i’ve never even dated before bc im still in the closet, and i can’t come out bc both sides of my family are super religious and will hate me. i’ve known ive like girls for 10 years and never had a teenage romance, or a college romance bc i went to college in my hometown and it was too risky. im not even particularly good at anything, i love art but im bad at time management and get discouraged easily so i haven’t reached my full potential. i could’ve been so good if i kept practicing. i basically coasted through school and i could’ve done so much better. if i hadn’t been so depressed during high school i could’ve actually gotten into a school outside my hometown or state and gone there. i’ve lived in the same place my whole life and im bored. if i did better in college maybe id have a shot at grad school or atleast more options. but now i have an internship, a full time one, for the entire summer. and then after that i have to find more work, and then more work, and then i’ll work until i die. and i’ll never have any fun youthful college experiences or teenage experiences to look back on. i lost my teens to mental illness, and i lost my early 20’s to the pandemic and then worse mental illness. i wish the pandemic never happened, i had just started at a 4 year college at 20, and was doing good and then it hit, and i got worse. this was really long, and no one will probably read this. but i had to let it out. i feel like no one in my life gets me. i’ve been so mentally ill for so long that everyone is numb to it. and i don’t even feel comfortable with my therapist bc ive had her since i was 15 and i have to eventually find a new one bc she specializes in adolescents and im her oldest client. i’m even too old for my therapist now.