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sherrybaby14 · 5 years ago

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Welcome Home

Summary: You couldn’t take your controlling boyfriend, so you ran away. He found you and hopes to change your mind, with the help of some friends.

Warnings: Smut, lost and found, very brief suicidal thought, I would not label this dub-con, but some might. (I have not warned for every possible trigger. Please read at your own risk).

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Words: 4200

A/N: This is for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor challenge! My prompt was “Safe in Hell”.

“There’s a real hottie in your section.” Your coworker reached above you for the coffee pot. “If he asks for your number you should give it to him.”

Your nerves went off. Was this the day? Did he find you? You shook them down, trying to act normal.

“Right.” You were trying to balance the tray of drinks for the rare family of four who walked into the diner. “Because I give it out to all the other truckers who stop in here.”

“Other truckers?” She laughed. “You won’t even give it to me! When are we going to get together for after work drinks?”

Another thing to worry about, people getting too chummy. A sign to leave.

“Soon.” You gave a nervous laugh as you rounded, hoisting the orange juices in the air as you went back into the crowded eating area.

Soon you would be gone. Never stay in a place for longer than three months, never use your real name, cash under the table, save whatever possible. No relationships, no attachments. That was the advice handed to you. It worked well the last eighteen months. Were you getting sloppy? Was the strange man finally him? The tray wobbled, thinking about dropping it and running out the backdoor.

It wasn’t the life you had planned for yourself, but you were more free in your time on the road than you had been the two years before.

You spotted the “hottie” your friend talked about. His back was to you, short dark hair, smaller shoulders, shorter. Any sense of worry you had faded. Wasn’t him.

A lot of the men who stopped in here were good looking. Ninety percent of them drove trucks back and forth across the country. They would forget your face as soon as they left, stomachs filled with greasy food and an insane amount of coffee. He was just another. It was the blondes that worried you.

Nobody questioned your secrecy until just now, most were in the same boat. Part of you was sure one of the cooks was wanted for murder. Your co-workers last names were Smith, Johnson, Washington, Jefferson. A lot of presidents. Made it hard to google Sarah Adams and get any pointed results.

“There we go.” You handed out the orange juice to the road-tripping family. “Gimme a minute and I’ll be back to take your order.”

Your coworker walked by, coffee pot in hand. You handed her the tray and took the hot beverage without even asking. The solo man’s cup was spun upright and you began to fill it when you approached the table.

“Room for cream?” You watched the dark liquid rise.

“I’d prefer a double whipped non-fat late, but I suppose cream will do.” The voice struck a nerve in your cord and you dropped the coffee pot.

Everything was moving in slow motion. You swore you saw the liquid following out, but the guest grabbed the pot in one hand while reaching out with his other and grabbing your wrist.

“Hi there.” He smiled up at you. “Have a seat.”

You were too numb to respond as he dragged your arm, pulling you into the booth behind him. You started to hyperventilate, the noise of the crowd fading as your world started to spin. How was this happening? Was this real?

“Don’t forget to breathe.” Tony let go of your wrist and took a sip of his coffee. “Not bad.”

You couldn’t react. You didn’t know how to.

“Really, I thought this was going to taste like dirt, but there’s something so basic about it, I can’t put my finger on it.” The billionaire took another sip. “Did you make it?”

You grabbed on to the table, a shake in your body as you looked up. Tony’s warm eyes had a hint of sympathy, but he smiled and it vanished. Had you lost your mind?

“Don’t have a lot of time so speak up Princess.” Tony flicked your arm.

A million questions ran through your head, but you spit out the first one. Your main fear.

“Is he….here?” There was a lump in your throat, could you outrun Ironman? Were you insane?

“Don’t ask questions you won’t like the answer to.” Tony’s eyes dropped to the table as he grabbed a packet of sugar.

Escape. You had to escape. All the ways out you had planned in your head didn’t involve a visit from Tony Stark. How was that even possible? They were the good guys. Maybe they didn’t know? Maybe you could reason with his friend, get them to see. Put an end to this madness, get your life back.

“Listen to me.” You grabbed Tony’s hand, not wanting to understand how you were capable of touching him. “He is insane. He is controlling and demanding and you need to help me.”

“I know.” Tony nodded. “Trust me, I know.”

Your shoulders relaxed. Tony knew he was insane.

“When you were in his life, you made him better.” Tony laughed. “SInce you’ve been gone. Well, everyone else has had to deal with that side.”

You recoiled.

“He has saved a lot of lives. He’s a good man.” Tony let out a huge breath.

“HE RUINED MY LIFE!” You slammed the table. “He...he picked out my clothes, he made me quit my job, he nit picked everything I did, he followed me everywhere, he destroyed my friendships, he controlled everything.”

“Did he ever hit you?” Tony ran his hand over his hair.

“What?” You glanced over his face.

“Did he tell you what you could and couldn’t do?” Tony leaned back in the booth. “What was he holding over you? That you couldn’t leave? That you ran away in the middle of the night?”

“I tried to break up with him.” Your lip quivered. “But he sabotaged everything, every job application, apartment, bills. He forced it so he was my only option.”

That was how Steve operated. He didn’t give ultimatums, he didn’t hit you. He just twisted your life so you were dependent on him. A master of emotional manipulation.

“Well, when he had you to look after.” Tony reached down next to him and pulled out some electronic device. “He wasn’t so difficult to deal with, but since you left of your own free will, he has been a bit of a horror.”

“Own free will?” You were seething. “I tried to leave at least ten times! He always found a way to make me come back. We were only together for a year, I realized he was tricking me, messing with my mind. I called it off then, it took me another year of forgiving and coming back before I had to vanish.”

“Vanish?” Tony raised an eyebrow. “Hardly.”

He tapped a button on his device. This place barely got cell service but a screen seemed to appear out of nowhere. Your jaw dropped as you scanned what was in front of you. Pictures, notes, dollar amounts. Every place you’d been the last eighteen months.

“I...I need to get back to work.” You started to stand, planning to sprint out the back and run until you died.

Tony let out a whistle. All noise in the diner stopped. The people got up from their seats, the staff stopped in place. All of them left the building in a neat and practiced order.

“Sit back down.” Tony slid the screen over, but didn’t close it. “Don’t make this difficult.”

“I am leaving.” Your chest was heavy. “You can’t stop me.”

“No, but I can call the police.” Tony scratched his head. “They will be here faster than you can get outside, ready with a pair of handcuffs.”

“I didn’t do anything.” Your legs started to shake.

“In the last year and a half you have committed a staggering amount of crimes.” Tony hit his screen and they changed. “Identity theft, tax evasion, moving stolen property over state lines, not to mention the civil liabilities from the landlords you ran out on.”

“Bullshit!” You hit the table. “I used fake names, I worked under the table, I was trying to hide.”

“Well, there’s an admission to the tax evasion.” Tony crossed his arms and leaned back. “My personal attorneys have studied this and found every little thing you have done wrong. It’s all here. Those fake names, turns out some real people have them.”

You knew how powerful the Avengers were, but you thought the only evil one was Steve. Besides, there was the one other nagging thought.

“How?” Your mind was so focused on Steve, you couldn’t focus on anything else.

“With a good federal prosecutor and several amazing state’s attorneys, you will be bouncing from prison-to-prison for the rest of your life. Would you like to have a seat now?” Tony’s sympathy vanished.

Yes. You thought about life in prison. Could you handle it? Take it? Would it be better than this?

“I promise you it would not.” Tony glared up at you. “Now sit.”

You crumbled back into the booth.

“What does he want?” You knew Tony was just the middle man. “Were any of the people here ever real? Were you just waiting until you had enough on me?”

“Of course we were.” Tony rolled his eyes. “Steve found you a day after you left. He has been trailing you nonstop. I saw the bigger picture. He’d convince you to come back and you would run again. We tempted you with some major crimes by the way, kudos to you for not robbing that guy in Portland. Those were marked bills. Would’ve had you ten months ago.”

“I’m going to be sick.” You leaned over and clutched your stomach, all the precautions you’d been taking, your life. It meant nothing.

“Here’s what he wants.” Tony slammed a little black box on the table. “Not the most romantic proposal, but you know Steve. He doesn’t want any of the dirty stuff on his hands.”

“Oh God.” You clutched your stomach, trying to ignore the sound of Tony opening the box.

“He loves you.” Tony reached over the table and set it on your knee. “He will take care of you. Your life will be better than this.”

“He’s obsessed with me.” You glared at him. “That’s not love!”

“Sure it is.” There was no humor on Tony’s face. “Maybe not your definition. But to him, it’s love.”

“He...he could have anyone, why me?” Your reality began to set in and tears started to fall.

“If I had to guess, your mind.”

“I’m not a genius.” You looked up at him with red shot eyes. “I thought I was free and he, he never left me.”

You thought back to all the good looking single guys in here asking for your number, the way your coworkers were in the same boat as you. It wasn’t dumb luck. It was a controlled experiment.

“You need to ask him these questions.” Tony’s sympathy showed again. “He is waiting for your answer. Take a look at the ring. Put it on your finger, or else except some less-than-pleasant jewelry on your wrists.”

The sound of Tony’s footsteps and the ding of the diner bell made you sob. There was no doubt the building was surrounded. You had a third option, but that wasn’t in the cards for you.

Your life with Steve flashed in your brain. The way he looked at you, the way he sent a tingle down your spine, the way he got you to try new things, and when you didn’t like them he would stop. He was kind, to you, but any life outside of him, that’s when he showed his true colors.

Without opening your eyes you knew what the ring would look like. Large and heavy, a single giant stone that people could see from yards away. Ownership. That was Steve.

Which prison did you want?

You gulped down, and looked at the box. Your heart raced as you brought your hand to your mouth. It was small. It was ugly even, a single pear cut diamond in a bronze band, but your heart filled with warmth.

Different memories came forward, pretending to be a bride with a pillowcase, talking with your father about walking down the aisle, watching your mother cheers at your graduation. The ring on her finger.

“How?” Your parents were dead, a tragic accident, nothing was recovered. It happened a year before you met Steve.

The initial wave of comfort he had brought came over you again. The way he listened, tried to help you.

“Photos.” Nat’s voice made you jerk your head up. “He had it recreated down to exact specifics.”

“It's not hers?” Your heart didn’t sink at the realization, in fact it panged with comfort.

“He’s not a miracle worker.” Nat slid into the booth. “But he tries.”

The strangeness of the last five minutes dawned on you again. You wouldn’t go back, you slammed the ring box shut.

“Please, we were friends. Get Steve to let me go.” You bit back a sob. “Women-to-women, you saw how bad it got and…”

“I saw a devoted man, who might not have chosen a woman who understood all his traits, but awoke something in him.” Nat leaned forward. “He wants you. Only you. I sent a few incredibly good looking guys to hit on you, and you shut them all down. Are you sure you want anyone else?”

“I didn’t...I couldn’t...settle down.” You took a heavy breath. “He could find me if I built a life. I needed to keep moving.”

“He’s always known where you were.” Nat smiled. “Now make the right choice. He’s waiting.”

“Wait, help me?” You looked up at her with glassy eyes as she left the booth.

“I already have.” The sadness on her face was too much, you started to cry again. “We both have.”

You didn’t take your eyes off of her as she left the diner. The door moved in slow motion, slammed shut.

You tried to bite back the scream, but it came out. The vision faded, the diner was filled again. Ghosts vanished.

The tray of orange juice hit the ground with a smash and a spill. Everyone in the diner turned to stare at you. Including the “hottie” your coworker warned you about.

Tall, blonde, beautiful, controlling, manipulative, but also protective, caring, pushing, and instead of crying and running away you burst out into tears and ran toward him. Not registering that everyone in the diner was watching.

“I...I missed you so much.” Steve scooped you up in his arms. “I was wrong. I was wrong on so many levels, after we lost Tony and Natasha, I couldn’t lose you. And I shouldn’t have tried to keep you the way I did.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Warmth, home, everything negative flushed away.

“Hey, you gonna clean this up?” Your coworker held the coffee pot, looking pissed off.

You looked back at Steve, who was just as stunned from the kiss as the rest of the restaurant was from the sound of you dropping your tray.

“I’ll change. I miss you so much.” Steve wrapped his arms around your waist. “I’ve been changing. Working on myself. I can’t believe I pushed you that hard. I wanted to keep you safe.”

“I’m safe when I am with you.” There was a fullness in your heart, one you didn’t realize you were missing. “I didn’t do anything bad.”

“What?” Steve laughed. “You? This was not the conversation I was expecting. The night you left, I just, I realized my trying to protect you was overriding everything else. My trauma was creating trauma for you. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you let me.”

“Please?” You didn’t wait for a response when you put your lips to his.

Steve let out a grunt and held you tighter, your bodies pressed together as hard as they could be, your mouth devouring each other in the middle of the restaurant.

He pulled away first, slowing down the kiss until he could press his forehead to yours.

“Let’s get out of here.” His gaze made your heart feel like it was going to beat out of your chest.

You nodded and undid the tie on your apron, throwing it on the table along with the orders and cash you’d received on your shift so far.

Everyone’s eyes were on you as Steve took your hand and led you out of the place. Nobody spoke a word. It was like they weren’t even there.

Steve walked you to the side of a pick up truck. He opened the door and boosted you inside.

“You don’t understand how unprepared I was for this.” Steve grinned as he buckled your seatbelt. “I was ready to plead and beg, we were meant for each other.”

As the belt clicked you grabbed his cheeks and kissed him again, moaning into his mouth. The time apart now felt like a wasted lifetime. This was right. He was right. Why did it take unearthly visitors to show you what was in front of your face the whole time.

“We have to stop, or I won’t be able to control myself.” Steve wiped his lips as he backed away, slamming the door shut.

He rounded the front of the truck and climbed in the driver’s seat. Buckling in and turning over the engine he whipped out of the parking lot. You wasted no time sliding your hand up his thigh.

“I missed you. God, I missed you.” He gripped the wheel. “I can’t believe I let you get away.”

“Well I’m back now.” You let your hand climb father up his jeans, cupping the bulge of his pants. “And I’m never leaving again.”

You glanced at him, his eyes were fixed on the deserted road. You went for the button on his pants.

“What are you doing?” Steve looked to you with concern.

“I can’t wait any longer.” You yanked down the zipper and pulled his cock out. “I need you, as much of you as I can get.”

Steve let out a moan, approving. You dropped your head and wrapped your lips around his cock. Trying to drool as much as possible, wanting to take him deep.

He shifted, and moved as close to you as possible without stopping. His hand found the skirt of your waitress uniform and pushed it up. He cupped your pussy, making you squeak with the realization of how wet you were, rubbing down hard.

“I guess you did miss me.” He dragged his fingers up and over the top of your panties.

You lifted your hips and pulled them down, trying to concentrate on getting his dick as wet as possible, but eager for your own pleasure too.

“I love you.” His finger found your slit and gathered your juices. “I’ll love you forever.”

Your eyes popped open as he slid a digit inside you with ease. You turned your body so that you were able to press your clit to the base of his palm as he flexed his finger inside of you.

A moan left your mouth and his cock slid deeper.

“You are my forever. I need you. I was a wreck without you.” Steve grunted and his cock slid further into your mouth. “I’ll never let you leave. Never again. I can’t...I can’t be without you.”

You flicked your tongue and sucked harder, sliding down. His knee popped up to touch the steering wheel and his other hand found the back of your head.

“You’re like no other.” He guided you further, his fingers working you into a frenzy as you humped against him, your clit coming to life. “The only soul in existence who fits with mine.”

His words made your heart flutter, but his hands were bringing you closer to the edge.

“And you lied. You did do something bad.” Steve groaned. “You left. I never gave up. I gave you your space, but that’s over. You’re my home.”

You tried to nod as best you could, but you were more interested in controlling your gag reflex. Your body was on fire, nipples tightening, hot and cold alternated all over you. Why did you ever leave him? None of that mattered now.

“Now, be a good girl.” Steve slid another finger inside and began working faster, sliding in and out, flexing against your inside while his palm ground into your clit. “Show me how much you missed me.”

Your body knew what he wanted before you mind caught up and you started to convulse around his hand. Shots of pleasure firing off your entire being. You fell forward, his cock hitting the back of your throat, but the orgasm made you unaware of anything but ecstasy.

His hands vanished and you moved your mouth back, still unsteady from your release. You needed to return the favor, but before you could get to work two hands were on your shoulders, pushing you up to sitting.

You looked out the window and saw you were pulled over on the side of the road in broad daylight. Steve went between your legs and yanked your panties off.

“I need to have all of you.” He grabbed your thigh and guided you to his lap.

You nodded, straddling him as he guided his cock to your entrance.

“Mmm.” You bit your lip as he stretched your quaking pussy. “I missed you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I never should have left.”

“Shhh.” Steve pulled you down as he flexed up. The burn it caused was beautiful. “Our future is forever. Welcome home.”

You winced when you took him to the hilt. Home. That was the feeling in your heart.

Tears stung at the corner of your eyes as you dropped your head, Steve grabbed your cheek and guided your lips to his. His other hand dug into your hip and guided your body as he fucked you.

You need him to take the lead, incapable of knowing what to do without his skill. His tongue worked yours while his cock brought your pussy to life, rocking you while he slid in and out, short fast movements.

“Oh God.” You broke the kiss, unable to concentrate on it as he picked up the pace.

Steve pulled you against him, his mouth finding your neck, he bit and teased at the skin as you turned into a mewling shaking mess.

“You’re ready to cum.” Steve nipped at your skin.

“No.” You weren’t close, it was the after effects of the first one.

“Yes.” Steve’s hands ran up your back and pulled your down harder. “Don’t fight it. Don’t fight me. Give over.”

“I’m…” You didn’t understand your own body.

“Cum, cum for me.” Steve tugged you down with so much strength you gasped. “NOW!”

Your body responded. The orgasm ripping through you out of what felt like nowhere. The tears flowed as an inhuman noise left your body. You were nothing, just a ball of pleasure, pure euphoria.

Steve growled and joined you in finishing, coating your insides with his white foam. You collapsed against him, wishing the clothes were gone.

Consciousness was sneaking away, your eyes drifting shut. Before you slipped into sleep you swore you saw Tony and Nat, both smiling at you. You were home.

“Hey.” Steve was shaking your shoulder.

“Huh?” Your eyes opened to see a dark sky.

“We have to stop for the night.” He lifted you out of the truck. “You’ve been sleeping all day, but now I need some rest.”

“Sorry.” You wrapped your arms around his neck as he cradled you to his chest.

“Something tells me you haven’t slept that well in a long time.” Steve kissed your forehead as he carried you into the motel room. “You needed it.”

“I needed you.” You smiled as he set you down on the bed.

“Always.” Steve tossed a large bag he’d been carrying onto the floor. “I’m going to take a quick shower. You want to join me?”

“No.” You turned on your side and cuddle the pillow. “Too tired.”

“Alright.” He laughed. “I’ll be right out.”

Steve kissed your forehead again before going into the bathroom. The second he was gone your eyes popped open. You ran for the bag, unzipping it.

It didn’t take long for you to find two things. One was a Manila folder. You opened it and saw everything Tony had shown you, just the old fashioned paper way. Then you saw the little black box. The ring on the inside was the one Nat forced you to look at.

“Thank you.” You looked up at the ceiling, hoping they could hear you.

Steve was going to have you either way, but at least your visitors let you do it on your own terms. You closed up the bag and stood up from the floor.

You glanced to the exit, seeing the keys to the truck sitting there. Instead you smiled, and went to the bathroom, stripping off your clothes in the process. You were home.

#steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfic #fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfic

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spnfanficpond · 5 years ago

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May 2020 Angel Fish Awards

(New Angel Fish design by @slytherkins!!)

Every month all of you fantastic writers work your asses off to post some truly incredible stories. Our Angel Fish Awards are the way for all of us, as a community of writers and readers, to lift each other up and give praise to those who have captured our attention and deserve a few kind words.

The monthly Angel Fish Awards are peer-nominated, meaning ANYONE IN THE POND CAN NOMINATE ANY POND MEMBER’S FIC. While the Pond was founded to support the Guppies, everyone in this community deserves to be showered with love and feedback, and we hope that by opening this up as a Pond wide system, we’ll be able to share the love as far as it can go.

NOTE: WE’VE BEEN HAVING OCCASIONAL PROBLEMS WITH ASKS GOING MISSING. Please use the Submit button when submitting your nominations and make sure you’re signed into Tumblr or your URL won’t show. (If the form asks for your name and email address, then you’re not signed in.) If you like, you can also send a message to Michelle @mrswhozeewhatsis or Mana @manawhaat to check and make sure we got your submission.

Be sure to read through this whole post as people who were nominated more than once only had one tag activated for tumblr tagging purposes!

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, HERE ARE MAY’S ANGEL FISH AWARDS!

Nominated by @focusonspn

A Night on the Town (oneshot) by @supernatural-jackles

I completely love this fic!! Jensen is a total sweetheart, it’s really easy to read and all those words felt like only five minutes. This is everything a Jensen!girl could’ve asked for!!

Hunger (oneshot) by @impala-dreamer

HOLY. MOTHER. OF. HOTNESS. It was a fucking pleasure for my eyes to read every single word of this fic!! hot as hell, dark, Demon!Dean and in character as always.

Nominated by @mrswhozeewhatsis

Handkerchief (oneshot) by @babypieandwhiskey

I don’t usually read RPF, but this is an AU, so I dove in. Mechanic!Jensen with a magical supply of handkerchiefs, ready and willing to clean up whatever mess I find myself in? SOLD. Sweet, appeals to my love of Jensen’s back-pocket bandannas, and it activates my competence kink! Excuse me while I go wibble in the corner.

Nominated by @supernatural-jackles

Still The One (oneshot) by @luci-in-trenchcoats

I have a lot of respect for the way Michelle writes such difficult topics. She approaches them with such grace and accuracy, that makes it all the more realistic. This series is no exception. I deeply enjoy this series and the way things are playing out between Dean and the reader. It’s an extremely heartbreaking story that most of us don’t really think about until it’s put into this kind of perspective. This one is still ongoing, and I’m extremely excited to see how she handles the rest of the story. I highly recommend checking this one out. Just heed the warnings beforehand.

Nominated by @peridottea91

Healthy Competition (Series) by @kittenofdoomage

This! Omg this series! I love it so much!! It’s slower moving but keeps you itching for the next chapter and is oh so relatable. What woman hasn’t had body image issues? And what plus sized woman hasn’t had to deal with rude jerks and bullying? This fic is actually super realistic and hits all those relatable issues. Can’t wait to read the rest!!

Dangerous Signs (Series) by @kittenofdoomage

Ok, let me start by saying that I am a sucker for a good “character transported to alt. universe/world” fic. That said, I got soooooooooo addicted to this fic! It was so well written and you could just feel the reader’s hesitation and torn emotions. Should she stay? Should go? Ugh! Fantastic!! Also, kudos for the Norse mythology!! *chef’s kiss*

Nominated by @thegirlwhorunswithwinchesters

Cotton Candy (oneshot) by @ellewritesfix05

“It was always nice knowing [...] you could always find ways to bring light into Dean’s life.”

And he damn well deserves it! This was so sweet. No one can resist that “I didn’t do it” smile of his ;)

The Oath (Series) by @thecleverdame

This series is definitely dark, but it’s so so good. If you’re okay with reading about the heavy subjects covered in these chapters, you won’t regret giving this series a try. I can’t seem to stop diving into all of this author’s content. She’s just too good.

Choices (CYOE) by @talesmaniac89

I’ve been excited about this impressive project since I first saw the announcement post. Though I’m ashamed to say I haven’t gotten into reading the full thing yet, I plan on making time for reading ALL the different endings. I’m excited to see the different ways in which the story plays out, depending on the brothers’ personalities. For now, I’m recommending this first chapter, the starting point, which was already a beauty of its own. If you haven’t started yet yourself, prepare to be amazed.

Not Safe (Oneshot) by @torn-and-frayed

I love this. Spicy but sweet… Is that a cringy enough way for me to try and put my thoughts into words? I also just really miss Bobby, man.

nominated by @impala-dreamer

Safe Here (series) by @because-imma-lady-assface

This is one of the greatest Dean series. Ashley writes Dean amazingly well, too well sometimes, and this series gives him exactly what he needs; a place to feel safe and find comfort. I love this one so much!

Losing You (series) by @idreamofhazel

This is a superbly done Sam series that has stuck with me for a long time. I literally can’t go into Bed, Bath & Beyond without thinking about the ending <3

nominated by @kittenofdoomage

Blind Luck (oneshot) by @crispychrissy

A great Sam x reader that hits the holy trifecta of smut, fluff, and angst.

Blood And Water (series) by @crashdevlin

Pretty sure I’ve recc’d this before but it’s such a good series, so twisted and angsty, my dark little heart loves it. Heed the warnings!

Just Sam (oneshot) by @dontshootmespence

This might not be everyone’s cup of tea but for me, it’s perfection, because I am a kinky bitch and any other kinky bitches out there would definitely enjoy this XD

nominated by @deanwanddamons

Private Party With A Rockstar (oneshot) by @mummybear

@mummybear Has been working her butt off this month for her RolePlay May. She wrote this story for me and put me in it (my name is Sian). Rockstar!Jensen is one of my weakness’s, and she knows that, and clearly knows me very well too, as included everything I like 😉

She’s Not You by @winchest09

@winchest09 is one of my fave authors. This is a super cute, super fluffy fic which really cheered me up.

Dangerous Signs (Series) by @kittenofdoomage

I LOVED this series. it was so good and lots of fun with some very sexy going’s on. Rhi’s work is just fantastic 💕

Wedding Bells (oneshot) by @katehuntington

This one shot is super cute and fluffy! I love her writing so much and this is not exception 💕

Not Much Left (oneshot) by @impala-dreamer

Demon!Dean is another of my weakness’s and fic really hit the spot 🥵🔥

Dear Dean (series) by @smol-and-grumpy

This series made me laugh, made me cry, made me horny and made me gasp. One of the best series I have read 💕

nominated by @emilyshurley

Jensen’s Self Care Routine (oneshot) - @luci-in-trenchcoats

It is just adorable. People taking care of themselves for their loved ones. You can’t get more fluffy.

The Proposal (series) - @katymacsupernatural (Ongoing)

If you love fake dating fics, you’ll definitely love this one. Really like the character of “the reader”.

Private Party with a Rockstar (oneshot) - @mummybear

This one is both hot and adorable at the same time

You shook me (oneshot) @myinconnelly1

It’s Myin writing Demon!Dean what more do you want? No seriously that’s the perfect combination

Dancing the Spiral (oneshot) by @myinconnelly1

One of the only times I genuinely felt like a fic was creepy in a good way. And the passing of the whole thing is great. Am I little biased because its Myin, yes but that doesn’t make the fic any less good. sure it’s on the longer side but definitely worth it.

The only exception (series) - @ne-gans and @negans-lucille-tblr

I have only read the first part so far but I had to mention it. It is a serial killer AU so read the trigger warnings just in case.

Make it Big (series)- @negans-lucille-tblr

Again I’m still catching up It’s one of those fics I thought I won’t like reading but was really glad that I started.

Cast no Shadow (series) @kittenofdoomage

It’s Rhi, I can fangirl a lot about her fics. Really enjoyed (?) (that might not be the right word) the whole fitting a new relationship in existing ones. Felt to real in a weird way. It might seem like I don’t like the fic because of how I’m wording this but that’s really not the case.

Nominated by @deanwinchesterswitch

Sunshine (oneshot) by @talesmaniac89

If you like angst, this is the fic for you. It is utterly captivating and heart wrenching. It’s a cut your heart out with a dull centuries-old wooden spoon style hurt. The use of the song lines in this fic is well thought out and poetic. Make sure to have a box of tissues handy. If you don’t at least tear up while reading this, then you don’t have a heart to cut out, and your soul is already in hell.

Choices (CYOE) by @talesmaniac89

A clever interactive series where you get to choose your favorite Winchester, and the ending of the story. This is so detailed and intriguing. I loved the story I ended up with the first time, and excitedly went back in to pick the other options. Each story was unique and well written.

Babe I’m Gonna Leave You (oneshot) by @waywardbaby

This one shot is an absolutely stunning piece of smut. The lack of dialogue makes it that much better. All you’re left with is the option to feel the detailed emotions—sexual tension to the max.

No Words (oneshot) by @because-imma-lady-assface

Beautiful, detailed, and heartbreaking. Dean’s pain and need for comfort are palpable, and I cried while reading it. I can’t find the proper words to describe how this fic made me feel, but man did it ever make me feel.

Sky Full of Stars (oneshot) by @smol-and-grumpy

This is the sequel to Something Just Like This and is just as exciting as the first series. A roller coaster of suspense. The characters continue on their journey of love, dealing with the good and bad that comes with every relationship—the perfect combination of angst and fluff with a healthy dose of smut.

Something Just Like This (oneshot) by @smol-and-grumpy

A perfect combination of big badass Dean and soft, fluffy Dean, along with all the incredible smut your little heart could desire. I usually don’t like to read a series until it is complete, because I am impatient and don’t want to wait for the next chapter to post. However, this story was intriguing and sexy, and I couldn’t keep from reading each chapter as soon as it posted and then eagerly anticipating the next.

Nominated by anon

Request 42 (oneshot) by @thegirlwhorunswithwinchesters

This was super-duper cute!! I love frustrated soon to be parents especially when one of those parents is Dean! Great work, well worth the read!

Just A Daydream (onesho) by @maddiepants

This fic is refreshing with its canon-ness! I love Sam's little dream, and you get so wrapped up in it, you forget. Absolutely masterful and HOT AS HELL! Also, Tall People, WTF?

Thank you all for the awesome work and great feedback!

These are not actual awards! This system is set up so everyone in the pond has a chance to share the love and promote a fic/author that has grabbed your attention. The more people that participate, and the more everyone remembers to submit their own fics after posting, the better this will be :D

THANK YOU ALL AGAIN, KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK, AND AS ALWAYS, HAPPY WRITING!

#afa masterlist #afas #angel fish awards #spn fic rec #spn fanfic

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tiny-maus-boots · 5 years ago

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The Howl pt 11

A/N: Thank you all so much for your kind words. Thank you for those that read and say nothing but do drop kudos. Thank you for those that read and reread even if you never say a word or send kudos. Thank you for those that even bothered to give it a chance.

Biggest thank you to my bestie and beta because she made it better. And posts all the things. @chloes-yellow-cup

11.

Stacie was careful not to react with the sudden rush of anger at the news. It wasn't Aubrey's fault, she knew that, and really she hadn't blamed her in the least. But it was information that could have been shared sooner. Something she felt she should have known as soon as Aubrey realized there was tangible proof of who had taken Wade from them. The blonde waited patiently for Stacie to say or do something making her realize she hadn't even blinked.

“Why didn't you tell me you knew who did it?”

“Because I do not know who did it and I didn't think you would appreciate the news at the moment I learned of it, considering the attendance of your pack.”

She let out a sigh and nodded. That was fair, the timing had been wrong and after... The wolf rolled her hips in a slow grind against the woman under her, smiling at the way Aubrey rose to meet her. But they really couldn't afford to keep distracting each other while talking about serious things. Stacie slid to the side and propped her head up on a fist.

“But you have suspicions.”

Aubrey rolled to face her and nodded slowly. A slight furrow wrinkled the vampire's brow as she considered all the possibilities. “There are three of my blood here. Myself, my father, and my aunt but it can be none of us.”

Stacie wasn't so sure about that. She trusted Aubrey but she couldn't extend that trust to other vampires. One dark brow came up in question and she reached out to take Aubrey's hand and place it against her chest.

“Aubrey if you think you know who it is please...”

“I don't. I swear it can't be us. This type of illness can only come from a vampire that was made by bite not one that was born. None of us were bitten.”

Stacie's eyes dropped to the bite she'd made on Aubrey's shoulder, the edges were already starting to knit together where it had been shallow. She dipped her head, leaning forward and brushed butterfly light kisses over to buy herself some thinking time. She believed Aubrey without question but she didn't understand enough of vampire culture and lore to know how this could even happen.

“So how is this possible?”

Aubrey hesitated and brought her hands up to cup Stacie's face. She guided the wolf up until they were nose to nose again. It was clear that the vampire was making a conscious effort to be completely honest with her mate and Stacie respected it. Admired the courage and boldness of it even though it was giving up a lot of tightly held secrets.

“It would be possible if we had sired a vampire but...I swear Stacie, we don't have any bitten vampires in our line. There haven't been for as long as I have been alive and then some.” Stacie bumped her forehead lightly against Aubrey's in acceptance of what the blonde was saying. Still. There were questions. The vampire traced her jaw lightly with a delicate touch as she worked through all the other possibilities. “If there is a bitten vampire it would have be either very old, or very new. Though how I could have missed someone turning a human...”

Stacie had to smile at the way confusion made Aubrey's nose crinkle just a little. It was fucking adorable and she raised her head enough to be able to kiss the bridge of her mate's nose. Okay so this new information narrowed down the chasm of unknowns they were facing. She rolled to her back and stared up at the constellations carefully painted on her ceiling. It had taken her weeks to create the perfect night sky canopy and while the Sistine it was not, it gave her a sense of peace and wonder that helped her puzzle out heavy thoughts.

“So let's take age out of the equation here. If there was going to be a bitten vamp from your line it could only come from one of three people. One in a box.”

“One in your bed.”

“And one with everything to lose.”

Aubrey flopped onto her back with the weight of that final revelation. She suspected that the vampire had already considered this option but was hesitant to accept it. It couldn't be easy for her, working through all this and having to choose sides. Stacie herself had never stayed anywhere long enough to really have a place or people she could call hers. Aubrey had had six hundred years with the same fucked up family...but family they were. You didn't just shrug that off for a stranger.

The vampire sat up and slipped from the bed. Stacie scooted herself up and arranged the pillows against her headboard so she could watch as Aubrey picked up her flannel and slipped it on without bothering to button it. The way she brought the collar to her nose and closed her eyes as she took in Stacie's scent let the wolf know it wasn't because Aubrey was cold. She needed a distraction and some space to process but not enough space from Stacie that she couldn't surround herself in her mate's scent and warmth.

Stacie laid there, content to watch Aubrey pad over to the shelves of books on the wall. Curious fingers stroking along the spines as she read them. A small smile playing over her features when she found a particular title amusing or familiar. She moved on to the record player and modest collection of vinyl albums shelved on a couple of planks separated by cinder blocks. The vampire pushed the power button on the turntable and moved on to flip through the records as music spilled out of speakers.

Aubrey slowed her perusal and glanced at the record player, her head tipped to one side as she listened. Her body swaying gently to the sounds of Jenny Lewis singing for Rilo Kiley. Stacie sat up and gestured to the turn table.

“It's a band called Rilo Kiley...”

“Under the Blacklight. I know it.” Her smile was a slow surprised tug of her lips as Aubrey picked up the words and harmonized perfectly. “I saw them once. In California at the Greek Theatre. Good food, good music. It was quite memorable.”

Stacie's eyes widened at that and she felt herself flop back against the pillows with a grunt. What were the odds that she'd meet someone more than six hundred years her senior with the same taste in music? Of course 'good food' probably meant concert goers Aubrey had eaten which was an even odder counterpoint to the revelation. The soft chuckle of amazement grew into an outright laugh when Aubrey found her closet and one of Redd's shirts still hanging in it. The vampire picked it up with a pinch of two fingers and padded silently to the trashcan where she deposited it with a territorial and savage smirk.

Aubrey dusted her hands off on Stacie's shirt and moved around the loft humming along as she inspected and touched everything. She stopped at the smashed television barely hanging on by the cord and frowned. The vampire picked it up and carefully mounted it back on the wall bracket. The screen was shattered in a spiderweb of cracks and the act of putting it back up was pointless because she'd need a new one anyway but it was sweet that Aubrey clearly felt badly about breaking it. The blonde stood back with a final adjustment to make it perfectly level with a satisified nod of her head.

Her mate turned and bounded to the bed, pouncing on her almost playfully. Stacie laughed and rolled trying to pin Aubrey to the bed. But just a hint of movement from across the room was enough and the flat screen fell right off the wall mount, scraping the wall all the way down and snapping the cord as it landed face down on the floor with a sad jangling crash. Aubrey froze and turned wide apologetic eyes on Stacie, her mouth working as she tried to find words adequate enough to express her horrified embarrassment.

“I..I'm so sorry...”

It was utterly fucking hilarious and she barked out a laugh before nuzzling into Aubrey's neck. “Forget it, it's the least of my worries. You're ridiculously cute by the way and I think I should kiss you now.”

“Oh. Well if you think you should, you're the Alpha.”

Stacie gave another chuckle that died away and gentled into a smile when she pulled back enough to look down at Aubrey's mildly amused face. Impossible, improbable and highly unlikely as this love might be, it was there, growing and deepening with each passing moment they shared. She didn't lean into the kiss so much as sink into Aubrey, her body fitting against her mate, all their curves meeting and hugging in all the right places. The blonde pulled back after a few moments leaving Stacie breathless and weak.

“I will find the vampire responsible, Stacie. I promise you that. Even if that trail leads me right to Amélie's feet. Just please understand, I don't do it lightly. If my aunt has caused all of this the coven will be upended. Her leadership could be contested and a new Lord or Lady may make things worse.”

There was a hesitation that Stacie didn't understand and she pushed her nose under Aubrey's jaw in a comforting nuzzle. She didn't feel any sort of deception in the way her mate was holding back, just the faint feeling of sadness echoing through their connection.

“I am not well liked and only a deep fear of Tante Amélie has kept me from my final death many times. If I burn this bridge, I burn the whole bridge to cinders for I can never go back after. If your pack doesn't accept me...I will have no home, no coven, no family...”

“You have me.” It wasn't enough. She knew that. One person couldn't be a replacement for a whole social support system. Even as she said the words she knew it would never be enough for what Aubrey was willing to give up. There was a beat of silence between them, the vampire's eyes shimmering and shifting until they settled to a serene pale green. “You'll always have me, Aubrey.”

“Then I have everything.”

The connection between them pulsed and tightened, binding them even closer. They'd give anything for each other without question or thought. Without a hint of hesitation. Aubrey raised her hand and Stacie took it, fingers lacing together comfortably. A perfect fit like everything else about them.

“So how do we do this?” How did they figure this whole mess out? “Do we just confront her outright?”

“No.” The single word spoke volumes and Aubrey shook her head as much to clear her mind as to show she was against the idea of that. “There is a reason she survived a nest of revenants when others did not. Amélie is a fearsome fighter and one of the eldest. Direct confrontation would be death.”

“So what do we do?”

Aubrey bit her lip as she thought things through. There were so many layers she didn't even know where to begin pulling them back. Stacie was more of a direct confrontation type of girl, she didn't really get the intricacies of politics and intrigue. A fact that she had only recently come to realize was costing her a connection to her pack and her tenuous hold over it.

“We would need to convince the coven that is possible for her to have sired a vampire that is now ill. It is no secret that I have been tracking the revenants so there is some credibility to stand on. But our proof...”

“Is non existent. How do you prove a scent long gone?”

It was impossible and Stacie was starting to feel the weight of the task ahead of them. If they couldn't prove anything then all they were managing to do was put targets on their backs, and the backs of every one in Gustavus. Potentially, it could all blow up in their faces.

“Maybe...we don't. If we can create enough doubt it will push some of the elders to call for a test of bloodlines. A judge, usually the best of our trackers, would be selected and all the vampires, pure and bitten would be bled. A simple but crude way to see if our family has been keeping secrets.” Aubrey gave a soft hum, her hand squeezing Stacie's lightly. “But I wouldn't trust any vampire selected judge. There is too great a chance that Tante could bribe their silence or worse, one of the others could buy lies. It would be too easy to frame another for a centuries dead grudge, of which there are many.”

“What about an impartial one? Would they trust the nose of a wolf?”

Maybe. There was a shot, if they could get the vampires to trust them enough to sniff out the culprit. But if they did then it would definitely lead to Aubrey's aunt and after that she didn't know what would happen. Would the vampires handle it themselves? Would any of this free Aubrey from her obligation to her coven or get Wade justice?

“Any wolf? No. A wolf queen? Perhaps. But we alone can't walk into the catacombs. We'll be slaughtered. We need the strength of your pack behind us, preferably furry.”

Which required them to trust Aubrey. The air rushed out of her lungs and she weighed the consequences of going in without a pack at her back. A few would come but not enough and it would be a massacre. And could they buy enough time for the full moon to have a show of force? Aubrey nudged her gently onto her back and tucked her body along the length of Stacie's side.

“You think your coven is going to wait until the next full moon?”

“Vampires don't agree to anything quickly. They will take some time to decide to meet, I have no fear we can negotiate for a full moon parley. I worry though that your pack...”

“Our pack.”

Aubrey stayed silent at her immediate correction but dipped her head in surprised thoughtfulness. Stacie frowned at the way the vampire seemed to squirm under her gaze and she tucked a finger under the blonde's chin to lift it gently.

“They'll never accept me Stacie. Not as your mate, not as your equal. There is nothing I can do to make it otherwise because I will always be the parasite in their midst. Nothing more than a tick to be tolerated, it is a role I am quite accustomed to.”

The wolf in her raged at the injustice of Aubrey's words because she knew there was a possibility they could be true. But Stacie had faith in something more than just their relationship. Something had brought them together, then, at that juncture in time. A bond unlike anything before it for either species because she and Aubrey were different, anomalies even for their kind, that had to mean something. Power roared through her and tumbled down their connection to fill Aubrey with the warmth of her wolf.

“You're my mate, my chosen. It won't be easy but I trust them to see you as I do. You just have to play by their rules.” Aubrey's lip curled and she let out a low warble of a snarl. Stacie kind of liked the rebellious streak and chuckled with a slight shake of her head. “I know. Rules are the pits and I'm not gonna lie, what we've got to do is gonna suck.”

Aubrey perked up at that and nipped at the swell of Stacie's breast. “I'm good at that.”

“Baby...you're the best at that.” Her whole body clenched at the memory of Aubrey's fangs sinking into the flesh high up on her inner thigh as she fed. “But I'm serious. They're gonna force a mating hunt on the blood moon because even I can't fight the shift the first night.”

“The first night?”

“The effects of the blood moon last three nights for us.” The tiny furrow of concentration pulled between Aubrey's brows then smoothed away as if it had never been. Stacie's brow came up in question. “What'cha thinking there, Machiavelli?”

Aubrey blinked at her and made a face. “He wishes.”

Stacie opened her mouth to say something then closed it with a click not quite sure which question she was dying to know first. Did that response imply that she had known him, or that...she currently knew him? Too many mind boggling questions were suddenly crowding her brain making it hard to think past the fact that her forever girl was really fucking old.

“I think I would like to know more of this mating hunt before I share my thoughts. If...if that is alright with you?”

Fair enough. Stacie smiled and wrapped her arms around the blonde trying to mentally prepare for explaining a wolf hunt like that. It was one of those things she'd always hated about pack law and the fact that she was going to have to do what she'd had never agreed with was giving her a little anxiety. A cool hand smoothed over her collarbone, fingers stroking gently. It was comforting and helped her slow the sudden racing of her heart.

“Mating hunts are what packs do to ensure that the strongest of us survive. In a female's case we run as far and as fast as we can to the deepest parts of the woods. When the moon rises all the eligible wolves, mostly males, shift and track us. They hunt and fight among themselves until someone gets the girl.” She said it with as much dispassion as she could muster but truthfully the whole thing made her sick. There were no choices in mating hunts, there was only instinct and the brutality of nature. There was no control! “After that the urge to mate is impossible to ignore. The pack has to honor the rules of the hunt, the winner is mate.”

Silence filled the space around them before Aubrey spoke quietly. “Do you have no say in the matter?” Stacie didn't say anything and she felt Aubrey's understanding slow nod. “And I assume I would have to hunt with all the other would be suitors, leaving me alone against who knows how many vampire hating werewolves. Oh that's IS going to suck.”

If Aubrey didn't make it...if anything happened to Aubrey...it was all very risky. They could lose everything with a gamble like this. Was it really worth the risk of a wolf getting to her before Aubrey did? And if Aubrey made it...could Stacie force a shift?

“It's a lot...”

“I'll be there.”

“Aubrey, things could go wrong. You cou...”

Aubrey's thumb traced her bottom lip in a soft caress. “Nothing will stop me from getting to you. I am your vampire but you are my wolf. We chose each other in a world where we are given none to make. I dare someone to take it from us now.”

Her heart fluttered at the slow shuddered beat from Aubrey's chest. As irregular and sluggish as it beat, she knew that beat was all for her. Stacie brought their lips together in a deep kiss, needing to share the desperate, consuming fire in her heart. Maybe it wasn't a perfect plan but they had something more than they did an hour ago. And if they pulled it off...

Aubrey nipped at her chin and pinned her to the bed, hunger rising and flooding their bond. Stacie gasped and gripped the sheets tightly in her fists as teeth found a home in her neck. If they pulled this off, no one would dare challenge their union or their choices again.

It could be a new world order...

She wasn't sure which of them thought it or if it even mattered. This was their life now and they would rule it as they saw fit.

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data-monkey · 6 years ago

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AO3 stats project: data provenance

A few years ago, I was curious about some of the characteristics of works posted on the Archive of Our Own, so I scraped some (lots) of data and went about analyzing it. This series of posts describes that analysis. It’s broken down into 7 posts; this is the first one, describing the data set and how it was collected.

Thanks to @eloiserummaging for beta reading these posts; any remaining errors are my own. A Python notebook showing the code I used to make these plots can be found here.

In case you’ve wandered in here without knowing about the Archive of Our Own (aka AO3), here’s a brief primer. It’s a fan-run, nonprofit archive for all kinds of “fan works”--that means fanfiction, but also other media such as fanart, podfic (fanfiction audiobooks), fanvids (audiovisual media), meta (fanwork criticism), etc. The AO3 has a ratings system and a warnings system, but they’re both optional in the sense that you can choose an “abstain” option (“No Rating” or “Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings”, respectively). When you do a search or look at an index page, you can generally see the title, fandom, creator, summary, warnings, rating, category (since many fanworks are romantic/sexual in nature, this is basically either “gen” for no romance, or the gender configuration of the main relationship(s)), language, word count, comment count, kudos count (you leave “kudos” for the author instead of hitting a “like” button), and whether the work is part of a series. On many works, but not all, you can also see the hit count--this is turned on by default, but authors can turn it off. And finally, there are also generally a number of freeform tags. The AO3 has one of the best tagging systems out there, and I’ll make use of that in some later posts.

Before we get into this, I wanted to shout out @destinationtoast, who has been on the fan stats beat for years. Some of what I’m going to show in the next few posts will duplicate work she or others have done. I’m still showing it because our data collection methods are different, and so the answer they get and the answer I get may be different. Redoing some of the analysis means that all the graphs I am showing are self-consistent. But you should really go check out @toastystats and her great masterpost of stuff if you’re interested in this topic.

For my analysis, I collected data by scraping AO3 works pages in most fandoms over a period of several years, skipping large subfandoms so I didn’t duplicate information--e.g., I did not download “Stargate: SG-1” data because all of those works are also included in “Stargate - All Media Types”. I attempted to be kind to the server load by leaving lag times between successive pages and taking frequent breaks, and I also have regularly donated to the OTW, more than enough to offset the cost of my downloads for this project. The total amount of data is well under a single day’s load on the servers, and collected over several years, although I would guess that on my peak downloading days I was probably the #1 user by data volume.

Here’s what the actual collection dates look like:

I grabbed a bunch of stuff in 2015, updated again in 2016, let things lie for 18 months, and then picked back up. So the data set I have contains everything posted in 2017 or earlier that was still available when I collected the data, and most (but not all) of the data posted in 2018 or later.

To avoid re-downloading, if I went back to update a previously-downloaded fandom, I only went back far enough to get to the newest works I’d seen the previous time I downloaded. That means that anything posted before 2016 or so is “frozen” in this data set--it hasn’t had its hits, kudos, or comments updated, and if other changes were made (orphaning, deletion) that is also not captured. If a work moved up in the sort date (for example, if it had a new chapter added), the new data was used instead of the earlier collected data.

I was not logged in, so no private works appear anywhere in this data set. (So you should probably think of this as “stats of public AO3 works” not “stats of AO3 works”--they will probably be different because some fandoms are more likely to privatize their fic than others.) Because I’m not able to get individual permission from authors to show their data, I’ll only be showing aggregate data--the rough cutoff in my head is that I only show data points that represent >1000 works.

I also wanted to download tag information, because the Archive tagging system allows users to choose any tags they like, and then bundles those tags into synonyms in the backend--allowing somebody to misspell a tag “John Waston” instead of “John Watson”, for example, but preserving that they meant “John Watson” for purposes of searching. I downloaded the tag description page for any tag which appears in the data >=500 times and used that data to unify all synonyms of the most-used tags. Tag pages are not redownloaded once downloaded, so tag updates since May 2015 are mostly not represented here, except for a few tags which crossed my lower-cutoff threshold sometime between May 2015 and 2018.

Overall, I downloaded meta-information for 4,337,545 works. I won’t be sharing this dataset because it includes now-deleted works, but if you have a question that a dataset like this could answer, I can try to answer that question, time allowing.

#fan stats #ao3 #fanstats

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sherryscloset · 5 years ago

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Warnings: I have chosen not to list any warnings. Read at your own risk.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Words:

“There’s a real hottie in your section.” Your coworker reached above you for the coffee pot. “If he asks for your number you should give it to him.”

Your nerves went off. Was this the day? Did he find you? You shook them down, trying to act normal.

“Right.” You were trying to balance the tray of drinks for the rare family of four who walked into the diner. “Because I give it out to all the other truckers who stop in here.”

“Other truckers?” She laughed. “You won’t even give it to me! When are we going to get together for after work drinks?”

Another thing to worry about, people getting too chummy. A sign to leave.

“Soon.” You gave a nervous laugh as you rounded, hoisting the orange juices in the air as you went back into the crowded eating area.

It wasn’t the life you had planned for yourself, but you were more free in your time on the road than you had been the two years before.

You spotted the “hottie” your friend talked about. His back was to you, short dark hair, broad shoulders. Any sense of worry you had faded. Wasn’t him.

“There we go.” You handed out the orange juice to the road-tripping family. “Gimme a minute and I’ll be back to take your order.”

“Room for cream?” You watched the dark liquid rise.

“I’d prefer a double whipped non-fat late, but I suppose cream will do.” The voice struck a nerve in your cord and you dropped the coffee pot.

Everything was moving in slow motion. You swore you saw the liquid following out, but the guest grabbed the pot in one hand while reaching out with his other and grabbing your wrist.

“Hi there.” He smiled up at you. “Have a seat.”

You were too numb to respond as he dragged your arm, pulling you into the booth behind him. You started to hyperventilate, the noise of the crowd fading as your world started to spin.

“Don’t forget to breathe.” Tony let go of your wrist and took a sip of his coffee. “Not bad.”

You couldn’t react. You didn’t know how to.

“Really, I thought this was going to taste like dirt, but there’s something so basic about it, I can’t put my finger on it.” The billionaire took another sip. “Did you make it?”

You grabbed on to the table, a shake in your body as you looked up. Tony’s warm eyes had a hint of sympathy, but he smiled and it vanished.

“Is he….here?” There was a lump in your throat, could you outrun Iron Man?

“Don’t ask questions you won’t like the answer to.” Tony’s eyes dropped to the table as he grabbed a packet of sugar.

Escape. You had to escape. All the ways out you had planned in your head didn’t involve a team of superheroes. You never thought he would involve them. Maybe they didn’t know? Maybe you could reason with his friend, get them to see. Put an end to this madness, get your life back.

“Listen to me.” You grabbed Tony’s hand. “He is insane. He is controlling and demanding and you need to help me.”

“I know.” Tony nodded. “Trust me, I know.”

Your shoulders relaxed. Tony knew he was insane.

“When you were in his life, you made him better.” Tony touched your hand. “SInce you’ve been gone. Well, everyone else has had to deal with that side.”

You recoiled.

“He has saved a lot of lives. He’s a good man.” Tony let out a huge breath.

“Did he ever hit you?” Tony ran his hand over his hair.

“What?” You glanced over his face.

“Did he tell you what you could and couldn’t do?” Tony leaned back in the booth. “What was he holding over you? That you couldn’t leave? That you ran away in the middle of the night?”

“I tried to break up with him.” Your lip quivered. “But he sabotaged everything, every job application, apartment, bills. He forced it so he was my only option.”

That was how Steve operated. He didn’t give ultimatums, he didn’t hit you. He just twisted your life so you were dependent on him. A master of emotional manipulation.

“Vanish?” Tony raised an eyebrow. “Hardly.”

“I...I need to get back to work.” You started to stand, planning to sprint out the back and run until you died.

Tony let out a whistle. All noise in the diner stopped. The people got up from their seats, the staff stopped in place. All of them left the building in a neat and practiced order.

“Sit back down.” Tony slid the screen over, but didn’t close it. “Don’t make this difficult.”

“I am leaving.” Your chest was heavy. “You can’t stop me.”

“No, but I can call the police.” Tony scratched his head. “They will be here faster than you can get outside, ready with a pair of handcuffs.”

“I didn’t do anything.” Your legs started to shake.

“Bullshit!” You hit the table. “I used fake names, I worked under the table, I was trying to hide.”

“Well, there’s an admission to the tax evasion.” Tony crossed his arms and leaned back. “I had my personal attorneys study this and find every little thing you have done wrong. It’s all here. Those fake names, turns out some real people have them.”

You knew how powerful the Avengers were, you knew how rich Tony was, but you thought the only evil one was Steve.

Yes. You thought about life in prison. Could you handle it? Take it? Would it be better than this?

“I promise you it would not.” Tony glared up at you. “Now sit.”

You crumbled back into the booth.

“What does he want?” You knew Tony was just the middle man. “Were any of the people here ever real? Were you just waiting until you had enough on me?”

“I’m going to be sick.” You leaned over and clutched your stomach, all the precautions you’d been taking, your life. It meant nothing.

“Here’s what he wants.” Tony slammed a little black box on the table. “Not the most romantic proposal, but you know Steve. He doesn’t want any of the dirty stuff on his hand.”

“Oh God.” You clutched your stomach, trying to ignore the sound of Tony opening the box.

“He loves you.” Tony reached over the table and set it on your knee. “He will take care of you. Your life will be better than this.”

“He’s obsessed with me.” You glared at him. “That’s not love!”

“Sure it is.” There was no humor on Tony’s face. “Maybe not your definition. But to him, it’s love.”

“He...he could have anyone, why me?” Your reality began to set in and tears started to fall.

“If I had to guess, your mind.”

“I’m not a genius.” You looked up at him with red shot eyes. “I thought I was free and he, he never left me.”

You thought back to all the good looking single guys in here asking for your number, the way your coworkers were in the same boat as you. It wasn’t dumb luck. It was a controlled experiment by the most powerful group in the world.

“You need to ask him these questions.” Tony’s sympathy showed again. “He is outside, waiting for your answer. Take a look at the ring. Come out with it on your finger, or else except some less-than-pleasant jewelry on your wrists.”

The sound of Tony’s footsteps and the ding of the diner bell made you sob. There was no doubt the building was surrounded. You had a third option, but that wasn’t in the cards for you.

Without opening your eyes you knew what the ring would look like. Large and heavy, a single giant stone that people could see from yards away. Ownership. That was Steve.

Which prison did you want?

“How?” Your parents were dead, tragic accident, nothing was recovered. It happened a year before you met Steve.

The initial wave of comfort he had brought came over you again. The way he listened, tried to help you.

“Photos.” Nat’s voice made you jerk your head up. “He had it recreated down to exact specifics.”

“It's not hers?” Your heart didn’t sink at the realization, in fact it panged with comfort.

“He’s not a miracle worker.” Nat slid into the booth. “But he tries.”

The strangeness of the last five minutes dawned on you again. You wouldn’t go back, you slammed the ring box shut.

“Please, we were always friends. Get Steve to let me go.” You bit back a sob. “Women-to-women, you saw how bad it got and…”

“I saw a devoted man, who might not have chosen a woman who understood all his traits, but awoken something in him.” Nat leaned forward. “He wants you. Only you. I sent a few incredibly good looking guys to hit on you, and you shut them all down. Are you sure you want anyone else?”

“I didn’t...I couldn’t...settle down.” You took a heavy breath. “He could find me if I built a life. I needed to keep moving.”

“He’s always known where you were.” Nat smiled. “Now make the right choice. He’s waiting.”

“Wait, help me?” You looked up at her with glassy eyes as she left the booth.

“I already have.” The sadness on her face was too much, you started to cry again. “We both have.”

You didn’t take your eyes off of her as she left the diner. The door moved in slow motion, slammed shut.

You tried to bite back the scream, but it came out.

The tray of orange juice hit the ground with a smash and a spill. Everyone in the diner turned to stare at you. Including the “hottie” your coworker warned you about.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Warmth, home, everything negative flushed away.

“Hey, you gonna clean this up?” Your coworker held the coffee pot, looking pissed off.

You looked back at Steve, who was just as stunned from the kiss as the rest of the restaurant was from the sound of you dropping your tray.

“I’ll change. I miss you so much.” Steve wrapped his arms around your waist. “I’ve been changing. Working on myself. I can’t believe I pushed you that hard. I wanted to keep you safe.”

“I’m safe when I am with you.” There was a fullness in your heart, one you didn’t realize you were missing. “I didn’t do anything bad.”

“

0 notes

alinastarvko · 5 years ago

Note

I completely get what you were talking about with how a lot of people who make truly amazing gifs don’t necessarily get the recognition they deserve. I think with smaller fandoms any type of content will get notes but I can’t imagine how disheartening it is when you put a lot of work into something. I myself am dreadful at making any type of edits and even though I’ve dabbled with making gifs I’ve never posted them bc I don’t think they deserve notes (1)

but I guess a lot of people starting out will still post their stuff bc they want to improve. I’m not sure if any of what I said made sense lmao (2)

edit: this is the post the anon is referring to

thank you for sending these, i didn’t actually expect anyone to read my rant in tags lmao

my intention never was to diminish any editor in this fandom. you’re absolutely right about when the fandom is small anything will do.

i’m gonna put the rest under a cut because this got a little long, my bad

i guess i should have specified that i was talking about two particular posts and not everything in general. what do they have in common you may ask? they’re about gr*zz and s*m. and this is tumblr, people see two dudes/girls making out, hugging, showing any sign of romantic or physical connection, and they hit the reblog or like button, and i honestly don¡t blame them, the lgbt+ community is always looking for representation in media, i know i do. listen, i’m not the tumblr police and i am no one to tell you what you should or shouldn’t reblog, maybe you like something i don’t and vice-versa when it comes to these things.

as for beginner editors, everyone can improve! when you’re starting out what matters is that you figure out what “your style” is. what type of content do you like to make? gifs,graphics etc? take me as an example, i make gifs but there’s hardly ever any dialogue in them, i usually put quotes or lyrics, people have told me that’s my thing.

for instance, allie*srules recently started to make gifs and she kept experimenting and trying to improve, always looking for options, she posted her first gifsets and didn’t really care about notes, and she got so much better at it! her coloring is way better than mine and is so her, y’know? i see a gifset and don’t need to look at the source because i know it’s hers.

my recommendation would be to post your gifs without expectations if it doesn’t get notes that’s fine if it does that’s fine too! think of it as an archive or portfolio where you can look back at where you started and see how much you’ve improved. anon if you post gifs, please don’t hesitate to tag me, i will gladly reblog it and support you. this goes out to anyone who is a content creator, no matter how big or small.

tl;dr my harsh feelings were directed at two specific posts and i truly am sorry if my words made you feel like you shouldn’t post your content, that was never my intention! anything you create deserves notes as long as you did it because you like it and really enjoy it if that was the best you could do in that moment then kudos to you!

#answered #sorry for the long response i hope this clears things and i don't come off a pretentious bitch??#also this took so long because a) tumblr didn't notify me #b) i was eating and didn't want to answer this on the phone #anon #apparently on mobile the read more is not showing so #long post #i guess???

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notimetoblog · 7 years ago

Text

Not Happening (Pt.4)

Summary: An online dating site clearly makes a mistake when it matches you with the one person you cannot stand.

A/N: A bit of a longer chapter!! I hope you guys enjoy it! As always thanks so much for all your support and for reading!

PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 / MY STORIES

There was something running through your body that you could not quite place. Maybe it was the need to finally shut both of your friends up. Or, a more plausible option, it was the dread of having to spend the night with Bucky. Part of you kept hoping he would pull one of his trademark douche moves, and just ditch you before his “tour” began.

A genuine smile spread on your lips as you noticed Steve had joined Bucky where he was still waiting, in front of the first image of the gallery.

“Hi Steve,” you greeted him with a hug. He looked dashing, but to be honest when didn’t he look just downright gorgeous? He wore a blue button-down shirt that brought out the cool tone of his eyes and was .2 seconds from ripping at the seams thanks to his enormous biceps. His blonde hair was swept to one side, leaving his face clear from any stray hairs. The same could not be said about Bucky, who’s hair despite being tied back in a manbun, had stubborn strands draping in front of his face.

“Hey Y/N, nice to see you. You look great,” he complimented you with a warm smile.

Why couldn’t the algorithm match you with someone like Steve? A kind and gentle soul who treated everybody with love and respect. He was an amazing guy, and you had never seen him as anything but a friend, yet the thought still lingered. Would you be able to find someone as sweet and kind as him or would you be destined to be with a rude and obnoxious jerk like Bucky? Craig’s algorithm was currently not tipping the balance in your favor.

“You ready?” Bucky interjected, flicking his eyes between you and Steve.

“No,” you replied with a serious tone making sure he understood how much spending any amount of extended time with him pained you.

“What’s happening here?” Steve asked with a grin, his eyebrows quirked up in amusement. “Are you two finally playing nice? Can I stop planning around your constant bickering?”

“Don’t be too optimistic Rogers. I doubt your buddy here will ever stop being an ass.”

Bucky scoffed, his eyes rolling comically to make his opinion on your statement even more apparent. “I’m trying to help you here and you still call me an ass? What do I have to do to get you to at least stop insulting me for an hour?”

“Stop being an ass should do the trick,” you said, throwing in a wink. “And I wouldn’t call this ‘helping me’. If anything, you’ll drive me away from ever coming back to another gallery.”

“See,” Bucky looked to Steve. “I offer to provide some of my insightful behind-the-scenes knowledge of the gallery to her, a gallery newbie, and she treats me like this.”

“What can I say, pal,” Steve chuckled lightly. “You do have a lot of ass-like behavior to make up for.”

“You don’t even know what he made me go through tonigh—”

“Ok!” Bucky interrupted. “Steve enjoy your night,” he waved him away, “Maybe you can spend it with Nat and Wanda. And you,” he pointed towards you, “let’s get this over with.”

“You don’t have to do this Barnes,” you said, and you swore there was a lightbulb over your head flashing on as an idea popped into your mind. Maybe you could drive him away before this even began. “I am more than capable of looking at a few pictures on my own. Maybe Steve can help me.”

“Shouldn’t be too big a deal,” Steve shrugged sending another gentle smile your way.

“No,” Bucky said, almost too quickly. “We’re doing this now. Bye Steve.”

“Ok then,” Steve laughed as he put up his hands in surrender.

Out of all days, Bucky chose today to keep his promises.

“Have fun, you two. I hope I’m in no way implicated in whatever murder happens here tonight,” Steve continued to laugh as he walked away in search of Nat and Wanda.

“Ok,” Bucky began, he took a deep breath as if preparing for something major. “This here is a photograph –”

“Wow!” you faked amazement. “I would’ve spent all night unable to figure out what I was looking at if it weren’t for you.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” he said through gritted teeth. His usually sharp jawline accentuated even more as he tensed it. “You need to listen a little in order for this to work.”

“Fine,” you conceded.

“So, as I was saying this is a photograph of a waterfall. Without looking at the label, can you tell me where it is?”

You suppressed your first instinct to peek at the artwork label that hung at the right side of the image. Your eyes scanned the image hoping to find any clue that would shed some light on the location of the waterfall. The water flowed over what looked to be an artificial wall covered in oversized and mismatched blocks of concrete, the sunlight soft. Green shrubbery framed the image and the waterfall making the white of the rushing water stand out. At the bottom, blue and pink flowers bloomed bringing in a hint of color and making this location seem even more paradisiacal. The point of view of the image made the waterfall seem to exist on its own, as if nothing existed beyond it. Everything seemed to begin and end with this waterfall. Wherever this place was, you hoped it wasn’t too expensive to get there because it sure had caught your eye. You could almost feel the cooling breeze that would emit from the waterfall; something that could surely help any bit of stress ease away.

“I don’t know,” you said, noting how the previous interaction with Bucky had all but left your system. The annoyance making way to a much more relaxed you. “But I hope its not too long a trip to get there because it seems amazing.”

“It sure is,” Bucky said, his voice also taking on a calmer tone. “And lucky for you, you could probably be there tonight.”

“Where is it?” you asked, still keeping your eyes away from the label.

“It’s a place called Greenacre Park. Kudos to you for not cheating. And its right here in New York. Midtown to be exact.”

“This is right here?” you asked incredulously, your pointer finger rising on its own to point at the image.

“Yes,” Bucky chuckled, “See, you can learn something from me when you’re not being a brat.”

“And the peace is gone,” you sighed.

“Alright alright,” he said with a smile. “I’ll play nice. Next image.”

“Who is this friend of yours? I’d like to meet the photographer.”

“Oh,” his voiced was laced with surprise. “I’ll introduce him to you once we’re done.”

“Is he here, now? I mean I wouldn’t mind meeting him now.”

“Of course, he’s here. It’s the opening of his gallery,” he said, eyes scanning the room. “Not sure where, but we’ll find him eventually. Anyway, the gallery is set up in a sort of spiral fashion. You look at the images along the outer walls first and then make your way towards the center of the room following the images on the makeshift walls we set up. Let’s see if you catch on to why its arranged like this.”

You observed the way the room was set up. The walls that lined the right, left, and back of the room housed a few images. Towards the front of the room, by the door you had entered from, stood a sort of entry way that resembled the beginning of a maze. These were the makeshift walls that Bucky was referring to. They apparently followed a spiraling pattern and more photographs, that you could not see yet, hung from them. The showpiece of the gallery, Bucky explained, could be seen once you reached the very center of the room.

“I’m sure its not very hard to figure out seeing as you are the mastermind behind it, right?”

“I’m being nice, you brat,” he reminded you, a teasing smile paying on his lips.

“Five minutes of niceness and I’m supposed to be your best friend?” you teased back.

“You could try,” he laughed. “You wouldn’t die, you know.”

“Hey congrats, man,” a short-haired man interrupted. He clapped Bucky’s back as he spoke. “This was amazing.”

“Oh thanks, Quill,” Bucky answered, quickly walking away from the conversation.

“Did you announce to the whole city you supposedly helped plan this thing? Wanted your ego stroked a bit, did we now Bucky?”

“Maybe,” he defended with mock offense. “And I didn’t allegedly plan this thing, I really did plan it out.”

He walked you both over to the next image and asked you to keep your eyes off the label again. You quickly understood that every image was of a spot in New York that wasn’t as known as other more traditional sights in the city. You had discovered an abandoned hospital that you had at first thought to be a European castle. Bucky had chuckled as you had firmly given him your guess for what the image was showing, infusing his response with less of his traditional jerk flare than you had expected. An image of a bridge seemingly ending in what looked like a forest, followed. That bridge was apparently located in Harlem, connecting that area of the city to the Bronx. Surprisingly there was also an image of a portion of the Berlin Wall, tucked a few streets away from the Museum of Modern Art.

And although all the images had been beautiful, something you happened to mention to Bucky when you asked again to meet the photographer, you audibly gasped at the image you were standing in front of now. You had begun to make your way towards the center of the spiral, now observing the photographs that lined the makeshift walls.

“Like this one?” Bucky asked from beside you.

You nodded, unable to form words. In front of you was a beautiful image of what appeared to be a train station. The tracks curved toward the left on one side of the image, disappearing behind a wall that bent along the curvature of the tracks. This curved line drew your eyes to the furthest part of the image only to be drawn back out as you followed the lights that hung from the ceiling. The ceiling was also curved, green and cream tiles decorated the arches on the ceiling creating a beautiful frame for the center piece of the image; a beautiful skylight. Glass tiles littered the skylight. Thick black lines created a puckered diamond shape in the center of each panel. The sunset lighting seeping in from the exterior made this place seem mystical, as if it was from a world that could only exist in your dreams. The chandeliers that hung for the ceiling only emphasized this mystic aura, giving the room a sort of charm that seemed classic and elegant.

You let your eyes dance a bit more around the image finally succumbing to the curiosity and letting them glance at the label.

Old City Hall Station, NY.

“This place looks straight out of a movie,” you said, your eyes returning to the image.

“Right?” Bucky replied, his eyes not on the image but on you. A small smile on his lips as he noticed how drawn in you were.

“How do I get there?” you asked turning to face him, surprised to find him already looking at you.

“Not sure,” he replied with a small shrug. “Guess we’d have to ask my friend. Any idea why I chose to organize the images like this?”

You had understood the theme behind all the images, yet you didn’t know what kind of ‘story’ they were supposed to tell. Bucky had been entirely too proud as he had mentioned, multiple times, how the photographs had been arranged to form a narrative.

Glancing back at the images you could not find another string connecting them other than them being somewhat hidden gems of New York. There were no people photographed, so you couldn’t trace a story line based on individuals. You searched your mind for anything that had stood out in all the photographs but came up short.

“No, not a clue,” you admitted.

A smug smirk spread on his lips and you rolled your eyes, knowing what was coming.

“Thought you would’ve figured it out by now since not-so-bright Bucky organized it.”

“I never called you not-so-bright.”

“Maybe not tonight, but other times you’ve called me far worse.”

“You can’t deny you’ve deserved it. I mean who pulls stunts like the embarrassing one you made me go through tonight?”

A flash of red caught your eye as Bucky began his speech on how he had thought it would be funny to list you as Noah Calhoun’s plus one. A shocked Natasha and Wanda were walking toward you from the center of the room, most likely after seeing the centerpiece of the gallery.

“Bucky!” Wanda interrupted his ongoing speech. “Wow. I mean, I thought I knew what to expect but I really don’t even know what to say.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” Bucky said with a look you couldn’t quite place.

“I mean, props to the photographer,” Nat chimed in. “He really knows his stuff. Loved the last photograph. Any chance I could buy it?”

“I don’t think its for sale,” Bucky replied, his tone too biting for such a quick interaction.

“You sure? Maybe you could ask him? Have him think it over?”

“I’m sure it’s not for sale.”

“Ok,” she backed off, much to your surprise. “Enjoying the tour?” she asked you with a quirked eyebrow. Wanda let out a giggle beside her.

You had forgotten about why you had agreed to spend your time at the gallery with Bucky. Natasha’s reminder brought back the image of Bucky being a great match for you, according to whosyourmate.com .

“It’s not as dreadful as I expected,” you replied honestly. Who knew Bucky could keep his jerk persona locked up for more than five minutes?

“Huh,” Nat pretended to contemplate your answer. You knew very well she would rub it in your face if Bucky wasn’t standing right beside you. “Well we’re so glad you’re enjoying yourself. We’ll be chatting with Steve, take your time.”

“So,” Bucky said as Nat and Wanda walked away. “Want me to tell you or you want some more time to figure it out. You need to have it before we see the last image.”

“So, there was a waterfall, a bridge, the Berlin Wall, a secret subway exit –”

“Oh god! You really are helpless,” Bucky chuckled as you glared at him. “Don’t think about the locations, the story isn’t there.”

You simply stared at him unable to come up with anything.

“You’re such a rookie,” he said, giving a dramatic sigh as he led you to the next image.

“I mean it can’t be that obscure if you came up with it,” you said.

“Yeah, well you already said that and still haven’t figured it out.”

“Well maybe the gallery wasn’t as well-organized as you had imagined. If it had been, I would’ve gotten it by now.”

“Maybe the not-so-bright one is actually you and not me,” he snapped back.

“Highly doubt that,” you replied. “You barely figured out a widely known movie reference.”

“Calhoun? Figured that out almost immediately. Even made him your plus one, didn’t I? Stop making this about me and just admit you’re lost and can’t even begin to understand what I did here.”

“I never understand what you do, Barnes. Your jerk-like mentality just doesn’t go well with mine.”

He scoffed, looking past you at a woman standing in front of the next image. As soon as she noticed his gaze, she turned toward him, a flirtatious look suddenly overtaking her eyes.

“Hey there, James,” she greeted him, reaching out for a hug. He obliged and quickly gave her a side hug. It was always strange to hear him being called by his real name, seemed too mature for him.

“Hi,” he said, eyes darting to you. “This is Y/N. Y/N this is Elle.”

“You look familiar,” she said towards you as you gave her a quick wave. Her eyes moving up and down your figure trying to place you.

“Maybe you ran into her at that coffee place you like so much,” Bucky suggested. “She practically lives there too.”

She suddenly gasped, eyes going wide as a giant smile spread across her face.

“Is everything ok?” you asked a bit worried.

“Everything is fine,” Bucky once again interrupted. “Nice seeing you Elle. Thanks so much for coming. See ya around.”

He abruptly walked you past the image Elle had been standing by and you voiced your disapproval at skipping that image. If you were to figure out this “story” of his it was only fair he would let you see all the images.

“The lighting,” he suddenly said, stopping in front of an image of cemetery surrounded by gothic architecture. “It’s nighttime here, see? It was morning in the first image and the lighting has shifted through all the images as if you’re traveling not only from place to place but also from morning to night.”

Everything fell into place. The soft light in the first image was due to it being morning time and as you went by, time did too in the images. The train station, for example, had been photographed at sunset, something you had actually noted when you observed the way the room appeared dream-like. And now, as you made your way to the end, it was nighttime in the images.

“Now, this last image, you probably will immediately recognize but I still want you to look at the label. And quick question, what comes after night?”

“Morning,” you answered, understanding the images had taken you throughout an entire day in New York, ending at the same ‘time’ it had begun.

You turned the last corner, finally reaching the end of the gallery and your heart dropped at the sight of the last image.

For the first time, a silhouette of a person was present. The image had been taken from behind this person, who sat on a bench, looking out onto an incredibly familiar patch of flowers. Droplets of dew still remained on the leaves of the flowers, creating little sparkles as the morning sunlight hit them. Your eyes bounced from droplet to droplet, trying to wrap your mind around what you were seeing.

The patch of flowers wasn’t just any patch of flowers. It was the patch of flowers that you knew and loved. The one you would walk to and observe when you needed a bit of peace. The one that seemed to drown out the busy and noisy atmosphere of the city and transported you to an imaginary and endless meadow. The one you referred to when asked what your favorite place in the world was.

Your eyes went back to the person that sat on the bench, a figure that was all too recognizable. There you sat, on one of the many times you found yourself at the community garden by your house. The peace this patch of flowers brought to you clearly reflected on your face. Part of your features visible as you looked to the left.

An image of you and your most beloved place in the world was the centerpiece of this gallery, a gallery made up of photographs taken by a still unknown photographer, something the people around you were also noticing as they glanced from you to the image and back again.

In the back of your mind you heard Bucky’s request to look at the label despite already knowing where the photograph was taken.

This time his name stared back at you not in large black letters, but in a small professional bold font.

Photographs by James Barnes

Your hand shot up to cover your mouth. Bucky had been behind all the images? This was his gallery?!

And you had been sure nothing could surprise you more than what you had just discovered, but the words Bucky spoke next sent a chill up your spine surpassing all the chills you had already experienced as you enjoyed the photographs.

“I think whosyourmate.com is onto something. Don’t you?”

PART 5

Bucky Tags

@camillechan @just-add-butter @buckyisthepuresthuman @carry-on-my-fandom @creideamhgradochas @sixweekcure4dreams @verycoolveryunique @dugan365 @jitterbuck @buckysmusculararm @headinthe-fridge @buckybarnesappreciationsociety @hedwigthelegend @sappybarnes @sold-my-soul-in-2016 @coal000 @the-soldiers @natcad @winters-beauty @dixonsbugaboo @sawdustandsugar @silverbvcky @whyugottabsorude @theoutlinez @killjoynotes @agentpegcxrter @demonspawn2468 @mlehbleh @books-movies-eternal @buckysbeech @thefridgeismybestie @lionheo04 @pinkfairyfluff @imaginecrushes @cauraphernelia @angieptt @fridolf-arach @nerdgirljen @ifyousayyouloveme

“Not Happening” Tags

@metalarmlover @starkxpotts @nephalem67 @boyzines @starfisharchives @crazybutconfidentaf @dyanna-corona @fangedmutant @talinalani @xi-i-i-whatsyouremergency @friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen @wisestydia-15 @curlypeter @jayattemptstoruletheworld @justreadingthesefanfics @missinstantgratification @swtmckngbrd @deathbyarabbit @whogaveuspermission @thespottedwolf-blog @buckwhitewolf @bilesxbilinskixlahey @ireallyneedcoolusername

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky #Modern!AU #stories by notimetoblog

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quentinsquill · 6 years ago

Text

Fic: “I Know What You Grew This Summer” (The Magicians)

I Know What You Grew This Summer

Author: Lexalicious70

Fandom: The Magicians

Pairing: Eliot/Quentin

Rating: PG

Word Count: 2,181

Summary: Quentin returns from summer break after his first semester at Brakebills sporting a fresh look, but Eliot declares war on his friend’s bold new fashion choice that leads to a winner-take-all bet.

A/N: All this because Jason Ralph grew a mustache. I don’t own The Magicians, this is just for fun. Comments and kudos are magic! Enjoy.

Read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18761473

I Know What You Grew This Summer

By Lexalicious70 (jagged_little_quill)

“What in the name of Cher and all her fucking Bob Mackie outfits am I looking at?”

Margo glanced up from locking the clasp on her new leather bag at Eliot’s dismayed tone. Quentin was walking toward them, fresh off his summer break in Brooklyn and a visit with his parents. He was dressed in his usual dad jeans and baggy sweater despite the 80-degree day, that floppy hair, and—oh.

“Oh, hell no,” She intoned, and Eliot made a strangled sound in his throat and bobbed his head as Quentin swung up to them as they loitered outside the main building of Brakebills.

“Hey guys!” Quentin raised a hand before lifting his chin and turning his head in what Margo was sure he thought was a model’s pose. Eliot lifted an accusatory finger.

“And just what the fuck is that on your upper lip, Quentin?”

“What do you think it is?” Quentin preened. “It’s a mustache! I grew it over the summer.”

“You couldn’t grow organic kush in a windowsill planter like the rest of the first years?” Eliot asked, and Quentin ran a finger over it.

“I like it! I think it makes me look mature.”

“In a ‘this is a photo of my porn-collecting uncle via 1976,’ sort of way, yes,” Eliot observed. Margo rolled her eyes.

“Are we going to stand in the sun and get melanoma over this, or can we go inside?”

“We can go inside,” Eliot allowed, “but Quentin, decency and—aesthetics—demand that you leave that thing out here!”

“You’re just jealous!” Quentin countered, adjusting the strap of his messenger bag as he followed Margo and Eliot into the building, where they shared their first Practical Applications class of the semester. He flounced past them, and Eliot narrowed his eyes. Margo gave an internal groan.

“El . . .”

“This will not stand,” the tall magician intoned. “The mustache must die!”

****

“So how hard did Penny laugh when he saw you?”

Quentin lifted a shoulder as he helped himself to a glass of Chablis. The party Eliot and Margo were throwing to celebrate the new semester was in full swing, and Quentin had to raise his voice to answer Margo’s question.

“Yeah, he laughed, but honestly? I don’t care! I like how it looks! What’s wrong with a change once in a while?” He asked, and Eliot glided over to them, a drink in one hand.

“How hard did Penny laugh when he saw you?”

“I already asked him that, catch up,” Margo replied, sipping her wine.

“Well if he did, he would have been fully within his rights. Facial hair is revolting.”

“That’s an opinion, not a fact!” Quentin refilled his glass. He realized he was drinking much more than he had over the summer and it was going to his head, but Eliot’s words rankled him. “In fact, I bet if I took a poll in here right now, more than half would say they think mustaches are sexy!”

“A bet? All right.” Eliot nodded and set down his drink. “But if we’re going to bet, Let’s make it more interesting than some silly poll.”

“What do you mean?”

Eliot held up a long, slender index finger. “Here’s my proposal: If I win, you have to shave off your mustache and vow that you’ll never grow facial hair in my presence again.”

“Fine!” Quentin countered. “And if I win, I get to keep my mustache—and, uhm—you have to grow one too!”

Margo blinked.

“I have to say I’m impressed!”

“Don’t humor the boy, Bambi.” Eliot sighed and stuck out his hand. “You’ve got a bet, Quentin. And to show you I’m a generous man, I’m going to let you choose what we bet on. Go on . . .”

Quentin downed his wine and let his mind race unfettered. He considered and rejected a few options, knowing that Eliot had experience and an almost effortless talent when it came to magic. He stuck his hands in his pockets to keep from flapping them and his fingers touched the edge of a new pack of playing cards. He tugged them out and held them up.

“A house of cards contest!” He said at last. “Whoever builds the tallest house of cards before one falls down is the winner. And no magic or telekinesis is allowed!” He added, making Eliot raise a brow.

“All right, Q.” He turned to a few of the other cottage residents. “Clear the coffee table and grab me my roll of parchment paper from the kitchen. We should at least have a stable foundation to build on.”

“Fair,” Quentin nodded as he opened the deck and slid the cards into his hand. The feel of the slippery coated surface calmed his nerved and he shuffled them to keep his hands busy. A few first years gathered around to watch, making murmured noises of amazement. Todd brought Eliot the parchment roll as two other kids cleared the coffee table of empty wine glasses, shot glasses, ashtrays, and dessert plates with half-eaten pastries on them. Eliot eyed the table and tore off a long piece of parchment, which he used to cover the table. Someone produced a few rubber bands to secure it, and Quentin set the stack of cards on the table.

“Let’s review the rules,” he said as Eliot sat across from him. “No using magic. No help from anyone in the room. No bumping the table or ‘accidental’ sneezes.” He paused to smooth down his mustache. “If we run out of cards, Margo will bring more down from my room.”

“Oh, now I’m involved?” She asked, and Quentin shrugged.

“Okay, Todd can bring them.”

“Fuck that!” She protested as Todd began to speak and gave him an imperious look that made him snap his mouth shut. “I just prefer to be asked, Q.”

“Will you bring more cards down if we run out?”

“Why not?” She sat down next to Eliot. “I don’t think this will take too long . . . Eliot has talented hands.”

“I don’t want to know how you know that.” Quentin cut the deck evenly. “Tallest house wins, no limit on design.”

“Go!” Todd shouted, then shrank back as Eliot gave him a withering expression over one shoulder. “I thought you needed . . . you know. Like a starter—no, okay, sorry.” He stepped back and Eliot focused on his stack of cards. The party music Margo put on earlier continued to thump its dance club baseline, but now most of the partygoers were gathering around the table to watch. Conversation died out as Eliot and Quentin began building their houses. Eliot went with a triple-T foundation that allowed him to spread cards out as a roof for the second floor while Quentin chose a triangular shape that allowed him to build up the height quickly. Eliot stacked another floor on top of the first, hoping that the wider foundation would give him more stability. Quentin touched and stroked his mustache in a way that Eliot found extremely distracting, and at one point, Margo gave him a rough poke in the upper arm.

“Keep your head in the game, damn it! Or do you want to go around campus looking like the Willy Wonka version of Tom Selleck?”

I know, I’m trying!” Eliot hissed back. Money was being passed back and forth among the spectators now, and Eliot felt sweat building on the back of neck and dampening his armpits. The last CD in the nearby carousel ended, but no one moved to restart it. A weird, tense hush fell over the common room and Eliot paused to remove his tie and unbutton the first few buttons on his paisley shirt. Quentin caught his eye, smiled in a smug way that made Eliot want to slap his insolent, pretty mouth, and rose to add the next layer to his house. It was five stories now compared to Eliot’s three, and he’d added cards in T shapes around the base to make a fence. Margo brought down two more packs of cards from Quentin’s room and unboxed them in front of the crowd to prove she hadn’t cast on them. Quentin cut both decks and Eliot willed his hands not to shake as he took his stack. Was his house crooked? Was it leaning? How slick were the new cards? Eliot ran a hand over his mouth and flicked a glance at Quentin. He was adding his seventh floor, the house nearly as tall as he was. He leaned forward, peering at the floor of the previous stack, and the strings of the hoodie he wore swung outward and struck the base cards of the third floor. The house fell down with a rustling patter, and Quentin blinked before he tossed down the two he held in his hand.

“Interference!” He shouted, and Eliot smiled and placed his chin on steepled fingers.

“Not from me, Q.”

“But it didn’t fall! It got knocked down from an outside source!”

“You said whoever could build the tallest house without it collapsing was the winner.” Eliot gestured to his house, still standing. “Looks like that’s me.”

Quentin kicked the nearest leg of the table, causing Eliot’s house to fall, before he turned and fled up the stairs to catcalls from the crowd. Margo herded them toward the door.

“Go on, go settle your bets somewhere else! This isn’t the OTB window.” She shut the door as the last guest slipped out and then turned to Eliot. “I almost feel sorry for the kid.”

Eliot sighed and fetched a bottle of moscato from the wet bar.

“I’ll go talk to him.”

“Proceed with caution,” Margo said as she cast a cleaning spell on the common room. “He’s probably pricklier than a bear with a nutsac full of thorns!”

“Noted!” Eliot called back over his shoulder as he reached the landing and knocked on Quentin’s door. “Q? Can I come in?”

“No!” Quentin shouted from the other side. “Piss off!”

“Quentin, you’re being a very sore loser,” Eliot observed, and Quentin jerked the door open to glare at Eliot.

“I didn’t lose! The string on my hoodie knocked my house down! You should have let me have a do-over!”

“Do-overs are for people who can’t honor the rules of the games they play.”

“Another pearl of wisdom from Eliot Waugh!” Quentin snapped before he stomped back into his room. Eliot blocked the door with his foot before Quentin could slam it in his face, stepped into the room, and set the bottle of wine down.

“You agreed to bet. I even let you pick the challenge.”

“Oh, how noble of you! I’ll be sure to get the medal engraved right away.”

“That hideous thing on your upper lip make you look mature, but it’s sure not stopping you from being a gigantic pissbaby.”

“What is your fucking issue with me growing a mustache?” Quentin asked, his voice rising. “Do you have some kind of mustache trauma? Are you afraid it’ll get me more attention than you? Come on, Eliot, tell me the truth! Why did you agree to this stupid fucking bet?”

“Because your mouth is too fucking pretty!” Eliot shouted back. “Because I can’t see your Goddamn upper lip and the way it curves and makes me want to fucking beg you for head! Because I want to kiss you, not hair!”

Quentin stared at Eliot in the silence that followed the echo of his shout. He stuttered out a few sounds and Eliot waited, knowing the truth was heavy to process.

“You want to kiss me?” Quentin asked at last. Eliot scoffed.

“You really haven’t been paying attention, have you? Yes, Quentin, I do. I have, nearly from the moment you stumbled out of that hedge and asked me if you were hallucinating.”

“Am I hallucinating now?” Quentin asked, and Eliot felt something small and scared loosen in his chest.

“No, Q.” He stepped closer. “You’re not.”

“So . . . you’re saying if I shave, you’ll still want to kiss me?”

“Most definitely.”

Quentin’s gaze ticked to the floor before it flicked back to meet Eliot’s eyes, like a nervous hummingbird attracted to a pretty, vibrant flower.

“El?”

“Hmm?”

“Got any shaving cream I can borrow?”

***

“Well well, look who it is!” Penny crowed as Quentin walked in Practical Applications class with Eliot and Margo, his upper lip bare. “Heard all about your house of cards bet! How’s it feel to be the big loser?”

Quentin tilted his head to one side in thought before turning to Eliot and rising up onto his tiptoes to give him a long, warm kiss on the mouth. Eliot slipped his arms around his smaller partner and returned it with a sigh as Penny watched, his dark eyes sprung wide. The other kids began to clap and wolf whistle, and Margo grinned at the sight. Quentin pulled back after a moment, touched Eliot’s face, and then smiled at Penny over his shoulder.

“Feels pretty fucking fantastic.”

FIN

#my fic #Queliot #The Magicians

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violyntfemme · 6 years ago

Text

2018 Fic Year in Review

@perpetuallyvex tagged me. Thanks, sweetie. I love this!

1. Number of stories (including drabbles) posted to AO3: 4

2. Word count posted for the year: 220,834 (although, to be fair, you’ve become all that i’ve lost was mostly written in 2017, but this asks for fics posted in 2018 so I’ll include it)

3. List of works published this year (in order of posting):

1. you’ve become all that i’ve lost (Harry Hart/Eggsy Unwin, Explicit, Word Count: 106,457) - Being a handler does not have the same sense of pride that being the darling of Kingsman, Agent Galahad, did. Harry feels useless with his shaking hands and missing eye, a feeling that threatens to send him chasing a bottle of pain pills with a goodly amount of whiskey. He is thrilled when he finds a new sense of purpose in taking care of Eggsy, the man he loves, when he comes home hurt after a mission. Harry, finally feeling like he is someone of worth again, becomes determined to hold on to it, and Eggsy, anyway that he can.

2. i’ve found the one whom my soul loves (Merlin/Harry Hart, Explicit, Word Count: 108,630) - Although it's been a year, Ian still grieves like it was yesterday. Part 3 of the kiss me series.

3. Blanker Permission (Harry Hart/Eggsy Unwin, Mature, Word Count: 4226) -

“Oh yeah? Who’s coming over then?”

“Merlin has graciously accepted my request for a temporary care-giver.”

“Merlin.”

“Yes.”

“The man who drops people out of airplanes so he can laugh while they scream.”

“He is a very good caretaker, Eggsy.”

“The man who drowns rooms full of people for kicks. The man who, after I had a full body bruise from being thrown into a wall, gave me a bear hug. Him?”

4. painting the roses red (Harry Hart/Eggsy Unwin, Mature, Word Count: 1521) - “I was just looking out the window and I must say your garden is looking lovelier than ever.”

“Yeah, it’s cause of all the blood,” Eggsy says, grinning again, far too many teeth showing for it to be friendly.

“Pardon?”

4. Fandoms I wrote for: Kingsman

5. Pairings: Main Parings - Merlin/Harry Hart, Harry Hart/Eggsy Unwin. Secondary - Merlin/Percival, Harry Hart/Tequila, Eggsy Unwin/Tilde

6. Story with the most hits: you’ve become all that i’ve lost with 2839 hits.

7. Story with the most kudos: you’ve become all that i’ve lost with 120.

8. Story with the most comments: you’ve become all that i’ve lost with 89 comment threads.

9. Work I’m most proud of (and why): I am most proud of i’ve found the one whom my soul loves. It’s not my most popular but I love Harry and Ian (Merlin) and the universe they exist in. It was so enjoyable to bend that story to fit around canon, especially since the canon from K2 was so woefully horrible.

10. Work I’m least proud of (and why): As Vex said, I love all my babies. They were all exactly what I needed them to be when I needed them to be it.

11. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

“Ian,” Harry calls, “come over here and tell me what you think of this lamp.”

Ian does as he is bid. He looks at the lamp. He finds that he cannot tell Harry what he thinks about it because if he does, Harry will beat him with it. Drinking himself to death seems a good option again.

“It’s very you.”

Harry smiles, pleased. “I thought so as well. I think it has a matching sister. I should ask the owner.”

“Two of them. A blessing from the heavens.”

“You hate it.”

“With the burning passion of a thousand suns.”

“I suppose you would be happy if we decorated the house with items purchased at Best Buy.”

“It would be a marked improvement on dusty relics that were ugly even when Lizzie the Virgin was on the throne.”

12. Share or describe a favorite review you received: I’m not going to share the actual review because I don’t want to embarrass anyone, but a mutual left me a review on i’ve found the one whom my soul loves while they were inebriated and it makes me laugh to this day. It was so cute and pure and I look at it whenever I need a good laugh.

13. A time when writing was really, really hard: I have a neurological condition that gives me terrible cognitive issues and a lot of pain. There were times I was typing with a brain that was mush and hands that hurt so bad I could barely move them but the characters would not STFU so it had to come out or risk losing the scene into the mushy recesses of my brain forever.

14. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you: I LOVED writing Tequila and Whiskey in i’ve found the one whom my soul loves. LOVED them, especially Tequila. I specifically left their storyline open ended so I could come back to them later if I wanted to. I also love writing Percival because he’s such a sweetheart and deserves more love.

15. How did you grow as a writer this year: I grew in confidence in my won abilities and learned that the number of kudos or comments does not equal the value my writing has.

16. How do you hope to grow next year: I am working on original fiction and hope to have a the novel, the first in a series of three, well underway by the end of the year. I am currently world building and character developing right now, but it’s really coming together and has some scenes written already.

17. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc): The people who read, comment and leave kudos really don’t understand how each and every one warms a writer’s heart. We pour so much into those fics, to have someone share something they loved or click that kudos button is such a mood booster. You guys don’t even know.

18. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year: There is a lot of my real personality quirks, good and bad, in my characters. Considering the traits most of my characters have, I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.

19. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers: Your first draft is always crap. Nothing makes sense, people are OOC, there is spelling errors, crap dialogue, and plot holes big enough to drive a truck into. Don’t worry about it. Write it. Get it all out so everyone will stop talking in your head. Then, once they shut the fuck up, go back and edit it. That’s when it really comes together.

20. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year: I am working on Part 4 of kiss me, which will be much shorter than the previous installments. I am about 3K words in and I am thinking it will be 10K maybe? I hope to have it up by the end of the month or the middle of next if it gets longer than I think it will be. I am also working on my original fiction, see question 16.

21. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read: I don’t know who is writing any more, but I will tag:

@fitzawkwarddarcy, @opalescentgold, @thegaypumpingthroughyourveins, @elrhiarhodan

because I am pretty sure you all put out some fics this year :)

Best tag game ever!

#2018 fic review #kingsman #my fics #merlahad #hartwin

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mintchocolateleaves · 6 years ago

Note

What about a ShinRan CoF AU where Shinichi doesn’t escape and things go according to Vermouth’s plan?

A/N: Wow, this is long! I’m naming it, ‘Tighten the Noose’ and yeah. It’s painful. Since the whole Vermouth’s plan is revealed, if you haven’t read the ch38 of CoF, and you’re the type who doesn’t want that spoiler, I’d say, catch up first. This is actually the Bad End AU for CoF.

Summary: Vermouth’s plan for Shinichi is carried out with a high success. (If you think this has a happy ending, you haven’t been paying attention.) Bad End AU.

Shinichiknows what comes next.

(Next?He’s going to die but does he know what comes after that? Of course not.)

Therewill be a rope, tied together in the form of a noose. It will hang over a floorthat will open up, and there will be no one he loves there to say goodbye.

He willsing happy birthday under his breath and be unable to finish the songbecause the rope will steal away the breath.

His eyeswill be dull. His body will go cold. And his already bruised body will sufferone final bruise, as either his neck snaps or his body asphyxiates.

This iswhat will happen next. It’s the way these things work. An organisation framinghim, cutting away the threat before it can cut into them.

They putthe noose around Shinichi’s neck, but he doesn’t fall. The floor opens up, butonly for someone else.

KudoShinichi dies, but he is not dead.

He issupposed to be dead.

Butthat’s not what happens.

“It’s adilemma you see,” The man who was once Shinichi says, stirring his coffee witha small wooden stirrer. “I don’t know whether a dead man is free, or forever aprisoner.”

He feelsmore like a prisoner these days. Case files are skewed in front of him. Namesthat one alcohol has helped him get.

But in away, isn’t he also free? Free from the bonds holding him back, free from theguilt of people he’s been forced to leave behind?

No,that’s a lie.

Theguilt never leaves. It’s why he’s a prisoner. Emotion is his shackle.

“The funnypart of the dilemma though,” The man who is no longer Shinichi says, “is thatthe only person who could answer that question for me, is one I can’t see.”

Her. Theone who thinks he is dead. Who knows that he is dead.

Thefinal one who believed in him.

A ruffleof wings, and the bird he’s talking to flies away. He watches the pigeon go.The bird is free, at least. Not much of a prisoner, if you have wings and anopen cage.

The cageis open. But it is also familiar.

Now thathe’s left it - he wants to go back.

Fingerstapping against the counter, he watches, staring out at the world, thinkingabout nothing and everything. Thinking about too much and too little.

Hisphone rings. It’s not a number he recognises.

Shinichipresses ignore.

Hisphone remains lit up, his phone background on display. He stares at it,dismisses the notification of his missed call and stares past the number of thetime, past the date, focusing only on his background.

It’s asimple one. Something from a child’s nursery - pink rolling clouds, which leadsout into a lilac sky. Behind it, drawn in white ink, are undetailed planets andstars, all of variating sizes.

Shinichiwatches it. It doesn’t change, it never does, but it’s calming. Even as simpleas the background is, it offers at least a small release from reality into theclouds. Somewhere that he’s not.

“Shinichi- will you please stop ignoring my calls.”

He looksup. Ran. Mouri Ran. He’d been hers once - and maybe, maybe she’d been his oncetoo. He doesn’t know. Sometimes, he thinks she was. Other days he knows shewasn’t, and most of the time, he’s left in a perpetual state of confusion, notknowing which option is the truth.

There isare too many truths, after all.

“I’mnot ignoring you,” Shinichi says, looking up. He can’t meet her eyes, butthat’s alright. It’s the norm - Kudo Shinichi has trouble meeting most people’seyes these days. It hurts to see the emotions inside.

(Willthey echo back his own? Or will they be so different to his own that he can’teven fathom how to read them?)

“Bullshit,”Ran says. He jumps with the harshness of the words. She’s angry at him? He’snot even done anything wrong. “I literally just watched you pressignore.”

“DidI?“ Shinichi says. He pauses, looks down at his phone and clicks histongue. "I don’t have your number saved, so it just looks random."

"Giveme your phone,” Ran says, and because it’s easier to just give in than toargue, he does. He mutters his code, waits until she unlocks it and then turnsback to the table. She lets out a small sigh, not exasperated - it seems sadder,than anything. She says, “you don’t have any numbers saved here.”

“No,”Shinichi agrees.

(Paranoiahad wrapped around him when he’d been gifted a more permanent phone. Any numberhe put inside would be linked to him, linked to danger and that is a risk thatcannot be taken, no way, not when the danger is-)

“There,”Ran says, passing the phone back. She says, “I put my number in. AndHattori’s - he’s been asking me to see you again since we found out that-”

That heisn’t dead. That he didn’t hang.

Thatthe noose was placed, but only strategically, because the threat is always moreterrifying than the action.

“Isee,” Shinichi says. He presses his finger against the table, appliesforce until his fingertip is white, pale. Then, he bends the bone the otherway, digging his nail into the small notches. “Two numbers in myphone.”

“Nowyou have no excuse to dodge my calls,” Ran says. She offers a smile, buthe avoids it, focuses on the concrete instead.

“No,”Shinichi agrees again, “not if I have the numbers in my phone.”

Heconsiders deleting them. Not even present in the phone for a minute but decidesagainst it. Even if he deletes the numbers, they’re still going to be in thephone’s memory somewhere anyway.

It’sprobably just better to get a new phone.

Butdoing that and deleting numbers will just make Ran mad, and Shinichi doesn’twant her to cry. He presses on and watches his background again. Ran pulls up achair, settles next to him.

She restsher hand on the arm of Shinichi’s chair, a silent invitation, should he want totake it, and follows his gaze to the phone’s background.

“Yourwallpaper,” Ran says, “I like it."

"It’scalming,” Shinichi says.

He doesn’ttake her hand. But he wants to.

“Whatdo you mean I continue the case,” Shinichi says, squinting across atVermouth. Legally, he’s been dead for hours now, but it feels almost like alifetime. He brushes his hand against his neck, flinches away when he realisesit’s not snapped. “It’s literally killed me.”

Thewoman purses her lips. For the first time since he’s known her - which, coincidentally,is only their fourth conversation - she crosses her arms and gives him a lookthat can only be described as absent.

“Youhave the perfect opportunity now to start digging.”

“Digging?”Shinichi breathes. The words are strangled in his throat. “Digging intothe case? It killed me. I’m dead.”

“KudoShinichi is dead.” Vermouth says. “Socially, you’re dead. Legally,you’ve been left hanging, and any life you had before is going to be buriedwith someone who’s not you. But the silver bullet is still alive.”

Thesilver bullet?

That’swhat she wants him to be? Fuck that. No - this isn’t fair.

“You’reasking too much from me,” Shinichi says. He swallows down spit even if hismouth is dry and it tastes like blood. “This is too much, I can’t- I can’t-”

“Ifyou don’t do it, Shinichi-kun,” Vermouth says, leaning forward andcapturing his cheeks in a pincer-like grip, “then we’ll have to wait forsomeone else. Some other silver bullet who’s in a position where theirrelationships will be ruined, their lives torn to shreds.”

Shinichifeels woozy. He sways on his feet, “Let them do it. I’m done.”

Herfrown is enough to freeze his blood. The expression holds for a few days, then,she frees his face, pushes him back and turns her back on him.

“You’rein shock. I’ve set up a safehouse - we will stay there for a few days while youadjust to this, and then you will decide. But not until you’ve settled intothis.”

Shinichidoes not want to settle.

He stopsdreaming.

Silverbullets are inanimate objects, and so they aren’t capable of dreaming. Andmaybe he’s human, but he doesn’t quite feel like one. Not anymore.

No,human beings are social beings. They belong as a member of a group, a part of acrowd. Meanwhile, a silver bullet interacts with no one but the one he shootsdown.

“It’swhy you’re in the best position,” Vermouth had told him, during their weektogether. “When you’re dead, when you have no identity, there’s no bonds holdingyou to other people. It will be difficult, but Kudo Shinichi had people theorganisation could leverage against you. The silver bullet doesn’t.”

She won’tlet him have her number. And he doesn’t let her have his. She leaves him aletter filled with numbers - co-ordinates - and the keys to the safehouse andtells him that they probably won’t meet again.

And ifthey do, they’ll be on the other side.

Thehospital walls aren’t white.

Shinichidoesn’t know why he’s expecting them to be white, but they are and it’sstrange. Odd. Maybe because white is such a sterile colour, because it’s meantto be a healing colour, but the corridors are a soft green.

Maybethe people here don’t need the blank white, but a colour on the canvas.Something to offer them a little hope.

(That’sa word Shinichi’s been thinking of lately. Hope. Ran had written it on a smallcard and placed it on his mantlepiece, aside the card she’d written out for thebirthday’s she’d missed. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twentieth. Twenty-first and now,his twenty-second.)

Hepresses a small button, waits for access into the ward.

Buzzedin, he heads forward, scans the board for a name. He bites his lip, followstowards the second bay, towards bed five. It’s quiet, even with nurses anddoctors bustling around. Physios handing over, social workers coming in and out.

Thecurtains are drawn, and so the moment he walks into the bay, he makes eyecontact with the man he is visiting.

Darkhair, tanned skin and days old stubble.

“Kudo,”Hattori Heiji offers a small smile, lifts up his hand into a wave. The drip moveswith him, and Shinichi focuses on the man’s cannula. “Ya reallycame.”

“Isaid I would,” Shinichi says. He tears his gaze from the drip, looks atthe bandage on Hattori’s other arm. His left leg is bandaged as well. He says,“You look… well?”

Abovehis left eye, Hattori’s head is bandaged. There’s a dressing that leads fromhis left cheek, down his jawline, halfway down his neck.

“I’mgettin’ there,” the Osakan seems to wave it away before Shinichi can bringany question to it. Not that Shinichi needs to ask - Ran had filled him in,when she’d demanded he visit.

Sleepdeprivation and a motorbike.

Thecircumstances could have been a lot worse.

“Enoughabou’ me,” Hattori continues. He squirms in his seat, winces at the suddenmovement. Even two weeks after his first surgery, the pain is still present.“Wha’ about you. How’re ya?”

Shinichibites his lip and tries to think. He’d been honest with Hattori in the past,but they’d been kids once. Now, they’re both adults, and Hattori is dealing withhis own shit. He doesn’t need Shinichi’s.

But -Hattori was the one person who got close enough to the truth.

“I'm…”He tries to find the words. They vibrate in his lungs, scrape as they worktheir way up, so he wishes them away, finds easier ones.

“Isaved your number, and Ran’s into my phone. And I’ve got this wallpaper on myphone that’s nice and-” He pauses. “-and I took up the violinagain.”

HattoriHeiji is not a stupid man.

He was achild detective who found missing cats, and then he grew into a teen detectivewho solved murders. Now a police officer - soon to be official detective - he’salways been smart.

So, hedoes what Shinichi wants him to do.

He readsbetween the lines, sees more than a few hopeful statements and sobers up. Hishalf-smile falls away, and for a moment, Shinichi looks up and meets his eye.The emotions are almost too much, but the way Hattori is holding his gaze -unflinching, unwavering - makes him unable to look away.

“I’msorry,” Hattori says, “that I wasn’t of any help to you. I’m sorrytha’ I couldn’t find a way to get you outta tha’ prison, that I didn’t catch onsooner tha’ you were framed. That I couldn’t prove to anyone else that youwere.”

“Hattori-”

“It’s- I know I could’ve done more. I should’ve done more. But I didn’t.”Hattori presses his lips together. “And I’m sorry.”

“You-”Shinichi shakes his head. “Quit apologising. It’s unnecessary. Don’t- Idon’t want an apology.”

Hattoriblinks, eyes wide.

“Astranger-” Shinichi whispers, “you were a stranger and yet youbelieved that I didn’t do it. In those last days before I turned eighteen, Ihad no one. No one but you.”

Hattorilifts his unbandaged arms up and rubs at his face. His cheeks are wet.

Shinichidoes not have the decency to look away.

“Youwere a stranger, and then you were my friend.” Shinichi says. “Pleasedon’t apologise for being my friend.”

Hattorirubs away more tears, and after a few minutes of silence, he lets out a smalllaugh and says, “I’m so glad you’re not dead.”

A silverbullet is not designed to travel far distances.

They’reslow, and generally less accurate than lead bullets, but they’re effective infolklore. Against werewolves and things that don’t - or rather, should not -exist in the physical world, they’re one of the only things that kill.

The onlything that puts a stop to things.

In a way,a silver bullet is a metaphor.

Penicillinis a silver bullet against infection. Fingerprint recognition is a silverbullet against criminals going free. Information is a silver bullet againstignorance.

KudoShinichi is the silver bullet, against the black organisation.

Silverbullets might not physically be effective, but it is the sentiment behind the bulletthat matters, not the bullet itself. The illusion of being stronger thansomething else, is what matters. Maybe they are a myth - but the myth is onethat gives hope. That promises one day the bad will make way for somethinggood.

Maybethat’s why Vermouth gave him the nickname. Maybe he is her hope, of a daywithout the organisation that she joined as a teenager and remains a hostage indecades later.

(Except…some people are allergic to penicillin. Fingerprints can be rubbed away orplaced. Information can sometimes breed more ignorance.

KudoShinichi might not manage.)

“You're…”Ran’s voice is breathless. Shinichi doesn’t like it when he takes her breathaway, not anymore, not when he knows how cruel it is not to let someonebreathe. “You’re not dead?”

He wantsto say that he’s quite clearly alive since he’s standing in front of her, sincehe’s not an apparition, but he doesn’t think Ran would appreciate that.Instead, he dips his head, mutters that he’s alive and that he thought sheshould know.

“I…I thought you were gone,” Ran says, voice wavering. “I had to helpbury you, I had to get over you, and you weren’t ever… gone?”

Shinichican’t look her in the eye.

“Iknow,” Shinichi mutters, “I’m sorry. I - If I’d have known, I wouldhave let you know but we both thought-”

“Wait,”Ran says, “what do you mean you didn’t know?”

Hesquirms under the pressure of her gaze.

“Youdidn’t plan a way out?” Ran realises, “like all of us, you thoughtyou were- and then. Then how could you tell us, because everyone thoughtand…”

It’s asif she can’t find all the pieces in the puzzle, is stuck trying to rearrangethem by the look of the picture on the box. Almost seeing but not quite.Instead, she shakes her head, races forward and traps him in an embrace.

Shinichitries not to flinch.

He doesn’tlift his hands up, but he doesn’t push her away either. It’s a start.

Ran’sbreath tickles his cheek. Her arms are warm. She’s very much alive.

“Itdoesn’t matter what I went through when I thought you were gone,” Ransays. “All that matters is you. That you’re alive, that you’re here."

Hedoesn’t feel very alive though. He just feels absent.

"Ispy, with my little eye, someone who ought to be dead.”

Thethief looks him up and down, his gaze cold beneath the monocle, as they bothstand in a small alleyway, a few streets from the man’s heist. Kaitou KID wearswhite, Shinichi is drenched in black, and somehow it seems like their innocenceis incorrectly worn.

“Yes,”Shinichi says. “I take it you know who I am then.”

KIDgives a sharp nod. He crosses his arms, glares at him. A snap of his fingers, aplume of smoke and then, he’s mirroring Shinichi - same look, same hairstyle,same black clothes.

Shinichiisn’t sure if it’s because they’ve got a similar face, or whether the thief canmould masks quickly enough, but it doesn’t matter.

“Iknow what the media knows, at least.” KID shakes his head. “Amurderer sent to prison with a life sentence. The pushed the day of yourhanging pretty early, normally, most people have to wait years.”

Shinichiflinches at the thought of a noose.

“Butobviously that was a lie,” KID continues, frowning, “since nowthere’s a serial killer on the loose.”

A pause.Shinichi feels a shudder rising up his back, burrowing deep into his spine.

“Ididn’t kill anyone,” Shinichi says. “If I were a killer, then I’d becontinuing now that everyone thought I wasn’t capable of continuing, right? ButI’ve not.”

KIDdoesn’t answer. He just watches, raises an eyebrow and asks, “What do youwant from me, Kudo Shinichi?”

It’s thefirst time he’s been called by his name since he died. It feels almostunfamiliar.

“I- I noticed on the news that there are people shooting at you during cases. Iwas locked away and sent to die because of an organisation. I was wonderingwhether we’re up against the same people.”

“Acrime syndicate framed you? How very fortunate.” KID shakes hishead. He says, “If you were looking in a criminal organisation, they’d dowhat they do to me, they’d shoot you down without a care.”

Shinichisteps forward, ignores the guarded look. He says, “So you are being hunteddown. If we work together-”

“No.”

Thevoice is firm, almost harsh. Kaitou KID has always worked alone, - ifdisregarding the accomplice that people mention - has always done better whenperforming to a script he’s designed for himself.

“Wha-”

“Listen,”KID says, “I don’t trust you. Why would I work with someone who’s killedsix people? And if you’re telling the truth, why would I paint my back with aneven bigger target by working with someone they want dead?”

“You’realready a target-”

“Youdeal with your case,” KID says, “and I’ll deal with mine.”

(Shinichiloses sleep over it.

KaitouKID doesn’t.)

“Ithink ya should visit him ya know,” Hattori says.

Shinichi’sstolen him from his ward, wheeled him down to the cafeteria. Some proper food,Hattori had wanted, rather than what the hospital had offered.

“Visitwho,” Shinichi says, although he already had a faint impression.“I’ve visited everyone I want to visit.”

He’svisited Hattori, and he’s visited Ran.

And hisparents visited him for a week, and that had been enough of them.

“Hakuba,”Hattori continues. “You two were friends, right? It seems almost cruel nott’ let him kno’ you’re okay.”

Shinichimakes a noise of protest.

“Okay,”Hattori amends, “not tha’ you’re okay, but tha’ you’re alive.”

“Iguess that's… not the worst idea.” Shinichi sighs. “But only becausehe worked that same case - not because I’m going around to spend time with allthe friends I need to catch up on.”

Hattorigives him a look that Shinichi’s too tired to decipher.

“I’llgive ya his number.”

It’sdark, everything is-

Dark.

Shinichi’sundone his bindings, and now, he searches the cell trying to find anything -any loose metal that will help him against the lock. Even if he’s not good atbreaking open locks, he needs to at least try.

Thereare footsteps.

And thenlight. Two men standing outside the cage.

“KudoShinichi,” says the one with silver hair, the he remembers from arollercoaster, from a beheading from a spurned girlfriend. “How funny thatwe managed to catch up with you, since you were buried three years ago.”

“Veryfunny indeed,” says the one beside him. “What’re we going to do withhim Aniki?"

"Whateverwe want,” the first says, “seeing as no one’s going to comelooking.”

“Fine,”Shinichi sighs, looking across at Vermouth. “I’ll look into them. I’llfinally put a stop to all this, but after that… I don’t think I want to solve acase ever again.”

“That’show hobbies work when you become an adult,” Vermouth says. “Eitheryou find a way to turn them into jobs, or they start to fade away. But don’tget rid of it as an option though, not until you know for sure.”

“No,”Shinichi says, “I’m sure.”

Shinichiwakes up with a jolt in his heart and sweat soaking his hair against hispillow. He’s alone, alone in an apartment he’ll tell no one the location of - asafe house that had been set up when he’d first died.

Only oneother person had known the building, and she's… not around.

Hishands shake. His pulse is crazy, tachycardic, as if it’s a faulty engine,trying to propel him forward when he’s not ready to exert that much pressure.He bites his tongue, pushes himself up and turns on a light.

Everythingis as it should be.

Hisphone, plugged in and charging, lights up as he presses the home button. Anewer wallpaper, one with the sea shimmering beneath the night sky. He watchesthe stars, imagines the waves and realises that it’d be pretty nice if he couldjust… float in the water without any worries for a little while.

Sweatsticks his t-shirt to his back though, and he decides that the ocean will haveto wait. That a bath will have to do instead.

And then,maybe a phone call.

(Hattoridoesn’t sleep well either, apparently.)

Hedoesn’t find Hakuba Saguru in a police station, or even a private detective’s office.Nor does he find him inside the courts or visiting people in prisons.

He findshim in a pharmaceutical office leaving behind a meeting.

“Kudo,”Hakuba says, and that’s all he says for a moment. Shinichi watches hisexpression, tries to figure out what it means, and opens his mouth.

“Ithought, since we worked that case, we should talk about it?” Shinichi says.And Hakuba dips his head into a nod.

“There’sa coffee shop downstairs, let’s go there.”

Theirnames are Gin and Vodka.

Shinichidoesn’t have a legal name for them. He wonders if they’re like him - officialidentities dead, now walking around with a codename rather than an identity.

Hewonders whether it bothers them.

“Don’tgo ignoring us now,” Gin says. He’s the cruel one, the leader. A sadist, akiller worse than Shinichi was labelled to be. It should have been him whohung. “We want to know everything about what you know.”

Despitewhat he wishes, the pain does not get easier. He doesn’t get used to it. Thetrauma simply becomes so routine that it feels almost chronic.

Vermouthpats his cheek.

“It’sover now,” she whispers, turning his chin away from all the blood. Sheholds him up, or maybe he helps hold her up - or maybe they’re holding eachother. Which is weird, because Shinichi should not trust her, and he doesn't…

ButVermouth is someone he can rely on. For now.

“It’sover now, Shinichi-kun.” She is cautious with him now, almost maternal.“This has been a nightmare, my silver bullet, but now it’s time to wakeup.”

Shinichigets coffee.

Hakubagets tea.

Theconversation is staggered as they wait for their drinks. Every time one of themsays something, the words dissolve into the silence, a void of what should havebeen said sooner, of what should have been mentioned years ago.

Eventually,Shinichi tries for something a little less pressuring.

“Youwork in pharmaceuticals now?”

Hakubaoffers a sharp nod. He sips at tea, turns to look outside of the window andsays, “I thought it would be best for me. I’m not suited for detectivework, I think.”

“Neitheram I,” Shinichi responds. “Is office work… I don’t know, is itless…”

“It’seasier,” Hakuba says. “Less… emotionally draining. If one deal fallsthrough, or a project isn’t going badly, at least I know someone isn’t going todie because of it.”

Understandable.Shinichi knows what it’s like to live to a deadline. It’s much easier when thedeadline is paper based.

“Butyou were a detective for a while,” Shinichi says, “Hattori toldme.”

Hakubastiffens. He says, “I was. But - the two cases that meant something to meended… terribly… so I decided I was done.”

Shinichinods his head, “I see.”

“Comeand live with me,” Ran mumbles into his shoulder once, when he finallyfinds the courage to let her come closer, to let her hug him withoutremembering flashes of metal, gunfire - without tasting smoke and fire and…

“Ilike where I live,” Shinichi says. “It’s safe.”

“We’llmove somewhere safe,” Ran says. “Remember when we were teenagers, weused to walk through the park and talk about how we’d get a nice apartment,hidden from the press who wanted to take pictures of the amazing teenagedetective? We can still find that apartment. You just need to stoprunning.”

Shinichiisn’t sure.

An apartmentmeans writing down a name onto paper. Onto a contract. It means trusting thatpeople won’t search and leave a paper trail, that people won’t take advantageof systems designed to protect them and seek them out.

Whatwill he do if someone reaches his door?

What ifsomeone attacks them?

“Thatwas when we were teenagers, Ran.” Shinichi says. “We were kids. It’snot like that anymore.”

Randoesn’t force him to meet her eyes - she never does. Instead, she leans forwardand presses her palm against his, waits for him to interlock their fingers.Always giving him the chance to pull back.

“Thekids we were before all this happened, the people you thought we were - that’sstill us. Don’t forget that, okay?”

Hervoice is soft, melancholic.

“That’snot us,” Shinichi says, “not anymore.”

“Itis.” She presses her nose against his collarbone. “There’s more to usnow too, but at the end of the day it’s still us.”

Peopleare affected by both silver bullets and regular bullets.

In theend, Shinichi uses a lead bullet.

Theydon’t tie him down quickly enough; the binds are loose, and Shinichi uses it tohis advantage. He’s not strong, of course not - not after being here so long -but when they have their backs turned, he has the element of surprise.

Shinichijumps. And he tries to disarm them.

The gunscatters across the floor. Gin’s gun. Shinichi’s not fool enough to think thatVodka isn’t carrying anything either, or that Gin doesn’t have another,so he pounces, moves before either man can react.

Theyreact quickly.

Shinichimanages to turn, safety off, aiming just in time to see Vodka aiming back athim. It’s not a matter of thinking but acting and Shinichi presses the triggerbefore he can even think.

Vodkadrops like a stone.

“I’msorry,” Hakuba says, “I’m not trying to be… difficult it’s just.Seeing you here, alive. It’s - a friend who died is alive. It… It’s almost likea magic trick.”

Shinichialmost finds the phrasing strange - then he remembers how the other case hadbeen KIDs. A magician. And he remembers the news story.

“Theother case that went wrong,” Shinichi says, “ was Kaitou KID’s wasn’tit?”

Hakubapales. He takes a moment to think, then nods his head. He says, “It madethe news, so you probably remember. They didn’t reveal the identity, out of…understanding of the secrecy I guess, but… he was another friend.”

Twopeople dead. Two cases unsolved.

“Mycondolences.” Shinichi says.

“Seeingyou here,” Hakuba says, “almost makes me start to believe that he didthe same magic trick. That in a few years, I’ll find out he’s actually fine.Maybe he’s somewhere in Europe like he always wanted to go, or somewhere… Idon’t know. Makes me wonder if he’s alive too.”

Shinichiis not sure why he says it. Maybe because he knows that KID was a mastermind, agenius. Because he’d seemed so certain of himself that night in thealleyway.

“Maybehe is,” Shinichi says.

Hakubablinks, lets out a small laugh, says, “He’s not. The body was real. Opencasket.”

Gin doesnot react to Vodka’s death.

The mandrops, and he watches Shinichi rather than turn to his friend. He says,"Go on then, shoot.”

Shinichipresses the trigger.

Hisheart races in his chest. He feels bile rising up his throat, feels his bonesscreaming in protest to every movement. It hurts.

Fuck does it hurt.

Hepresses the trigger again and again, but only receives clicks.

Gin smirks.He says, “Do you know what’s fun about playing with rats? If you fill agun with one bullet and tell them they only need to dodge one bullet, they feellike there’s some way out.”

Shinichibites his cheek. He tastes blood, metallic in his mouth. He chokes on it.

“Theyalways forget that there’s a second gun.”

Andthen, he’s holding another gun up, one that Shinichi doesn’t even recall himpulling out. He raises it up, and he shoots.

Fireflares up his arm.

“OkayRan.”

Shinichigrabs a gloved hand, pulls her nearer to him and watches her expression. Herlip quirks up, first in confusion and then, happiness that he’s the oneinitiating their contact.

Thebobble of her hat bounces as she tilts her head.

“Okaywhat?”

“Thatapartment,” Shinichi says. “As long as it’s safe. Hidden away. Then Iguess it’s okay.”

Ranbeams.

Hattorigets out of the hospital months after his admission.

He walkswith crutches, and then, he walks with a cane. He sends Shinichi a wry grin andtells him that years of kendo means that with a cane, he’ll never be taken offguard by the criminals he chases after.

Evenstill, Shinichi watches the way the man’s eyes dim as he leaves the hospital.As his friend picks him up, helps him into the car to head back to work.

(“Iliked th’ break from th’ responsibility,” Hattori admits later. “ButI’d feel too guilty to leave it behind.”

Shinichigets the impression that Hattori is always guilty. He feels a little guiltyabout that.)

“Whatdo you mean she’s dead?”

He’s notstepped foot inside a precinct for almost five years, but now, newly returned,he races inside without any regard for those working. He races towards theholding cells.

“Shedied in the night,” someone says, but Shinichi doesn’t register it. Heraces forwards, forces them to open the door, to look inside. She is not there.“Either a suicide or a murder. We’re looking into it.”

“No,”Shinichi says, even though the room is empty. She should be in here.“She should be in here, she wouldn’t kill herself. Someone killedher-”

Shecan’t be dead.

“I-No.” He shudders, “I didn’t even know her real name.”

“Nothing’sever going to change Ran,” Shinichi whispers, when she finds him lying onthe floor. He does not say anything else, not until she lifts his head up,shuffles beneath it and lies him back down on her lap. “It doesn’t goaway.”

Shethreads her fingers through his hair. Slow, circular, comforting.

“Nothingcan change,” Ran says, “If you refuse to acknowledge what’s hurt. DoI need to say it again?”

Shinichicloses his eyes and whispers, “One more time. Please.”

“Quitrunning Shinichi,” Ran says.

Thefirst thing Kudo Shinichi does when he realises he is dead but not - alive butnot - is put both hands up to his ears and shut out all the noise.

Then, hescrunches his eyes so there is no light.

He biteshis lip.

Andthen, as he tastes blood, the liquid dribbling down his chin, Kudo Shinichidoes the one thing he wouldn’t be able to do, if he had been hung.

Hescreams.

#This is 5.6k long please don't expect me to write this much usually for my requests xD #DCMK #Detective Conan #Kudo Shinichi #Mouri Ran #Kuroba Kaito #Hattori Heiji #Hakuba Saguru #Vermouth (DCMK)#Gin (DCMK)#Vodka (DCMK)#Fic: Cost of Freedom #CoF bad end au #This is Shinichi's bad end au - there are more sides to the story but I don't know whether people want to read the other bad end aus so #:shrug:#mywriting

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merciattire-blog · 7 years ago

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12 Wardrobe Essentials You Shouldn’t Live Without

Let’s pause and take a second to look back and mentally picture the clothing items we had hanging in our closets ten years ago. Did you just cringe as much as I did? It’s likely that the most memorable items that came to mind were those short-lived trends that, if you are anything like me, you now choose to repress into your deepest, darkest memories. (If someone back then had just let me know that middle-school Paige was going overkill on the neon fad, the world would truly be a better place.) My point here is, you never know what the next hottest fashion trends will bring, nor what beloved pieces you have today will make you red in the face ten years down the road.

Nonetheless, there are some fashion staples that have stood the test of time and are here to stay. In today’s blog, I will elaborate on these basic, yet timeless pieces that every wardrobe should encompass to remain eternally stylish and chic.

1. White Tee

As a disclaimer, the listing of these wardrobe pieces has no rhyme or reason – except for this first item. This is the most important. You literally can never go wrong with a plain white tee (unless you’re a spiller). In my personal experience, I wear my simple white t-shirt about 80% of the time and I have absolutely no shame. To back up this fashion pick, let’s play a game. What goes well with some distressed jeans? A white tee. Some black high-waisted jeans? A white tee. Your favorite pair of shorts? A white tee. A pair of overalls? I think you see my point. Take my word that this is a timeless piece that should always hold a special place in one’s heart, or closet. Whatever.

2. Little Black Dress

No further explanation is really needed, right? It’s that one dress in your closet that all your other dresses wish they could be. One good-fitting LBD (little black dress) is your best friend when it comes to classy events without much notice. By simply switching out accessories, this piece can go from casual to elegant in seconds. To better ensure its versatility, aim for one with a modest length and high neckline.

3. Button-Up Shirt

As a business major, I would like to stress the importance that my white button-up serves in my closet. If you’re in need of a classy ensemble, there’s no going wrong with this piece. Throw this on tucked into some black pants or a pencil skirt and you’re good to go. Even if you’re going for an off-duty look, this classic top half-tucked into some high-rise jeans paired with some booties or heels is an effortless, yet totally chic look.

4. Jean Jacket

Ah, my trusty ol’ jean jacket. It truly holds a special place in my heart (and my closet). After becoming the hottest trend in the 80’s, it’s one that is sure to stick around for many years to come. Nothing spruces up an old t-shirt quite like a light-wash jean jacket, especially if you’re going for that 90’s grunge look. Even here in Wisconsin, where the weather is typically either 20 or 80 degrees, I find a way to sneak this classic in somewhere within the glimpses of spring. Pro tip: don’t make the same mistake I did; go for one that is a bit oversized so you can layer, layer, layer! Mine is a bit snug, but being a bit chilly sometimes is still 100% worth it.

5. Leather Jacket

The one piece of clothing that you can throw over any outfit and BAM! Instant badass. If you don’t own one yet, there’s plenty of styles to choose from. A faux leather moto jacket is the perfect starting point and you can find one pretty much anywhere. Coming from someone who looks for any reason to bring out my inner rebel (spoiler alert: it’s pretty much nonexistent), I guarantee you won’t regret it. Once you get a basic black one, you can even extend your collection by adding in some other colors. My closet consists of leather jackets in black, gray, white, brown, pink (for when I’m feeling more feminine vibes), and, my personal favorite, a floral embroidered one. Do I have an obsession? Probably. Am I ashamed of it? Not in the slightest.

6. Knit Sweater

Nothing says “cozy” quite like a big, soft sweater. As a college student that faces the true brutality of Wisconsin winters, chunky sweaters have been a lifesaving essential. This is probably the one item that I would vouch for as being most splurge-worthy. There are far too many itchy sweaters in the world that fall apart after two washes, so my advice to you is to seek out a comfortable, long lasting one. You deserve it. Now, say it with me: “I am better than itchy sweaters”.

7. Go-To Jeans

So, you had a plan to go over to meet a friend for lunch, but you overslept, you’re already running late and you have yet to get dressed... and do your hair… and makeup. We’ve all been there. There’s always the option to hit cancel on the hair and makeup; just bun it up and go for the au naturel makeup look that is so in. Alas, you probably still need to put on some clothes (I know what you’re thinking, but let’s just assume your just-slept-in yoga pants just won’t cut it this time). You don’t have the time to try on every pair of pants in your closet, not this time. So, what jeans are you thinking? If you have one specific pair in mind, your one true pantsmate, you are a lucky gal. If not, you owe it to yourself to go find that special pair. High-rise, low-rise, boot cut, skinny, whichever you fancy. Go find that pair that speaks to you. One you can always rely on, even around the holidays (i.e. stretchy fabric is your best friend). If you’re having trouble finding your pantsmate, here’s a helpful article on which jeans are best for your body type. Go on, get educated; become a jeanius.

8. Leggings

This is just a given, we all have ‘em. They’re truly amazing. Life-changing, even. Finding a sturdy, warm pair of black high-rise leggings will surely get you through any challenges life throws at you. Hence, why they make up half of the official finals week uniform, along with a greatly oversized sweatshirt that probably hasn’t been washed since syllabus week. On top of that, they serve an even greater purpose rather than wallowing in salty finals tears: working out. Who knew? I can’t be the only one who only works out 2% of the time when I wear these. Nonetheless, leggings are an essential for both everyday wear, or for the workout buffs (kudos to you, brave warriors). Also, I must add that leggings with pockets do exist and they are a total game-changer.

9. Pencil Skirt

The ultimate formal attire must-have. For any occasion where you just aren’t feeling a dress, a solid pencil skirt with a nice blouse or button-up is your best friend. This simple, timeless piece is one that will never not look classy and stylish. Plus, if you find a good quality one like I did, it may just last you for over 10 years. (I bet middle-school Paige didn’t see that coming.) My pencil skirt has gotten me through almost every single presentation in college thus far and I don’t plan on trading it in anytime soon.

10. Ankle Boots

Who doesn’t love a good pair of booties? They are the ultimate autumn fashion staple that you are guaranteed to fall in love with. I own two trusty pairs of booties: one in black faux leather, and the other in taupe suede. Both have been through countless lectures, business meetings, and crunched their way through the crisp fall leaves on the way there. They are the ultimate comfort shoes.

11. Black Pumps

Now, I’m going to assume here that no one likes walking in heels. We typically wear them to dress up an outfit, improve our posture, accentuate our legs, or to give us a little confidence boost. No matter what the reason, a pair of simple black pumps can really do it all. Whether you’re heading to a business meeting, happy hour, or a casual date night, they’re one accessory that won’t let you down (unless a heel breaks and in that case, they are quite literally letting you down). I suggest you invest in a pair that is somewhat comfortable. Believe it or not, there are some shoe makers aren’t out to kill your poor feet. Here are some top-rated heel brands based on their comfortability.

12. Basic Sneakers

If you were to see me any day during the week, odds are that I’d be wearing either my Slick Adidas or my Snappy Vans. That’s right, I even named them. Walking-friendly shoes are a necessity, especially for college students. I honestly have not realized the amount of walking I would face in my life until I entered college. However, with a nice pair of worn-in sneakers, the lack of car travel is no problem. I’d recommend either black or white; that way, they pair well with any outfit.

So, there you have it: the wardrobe pieces that have a lifetime membership to my closet. What is one timeless wardrobe piece you couldn’t live without?

#MKT400UWL

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