#With a happy ending

[aventurineswife]

Hello ^^ How about i request something about reader being like aven in a way that they have walls too (yes, we're usually sweet to him in the established relationships). But like, i'm curious how it'd be for two people with difficulty admitting their own feelings.

Basically: mutual pining with aven and no one is admitting anything because it'd take a lot to admit it. Not in an enemies way, but just because they both think they don't deserve the other. "i think theyre just being nice to me bc i always hangout with them" kind of oblivious but others would think you're both dating. Until someone like topaz or ratio got fed up with it lol. I'd love to see your take on this.

Thank you! Please do whatever you can with this description, I believe in you ♪

“Don't you want me like I want you, baby? Don't you need me like I need you now?”

Summary: You and Aventurine, despite your deep feelings for one another, have built emotional walls that keep you from confessing. Both of you believe the other is just being nice, too oblivious to realize you're mutually pining. That is, until Topaz and Ratio grow tired of watching the two of you dance around your feelings and step in to smack some sense into you.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Confession in the Rain, Fluff, Emotional Vulnerability, Topaz & Ratio Being Matchmakers, Subtle Romantic Gestures, Light Angst with a Happy Ending.

Warnings: Minor self-doubt and insecurity from both characters

A/N: THIS IS SUCH A CUTE PROMPT!! 😭 AND I CAN TOTALLY SEE THIS!! ESPECIALLY BEFORE AVENTURINE AND YOU WOULD GET INTO A RELATIONSHIP, THIS SUITS SO WELL!! THANK YOU FOR THIS PROMPT AND BELIEVING IN ME!!🤭🫶💖 I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!

(Ifyk the title yk🤭)

Keep sending those requests y'all, I love reading and writing about them 🫶🤭💖

The click of glasses clinking echoed through the room as a sea of gold and velvet flowed around you. The IPC’s high-profile event had you standing at the corner of the lavish hall, drink in hand, stealing glances at Aventurine across the room. He was his usual self, smiling that easy, carefree grin while chatting up the attendees, his sandy-blond hair perfectly styled, magenta and cyan eyes gleaming.

You sighed softly, feeling the familiar tightness in your chest.

It was so obvious to everyone else—the stolen glances, the shared moments of quiet company, the lingering touches that could be dismissed as nothing. To you, though, it was an enigma. You couldn’t fathom that Aventurine, with his charm and confidence, could actually feel something for you. No, he was just being nice, right? He was always kind to those close to him.

But maybe that’s all you were—a close friend. A confidante.

"Of course, he doesn't feel anything more..." you muttered, running a hand through your hair, as if the action would sweep away the doubt.

Unbeknownst to you, Aventurine was having a similar struggle. Even as he entertained the crowd, his mind was on you. He hadn’t been able to shake that tightening in his chest every time your gazes met across the room. He knew you were kind, gentle even, but surely, you were just being nice because of how often you spent time together. And he? He certainly didn’t deserve you. Not with the walls he kept up.

His fingers played with the roulette-detailing on his sleeve as he watched you from the corner of his eye. ‘How could someone so warm even look my way?’ Aventurine thought. The idea of confessing, of breaking the silence, seemed too daunting—too risky, even for someone like him who played with fate itself.

It was a strange dance, this oblivious pining. And everyone around you was done watching it.

“Are you serious?” Topaz’s voice cut through the polite conversation with the sharpness of a blade. She stood there, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in an almost imperious arch as she sized you and Aventurine up.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, trying to play dumb.

Topaz narrowed her eyes. “You and Aventurine. Everyone in the IPC knows. Heck, even Numby knows.”

Ratio, standing beside her, shook his head, clearly exasperated. “It’s painful to watch, honestly. You two are practically dating without even realizing it. How much longer are you both going to keep this up?”

A flush crept up your cheeks, and you felt your heart stumble over itself. “W-what? No. We’re not—”

“Oh, please,” Topaz interjected, rolling her eyes. “Don’t even try that excuse. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. It’s like you’re the only one in the room. And don’t even get me started on how you gaze at him when you think no one’s watching.”

You were stunned into silence, and Ratio sighed, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Don’t overthink it. Just… talk to him. He’s probably thinking the same things you are.”

As if on cue, you spotted Aventurine making his way to the exit, slipping away unnoticed by the crowd. The sky outside had turned stormy, and you felt something twist in your chest, urging you to follow.

The rain poured down in a steady rhythm as you caught up to Aventurine, his overcoat already soaked, but he didn’t seem to mind. His back was to you as he stood under the awning, staring out into the storm.

“Hey,” you called out, breathless from both the rush and the nerves building inside you. “Aventurine, wait!”

He turned at the sound of your voice, and for a moment, his expression was unreadable. You felt the words stick in your throat, the intensity of the moment hanging heavy between you.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

You swallowed hard, heart hammering as you took a step closer. “I… needed to talk to you.”

His eyes flickered with something—hope, maybe? But also a hint of wariness. “What about?”

Taking a deep breath, you searched for the right words, every inch of you trembling with nerves. “Topaz and Ratio—they think we’re dating. And, well, I… I didn’t know what to say.”

Aventurine stiffened slightly, his gaze dropping to the ground. “Oh...” was all he managed, voice unusually quiet.

You hurried to fill the silence. “They said we’ve been acting like we’re… more than friends, but I didn’t think you’d—”

His gaze snapped back to yours, a flash of emotion crossing his face before he schooled it into that familiar smile. “And what do you think?” he asked, but his voice was a little too casual, too light.

“I think…” you hesitated, your walls creeping back up, fighting the vulnerability of the moment. “I think I’ve been lying to myself.”

That caught his attention, and he straightened, the air between you charged with tension. The rain drummed softly around you, a perfect backdrop to the storm of emotions swirling within.

“I’ve been telling myself you were just being kind to me. Because I was around, or because I was useful, I don’t know. I thought I didn’t deserve you.” you admitted, the weight of the confession making your chest tighten.

Aventurine stared at you, stunned into silence. His smile faltered, and in its place, something softer, more raw, slipped through. “You thought you didn’t deserve me?” he murmured, incredulity coloring his tone. “All this time…”

He chuckled, but there was no humor in it—just a deep, aching understanding. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. That you were just being nice because I was there. That maybe I didn’t deserve someone like you.”

Your heart clenched at the vulnerability in his voice, the real him peeking through.

He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face, the rain still falling around you both. “I thought… if I let myself hope for more, I’d lose you.”

You swallowed hard, overwhelmed by the depth of his words. “I’m not going anywhere.” you whispered, voice trembling.

And then, before either of you could second-guess yourselves, you closed the remaining distance, your lips crashing together in a kiss that was both hesitant and fervent. The rain soaked through your clothes, but you didn’t care—the warmth of the kiss, of finally closing that distance, was all that mattered.

When you finally pulled apart, breathless, Aventurine’s smile was different—softer, more real. “Guess we’ve both been fools, haven’t we?”

You laughed, the tension between you finally breaking as the rain continued to fall. “Yeah, I guess we have.”

From a nearby window, Topaz and Ratio watched with satisfied grins.

“Took them long enough.” Topaz muttered, arms crossed, a smirk on her face.

Ratio nodded. “At least now we can stop pretending we didn’t see all those obvious looks.”

[jamieroyjamieroy]

Part 1

The next little snippet of my still unnamed angsty BuckTommy fic

Arriving at Harbor Tommy takes another moment to plaster the smile to his face before exiting his car, he can fake it for another day. No one cares how broken and unlovable he feels, as long as he is there for his teammates and friends when they need him that is all that matters. He prides himself on being there for others whenever they need him. No matter how he is feeling. He changes into his uniform in the locker room and makes his way to the kitchen to seek out some coffee, thankfully having avoided any interactions with co-workers. He knows today is going to be a hard day to keep the mask in place.

“Hey Kinard, you still good to help with building my kids tree house?” Shepherd asks before Tommy can make it to the coffee pot.

“Yeah of course man. Just tell me when and I’ll be there” Tommy tries to smile but he feels so numb today he’s sure it’s more of a grimace. Especially when Shepherd asks if he’s ok. Brushing off the concern with a quip about not having coffee yet and chuckling makes Tommy feel like he has avoided any more scrutiny. Hiding behind the process of getting and drinking coffee Tommy avoids eye contact and conversation with his co-workers trying to remind himself to be happy around them so they don’t look too closely. Tommy feels bad for hoping they have a busy shift so small talk won’t be necessary, he doesn’t really want his comfort to come at the expense of others but he feels the mask slipping and his shift has only just begun. The Q word start to this shift means maintenance work on the helicopter and restocking supplies. Plenty of time for small talk, and by the look on Lucy’s face she has a lot to talk about.

“Kinard. What’s up?” Lucy finally asks after 20 minutes of Tommy replying in grunts and nods of his head.

“Nothing. Just concentrating” Tommy replies not meeting her eye. If she can’t see the cracks in his mask she can’t break through them.

“You sure? You don’t look well Tommy.” Lucy says staring at him, they have all noticed the barely shaved face, the bags under his eyes and the weight loss. Not to mention the forced smile and the cancelled plans.

“Just tell me I look like shit already Donato” Tommy tries for levity but it falls flat.

“Is, is this because Buck is dating?” Lucy asks hesitantly.

[melchiordommik]

Post the end Paultord

Tord doesn't want to rest. Every time he tries, his mind is right back at the incident, the fear, the guilt.

That's why he needed someone to help him, and right there at Tord's corner was Paul. His lover, his anchor...

Maybe things will get better after all.

[somethingvicked]

When Love and Hate Collide

Eddie Munson song-fic.

Song lyrics belong to the band Def Leppard!

warnings: female reader, cruel Eddie, angst!

Eddie walked out of his trailer, seeing you sitting on your own porch in the opposite lot with your boombox beside you, listening to your music. Usually your music taste was similar to his, but when you were in a low mood you always went for power ballads. He used to teased you about that but right now he felt like someone had punched him when he saw you refusing to look in his direction, writing in your notebook, silently lip-syncing to the song.

You could have a change of heart If you would only change your mind Instead of slamming down the phone, girl For the hundredth time

He had tried calling you, reasoning with you, begging your forgiveness but it was plain to see that this time you've had enough.

I got your number on my wall But I ain't gonna make that call When divided we stand, baby United we fall

You two had been best friends forever. Your parents had rented the trailer in the lot opposite his and Wayne's when you were barely four years old and you had hit it off immediately.

He couldn't say when those feelings had developed into love. Maybe when your parents had sent you to camp the whole summer and you hadn't seen each other for two months? Maybe it was when Gareth Heath had commented on how you had come back from summer camp with a 'rack of lamb'? Maybe it was when you said that you had a small crush on Patrick Swayze and he got furious because Swayze was a pretty boy, nothing like him and he wanted you to think of only him.

Yet, he never acted on those feelings, despite the hints you dropped. He was scared that if it didn't work out he would lose you forever. That was his worst nightmare. He'd rather stay just friends then.

Got the time, got a chance, gonna make it Got my hands on your heart, gonna take it All I know I can't fight this flame

It was plain to see that it hurt you. Especially when he got drunk and flirted with other girls - maybe just to see how jealous you got, to ensure him you still loved him and only him - or when he sold weed to cheerleaders and they flirted with him, wearing their short skirts and scratching his arm with their painted nails to get a reduced price.

You never did anything of the sort. You were in love with Eddie and wanted no one else. Good thing you didn't because he might have punched the guy you showed the slighest bit of interest in.

It was only because Patrick Swayze was a hundred miles away in Hollywood - and too old for you - that Eddie hadn't killed him.

Not really, but still.

You could have a change of heart If you would only change your mind 'Cause I'm crazy 'bout you, baby Time after time

But last night at the Hideout when some skank (your words, not his) had all but draped herself over him and he had done nothing to prevent it, despite talking to you merely seconds before, you had slammed down your glass on the bar counter top and walked out.

He had pushed the girl off of him and raced after you wondering what was wrong and you had turned around, looking at him with such hatred in your eyes that he had to take a step back. Your voice was colder than ice when you said: "I'm done. Done, Munson (not Eddie. Munson.). You've been hurting me for years. Friends don't do that. And since you claim that's the only thing we are, then I say it's a shitty friendship and I'm better off without it. We're done. Don't call me. Don't visit. Don't talk to me. Never again."

Without you, one night alone Is like a year without you baby Do you have a heart of stone? Without you Can't stop the hurt inside When love and hate collide

He had been struck by surprise, then paralyzing fear before he shook himself out of it. You couldn't mean it... right? No, you were just angry. You would get over it and understand he didn't mean anything by it. You always did.

He had cursed himself a million times over for not going after you when you walked off. He had gone back inside, thinking a little distance would make you cool down.

It was merely hours later that he realized what a mistake he had made.

When he got home he had tried calling you, but you didn't answer. When your parents answered the phone they didn't even bother lying to him - they said you didn't want to talk to him and that was that.

He went over to your place the next day but you didn't come to the door. He knew you were home because once again your mom refused to lie to him, she simply said that you didn't want to see him and that he had to respect your choice.

When Monday rolled around you took the bus to school from the trailer park. You hadn't done that in years, always riding with him in his van. In school you avoided him like the plague, sitting with Robin instead of the Hellfire table. When the guys heard what had happened they all looked at him as if he had killed someone. Or rather, killed you.

I don't wanna fight no more I don't know what we're fighting for When we treat each other, baby Like an act of war

Now he didn't know what to do. It was like someone had reached into his chest and cut his heart out. He had tried saying sorry, even put letters underneath your door, saying he would do better. You still didn't talk to him.

Deep inside he hoped you would again, that you would realize that you missed him, just like he missed you. But for every day that passed he slowly realized that whatever feelings you had for him, he had fucked up one time too many and the pan of the scale had tipped over.

I could tell a million lies And it would come as no surprise When the truth is like a stranger Hits you right between the eyes

"You got to make this right," Wayne said when Eddie all but cried for help. "You obviously don't see her as a friend. Not to mention you hurt her so many times - trying to have your cake and eat it too! That's such a cruel thing to do, Eddie! I've not raised you to act like that! So tell her how you feel. For real. And you better spend the rest of your time making it up to her!"

There's a time and a place and a reason And I know I got a love to believe in All I know Got to win this time

So that same night he showed up on your porch with his acoustic guitar, strumming out the tones to the song you had played just the other day. Not caring whether your parents heard him or even called the cops on him.

Without you, one night alone Is like a year without you, baby Do you have a heart of stone? Without you Can't stop the hurt inside When love and hate collide

You could have a change of heart If you would only change your mind 'Cause I'm crazy 'bout you, baby Crazy, crazy

You opened the door, meeting his gaze for the first time in days.

"I... I love you, sweetheart," Eddie whispered. "I'm so sorry. So sorry for how I behaved. Please... please give me a chance to make this right. I can't live without you."

You shook your head. "I'm so goddamn angry at you, Eddie Munson. But... I love you too I thought it would be easier, living without you. It's not! I miss you so much!"

Eddie smiled and ran up to her, wrapping his arms around her tightly, both of them crying.

"But I'm telling you now - I'll castrate you if you ever hurt me again!" Y/N whispered and Eddie chuckled.

"I'll hand you the knife, baby."

"Don't bother - I'll use a spoon."

Without you, one night alone Is like a year without you, baby Do you have a heart of stone? Without you, one night alone Is like a year without you, baby If you have a heart at all Without you I can't stop the hurt inside When love and hate collide

@eddiemunsonfuxks

(please, like, comment and reblog!

Your likes are wonderful, but reblogs expand my reading circle!)

[liesmultixxx]

Thinking about Annabeth dying.

Thinking about how Perseus Jackson would not rest until he’d get her back.

It doesn’t matter how many monsters he has to fight, how many impossible quests he’ll have to take on to get her back.

Because he will get her back.

There’s no way he won’t.

And unlike Orpheus, he won’t look back.

Only ahead.

To a future with Annabeth.

[tashacee]

hero's aspect wild still has mipha's grace, right?

i'm rereading the whole fic and i got to the bit where hyrule is sure he would've killed wild if he'd been there when they first saw him. and i thought-

well ok. what if he did. like they kill wild before sky can tell them what's really happening and everyone is horrified and then he. comes back to life. all's well that ends well! except the trauma i guess

OH MAN

Oh no!

(Oh Yes)

Aspects of a Terrible Mistake

They had messed up. They had messed up beyond messing up. ‘Messed up’ wasn’t even an appropriate word for how badly things had gone wrong.

Legend stared silently as Hyrule, sobbing, tried to pour his Life spell into a corpse. Beside him, Sky was paler than ash, his eyes wide and his lower lip trembling. Only a moment ago he had burst through the brush, panting, and shouted for them to stop, that this wasn’t a monster, it was a hero like them.

It was too late. Hyrule had shot true, his arrow going into one of the hero’s eyes and killing him instantly.

This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be real. It was a dream, a terrible nightmare, it-

Legend felt like the world was spinning without him. He couldn’t focus. He heard himself saying that he was going to get Time, knew distantly that he was moving through the forest towards their camp, but he was in a daze.

They’d killed a hero.

He didn’t know what he said to Time. He didn’t know what the old man said, just that his eye flew wide and he looked sick. The rest of the heroes - the heroes that hadn’t been part of the group that killed an innocent man - followed him to the river where the corpse was still lying prone and Hyrule was sobbing into his chest.

They eventually decided to give him a decent burial. It was the very least they could do. The new hero, whoever he was, was a big guy but Time could just about carry him back to camp.

They laid him out on a bedroll, as if he was only sleeping. It would take a while to dig a grave and they were determined to do this right, to clean the blood from his face and comb his hair before they buried him. They would take some of his jewellery, maybe his sword and that strange device on his hip so that they could give it to his own people if they ever went to his era.

Hyrule was still trembling as he removed the arrow from his eye and washed his face. Legend had no idea how the traveller, the sweet kind traveller, would ever forgive himself for shooting the killing shot. Legend had just been a part of the group that killed him and he felt wretched.

There was nothing he could think of to say.

Legend turned to see how the grave was getting on, and -

A gasp. The sound of someone stumbling backwards, and a whine.

Legend span around and screamed.

The dead man was no longer dead, and now was looking up at him with two wide, very frightened eyes.

What the f-

-

Link awoke with a gasp, his body aching and his head pounding. He had been dead a moment ago. He had been dead, he had been murdered and -

Oh Hylia, the boy who shot him was right beside him. Wild whined and tried to struggle away, but his limbs were heavy and numb after their temporary death. A few feet away someone screamed, a guy with pink hair who looked like he’d just seen a ghost. Which, yeah kinda.

But what the hell was going on?! He’d died in the river, but now he was in a glade, under a blanket. Were-

Were they planning to bury him? The killing boy looked like he’d been crying, what the hell was going on?!

Voices began to ring out as a group of more boys and men began to crowd around him, all looking shellshocked and disbelieving. Some, he recognised from the hunting party, others he did not. The largest of the group, a tattooed man with one eye, pushed his way through the crowd and knelt at link’s side.

“Everyone, give us some space. Sky, stay with me, help me explain.”

Link whined again, looking up at the tattooed man. Despite his intimidating figure he was looking down at him kindly. Link knew that he probably shouldn’t trust him, but he did.

-

Okay so this was all batshit crazy. According to one-eye - Time, his name was Time - they were all heroes from across time, all called link, and all drawn here by mysterious portals. Sounded like a lot of woo-woo bullshit to Link, but then Time’s friend, Sky, had let him hold his sword. The Master Sword.

Hylia, it was all true.

Call him crazy, but Link - Wild, he was now - didn’t hold a grudge. He’d died before, including by accident or at the hands of people who hadn’t realised it was him and not a monster. It was fine.

Well, it wasn’t fine, but Wild was forgiving and wanted to move on. Wanted to get to know his brothers.

It took a while. Weeks, really. He couldn’t communicate properly, couldn’t explain himself to them. Little by little, though, he broke down barriers between himself and the chain. The ones who hadn’t been in the hunt first, then one by one, the others.

Four. Warriors. Legend. Sky.

And then Hyrule. Much as Wild wanted to move on, it was hard to build a bridge with Hyrule.

He knew why the traveller had done what he did, probably would have done the same in his situation. Honestly, he was even pretty impressed by his shot!

But his subconscious was another matter. He got nervous around the traveller without any real reason, and Hyrule’s guilt was clearly affecting him too.

Then, one day on a hike the traveller had pulled out a bow as he turned to listen for monsters and Wild had jerked away on instinct. The look of shock and guilt and grief he then got from the traveller after that was horrible, and that night he found Hyrule’s bow snapped in half in a ditch.

In the end it was food that united them. Wild had seen Hyrule by the campfire and steeled himself, walking over and plopping down beside him.

Hyrule immediately made to move, to give wild space, but wild stopped him, putting a hand on his wrist. He rumbled softly, and offered his slate.

It took a while to get his meaning across, but eventually Hyrule understood that he was asking for food suggestions. The traveller would never be a great chef, but he could follow instructions and was genuinely excited to help.

It was the first time they had ever actually done something together and… it felt nice. Right. When they were done they had a damn good meal for the chain, and Wild ruffled Hyrule’s hair fondly. The traveller smiled shyly back up at him.

By the time they first made it to Wild’s world, the time Wild had be killed by Hyrule felt like a bad dream.

[pellucid-constellations]

One more Az drabble before Trial and Error update should it be angsty or fluffy :)

[disguisedweasels]

Writing a fan fiction. I'll update you when the first chapter is posted, but do you think the line "you don't smell like the bookshop anymore" should be said it an angry/pathetic tone or a sad/pathetic tone?

[ghxst-bird]

The curse rubs a hand down Junpei’s back, along the curve of his spine, feeling the prominent ridges and the way the soul strains towards him, seeking release from its mortal coil.

The boy’s eyes are as dull as his soul as he looks up at Mahito, rage and desperation churning together, transfiguring itself into an amalgamation of resentful emotion intense enough it could give birth to a new curse altogether.

His mother is breathing heavily on the bed beside them, her face pinched in slumber. The residual pain of being torn in half and sown back together again a memory that will not quickly fade from her mind. If she survives the night at all. Mahito has never bothered to put a body and its soul back into the correct order before, so he doesn’t know what to expect.

[alms4oblivion]

the bane of my existence is complete. Chapter 9 of my Avatrice Bridgerton AU is out!

[fictionalsimp09]

Today is the one and only Sirius Black's birthday, so why not celebrate it with a very angsty post-Halloween one-shot with a happy ending

[jamieroyjamieroy]

This is the start of my yet untitled angst filled BuckTommy fic. Some of you have already read parts of it on some tag game posts. Please interact with this post if you want to be tagged when I finish and post it.

40 wasn’t that different from 39 Tommy was discovering the day after his birthday. The day he spent home alone because he ran. Because he was scared. Because he didn’t trust anyone could really love him. The only reason he even acknowledged his birthday was because he was now the same age his mother was when she died. She had been stuck in a horrible marriage, staying only for him, then she was too sick to leave. He missed her so much, more since he broke up with Evan. Or maybe his missing Evan had compounded with his missing his mother. Either way he spent his birthday with a single candle on a sad store bought cupcake and his choices beside her gravesite.

Today he was scheduled to work a 48 but his motivation to leave his bed was the same as his love life. Non-existent. Running his hand through the scruff on his face Tommy contemplates calling in sick, it’s been weeks since his break up and he hadn’t missed a shift, he isn’t sure why today is so hard to face the day without Evan in his life. Deciding calling in was too much effort Tommy drags his body from his bed and into his shower washing quickly, because he spent way too long bed rotting this morning, and shaving just enough that no one can claim he has a beard. Tommy can’t stand to shave more because that means he has to stare into the face of the man who has ruined his life even longer. Looking at his watch he realises he doesn’t have time for coffee, which is about the only thing in his kitchen now days, food all tastes like ash to him. Not that he feels anything but nauseous anyway. Climbing into his truck Tommy takes a deep breath and prepares to put on his mask and build the wall up between him and everyone else.

[bow-of-aros]

One Minute More

Summary:

What if Agent Curt Mega set the timer on the bomb for four minutes instead of three?

Yeah I watched Spies Are Forever again and was seized with a desperate need to make everything better. Also, this was supposed to be like 1k words at most. I just need them to be okay SO BAD. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!! Hope that y'all enjoy <33

Owen fell.

God, what had Curt been thinking?! He hadn’t, is what Owen would tell him. He’d gotten all arrogant and cocky and dropped a banana peel next to a safety guard that he’d dismantled like a fucking idiot.

Curt nearly threw himself down after Owen as he lunged to catch him. His arm was outstretched as far as it would go and he could feel the brush of Owen’s fingertips against his own as he fell out of reach. Blood rushed in his ears, but he could still make out the shape of his name on Owen’s lips before he connected with the floor.

For a moment, everything froze. Curt had the blueprints and the timer on the bomb was set for four minutes, three of which had surely passed by now. He should leave, Cynthia would expect him to put himself and the information over the life of who she thought of as merely an ally.

But then his eye caught on the banana peel that was still up here when Owen wasn’t, then on the still open safety barricades that Curt had forced Owen to leave, and everything snapped back into focus.

This was his fault, and he was not leaving without his partner.

The sound of the sirens blared through the air, punctuated by panicked screams and gunshots that were far too frantic to come anywhere close to hitting their mark. Curt refused to waste another second as he slid down railings and skipped steps, taking risks with even less abandon than usual.

He ducked as some pissed off Russian scientist took note of him and fired a few direct shots that embedded themselves into the wall right behind him. Curt dropped down low, quickly lined up his aim, and took him out with one clean shot to the head.

The stairs shook around him, his subconscious clock alerting him that he had maybe fifty seconds before the silo came down on top of him.

Stupid. Curt was being so stupid.

But then his eyes flickered down and caught on Owen’s prone form, kept from an even more fatal fall due to being caught on a half-closed safety guard. He’s never been more grateful for anything in his life than he was for Owen’s insistence to spare the rest of the silo from harm in this moment.

Suddenly, the breath was knocked out of him, and it was hard to tell whether it was from the burly guy throwing him into the wall, or the fact that Curt could’ve sworn that he just saw Owen draw in a breath.

A fist drives itself into his gut and he decides that it’s probably a mix of both.

“Get the fuck out of my way.” Curt doesn’t even bother with any of the fancy gadgets he has on him, opting for a swift uppercut that has the man stumbling back followed by pouring all of his fear and desperation into a kick to his chest that sends him flying over the railing.

He doesn’t even wait to see him fall past Owen before he’s on the move again, shoving, shooting, and stabbing his way through the hysteria.

That isn’t to say that nobody lands any hits on him. Curt’s pretty sure that he has at least two fractured ribs, is bleeding from a various assortment of knife wounds, and would guess that the burning across his arm is from a bullet. He can’t tell if it’s a graze or fully lodged into bone, and it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except getting to Owen.

Thirty seconds, a voice whispers, and Curt’s heart sinks.

There’s still two more sets of stairs to go down and several people intent on killing him coming up them.

An idea pops into his head, and Curt doesn’t let himself think twice before he jumps.

As he falls, his first thought is that Cynthia is going to kill him for this if he doesn’t die either from the impact or the sheer dumbassery of his actions catching up to him and he just misses the mark entirely. But he’s taken worse risks with less on the line before, and he can’t bring himself to regret it.

He was taught how to fall, which sounds silly, but in his line of work being thrown large distances for any reason was one of the many hazards he had to adapt to. It’s all instinct now, he relaxes as much as he’s physically able to before landing on the balls of his feet.

As the sharp pain of impact begins to shoot up his legs, he falls onto his side, bringing his arms up to guard his head as he rolls away from the edge.

Twenty-five seconds.

Curt scrambles to his feet and, yep, his ankles are twisted at best, but he’s going to wring every last drop of adrenaline coursing through him to get them out of here. He grabs Owen’s nearly fully-loaded gun and takes out the people on the stairs sill looking down at him in shock in quick succession.

Being the best shot in the American Secret Service has its benefits.

Twenty seconds.

Owen’s heavier than he thought he’d be. Dense muscle disguised by a lithe frame and the phrase dead weight hits Curt like truck. Sure, he’s carried Owen before, but he’s always had enthusiastic help from his partner.

That image is quickly pushed from his mind as the fear of never seeing it again seeps into him, and Curt focuses on steading Owen on his shoulder as he stumbles.

Fifteen seconds.

Each step sends pain roiling through him. The extra weight isn’t doing all his injuries any favours, especially the damage he’d wrought on his legs, but Owen’s called him the most stubborn bastard to grace the Earth and Curt intends on earning that moniker.

With one hand busy keeping Owen secured, the other one works to pull him up the railing as fast as he can physically muster.

Ten seconds.

Suddenly, Curt is hit with a sense of startling clarity. The room goes silent, everyone except him and Owen either gone or dead, the blaring alarm fading away and leaving only the staccato sound of his breaths as his company. The pain fades away and a sudden burst of energy surges through him.

Five seconds.

His legs pump in time with the ticking clock as he races up the steps. Curt swings himself around the final corner, just barely recovering his footing before crashing into a wall

Four seconds.

Just a few more steps and then Curt’s out the door with enough awareness to ensure that he doesn’t hit Owen’s head off of the doorframe.

Three seconds.

His legs threaten to buckle as the sky opens up around them, but he forces himself to keep going because, right now, every step counts.

Two seconds.

In a complete disregard of protocol, Curt doesn’t bother to speak in code when he flips on the small radio that Barb insisted he take with him.

One second.

“I need an emergency extract immediately. Owen’s—”

BOOM!

As they fly through the air, Curt’s last few moments of consciousness are spent tucking Owen into his chest and angling his back to the ground.

The cold Russian dirt rushed up to meet him and an unintelligible, high-pitched voice framed the impact that wracked his body.

At least I got Owen out.

And then it went dark.

Curt woke up and, for a brief moment, basked in the comfort of an actual bed.

And then Oh holy fucking shit why does everything hurt?!

His eyes shot open and immediately squeeze back shut after being assaulted with fluorescent lights. The second attempt is much more cautious, the bright room slowly filtering in through the gaps in his eyelashes before it felt safe enough to take it all in.

Immediately, Curt recognized one of the various American Secret Service medical facilities that they’ve managed to nestle in nooks and crannies around the world. It was only slightly better than a regular hospital comfort-wise, but at least the doctors and nurses wouldn’t question the various injuries that agents showed up with.

The steady beat of his heart monitor rings through the room with a faint echo.

Owen.

Curt nearly flung himself out of bed, tearing various tubes and wires out of his body and ignoring the muted agony that sears through him (Thank God for the painkillers he was definitely on because he would not be standing in any other circumstance).

Some sort of alert screeches down the hall, but it doesn’t matter because, at that moment, Curt’s eyes land on a bed on the far end of the room surrounded with even more machines than his was. He distantly heard the sounds of people running into the room, but he’d already staggered over and was looking down at a pale face framed by dark hair.

Owen looked like shit. He was covered in casts and stitches, essentially being held together by pins at this point. His breaths were shallow, the heart monitor beeping much slower than Curt’s had been. He looked uncomfortable, even in sleep, and his face was twisted up the way it normally did when he was having a nightmare.

It was the most beautiful thing Curt’s ever seen.

His legs gave up on supporting his weight and he slumped half over Owen’s bed, being careful to not jostle anything as various medical personnel burst into the room. They shouted at him, telling him to get back in bed, but he could already feel sleep calling to him, all energy seeping out of him with the knowledge that Owen was safe.

Curt managed to smooth a gentle thumb over the crease in his partner’s brow, sighing quietly when it seemed to soothe him into a deeper sleep.

He was out before the first doctor even crossed the room.

The second time he woke up wasn’t nearly as eventful.

It was a slow process, and almost pleasant, like gently sinking back into his body after floating weightless through the space between here and somewhere else.

And maybe he was a little high off the morphine they were pumping into him.

Curt turned his head to the side, exhausted body protesting every inch, until he was able to look at the bed beside him. Apparently the doctors hadn’t wanted a repeat of last time because now he and Owen were placed right next to each other, barely a foot apart.

His smile widened as he caught his partner’s eye. Owen was awake and looking significantly better than the last time Curt had seen him, a little bit of colour back in his cheeks did wonders.

Owen cast an amused look at Curt’s heart rate which had been steadily increasing the longer they gazed at each other before smiling back at him.

“Hey, Owe.” Curt’s voice was rough from disuse and he noticed a water bottle left beside him. He carefully opened it and took a sip, relaxing a bit from the relief on his dry throat. “It’s, uh, it’s good to see you.”

His partner’s grin softened and, with a quick look around, he flipped his hand palm up.

“It’s good to see you too, love.”

Curt took the hint, sliding his hand into Owen’s and giving it a gentle squeeze. When Owen squeezed back, however lightly, it sent and overwhelming surge of emotion through him and he felt his eyes burning.

“It’s okay,” Owen didn’t bother asking what was wrong, they knew each other too well at this point to bother with pointless questions, “You got us out. I’m safe. You saved my life and I’m going to be okay.”

Even with the reassurance, Curt could help but choke out a few tears.

“You almost weren’t though. You slipped on my stupid banana peel that I left even after you told me to get rid of it. And I didn’t let you close the security barricades back up like you wanted to. And—” He cut Owen off when he tried to speak, “I almost set the timer for three minutes instead of four.”

A look of confusion creeped onto Owen’s face. “What?”

Curt let out something between a sob and a laugh. “Yeah. I was standing there, looking at the bomb, and I wanted to show off a bit, you know? I wanted that extra thrill that came with pulling off something that I knew was fucking stupid.” He was clutching Owen’s hand too tight, but he didn’t say anything. “And then there was this voice in my head that sounded like you. It said ‘Don’t do that, old boy. It’ll only get us into more trouble than it’s worth.’ I almost didn’t listen to it, but I had this nagging feeling that wouldn’t go away and, well, I’ve always trusted you. Even when you’re just a voice in my head.”

He gave Owen a watery smile and brought up his free hand to wipe away the tears rolling down his face. “You would’ve died, and it would’ve been my fault.”

“Oh please.” Owen scoffed at that, shooting him a mock-offended glare. “I’m better than that and you know it. It would take more that a several story fall followed by an explosion to take me out.”

He looked contemplative for a moment. “Although, I hope you’ve learned your lesson and plan on actually listening to me from now on. That banana move was moronic and if it had been what did me in, I would’ve put my body back together just to hunt you down and kill you myself.”

They both laughed at the idea.

“Yeah,” Curt said, “Your supervillain origin story: Slipped on a banana and then got exploded. They’d make a comic out of you for sure.”

Silence fell over them, the knowledge that they were both here and alive finally having the chance to properly sink in.

Owen’s expression shifted into something a little more serious. “Curt—” He cut himself off, trying to find the words, “Thank you for coming back for me.”

What a ridiculous thing to say. “Of course I—”

“Ah ah,” Owen tutted, giving his hand a gentle tug “I wasn’t finished.”

Curt leaned back as much as he was able to when already lying down and raised his eyebrows. Well? Go on then.

“You could have left. In fact, I’m fairly certain that Cynthia would have demanded that you do so in order to preserve your life and the blueprints that you had acquired.” Tears were now glimmering in Owen’s eyes, and he took a breath to compose himself before continuing. “But you didn’t. You put yourself in grave danger and through grievous bodily harm to get me out of there. Though Lord knows how you managed to pull it off with the time you had left.”

Curt remembers the sight of Owen sprawled out unnaturally below him. He would’ve done anything to save him.

A thumb rubbing over the back of his hand draws him back into the present and he look back at Owen. Owen with his crooked smile and his soft brown eyes and his hands that hold Curt like he’s something that’s meant to be cherished.

“I suppose that what I am getting at is that I love you, Curt Mega. I truly, truly love you.”

And… Wow. It was like fireworks erupted within Curt at those words. They hadn’t said them yet, maybe afraid that it would make what they had too real. Something that they couldn’t come back from.

But now, looking over at the man that Curt had spent the past few years fighting alongside, getting to know and treasure and love, he knew that he wouldn’t want to come back from it even if he could.

“I love you too, Owen Carvour. I’d throw myself down that silo for you even if I had set that timer for three minutes.

They stayed there for a while longer, simply basking in the glow of still having the other at their side, until a doctor came bustling in and Curt had to quickly withdraw his hand and tuck it safely away at his side.

She chattered at them and, while most of it was medical jargon that flew right over Curt’s head, Owen’s eyes were shining with something like hope, and he knew that they would get through this.

Then, Owen caught his eye, and the small quirk of his lips told Curt that he knew it too.

They could do anything as long as long as they did it together.

After all, spies are forever.

[raccoonfallsharder]

Blackmail Material masterlist

navigation | full fanfiction masterlist 18+ only | no use of y/n | f!reader | complete 3/3 parts | word count: 30,591.

a classic tale of "that fuckin' raccoon found your sex toy."

“I’ll tell you what,” he offers up, still grinning that shit-eating grin. “I won’t say a word and I’ll give it back to you. You can even keep whatever batteries are in it.” That sounds too good to be true. You raise a brow and cross your arms in front of your breasts. “If?” “If you let me watch you use it,” he challenges, eyes daring you. “For science.”

CONTEXT/WARNINGS: post-endgam/pre-vol3 friends-to-lovers smut with feelings. check each chapter for warnings.

UPDATE 3/15/2025: remember when i said i wasn't above writing a one-year-later epilogue? it's on the books for kinktober 2025.

all chapters behind the cut ♡‧₊˚✩

♡‧₊˚✩ Part One: Blackmail Material you've been hiding one - or maybe two - things from your best friend on the Bowie. unfortunately for you, now he knows. smut with feelings + fluff. sex toys, voyeurism/exhibitionism, impact play.

♡‧₊˚✩ Part Two: Self-Sufficience rocket deals with the emotional aftermath of your night together, engages in some kinda-sad masturbation, and learns that deep down, his most-secret kink is having sex with someone who loves him. fuck. smut with feelings + fluff. angst, sexual fantasy, dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), spanking.

♡‧₊˚✩ Part Three: Bioluminescent rocket finally decides what he wants. you're glowingly happy to oblige. smut with lotsa feelings + fluff, dirty talk, begging, light dom/sub elements, little bit of oral, references to impact play.

mdni & support banners @/saradika-graphics | lace dividers @/v6que | moodboards by me! ♡

[luzlylovely]

If I Didn't Care

It had been months since Easy had left Bastogne and its terrible exploding trees, its frozen dirt and shade of death.

Still, George felt the cold deep, deep in his bones. So far down that, no matter how he picked and scratched at it, some already-dead part of himself said it would never leave. Never thaw out.

Things were supposed to be simpler now that the Germans had surrendered. But, George’s friends were still dead and dying. Almost no one had enough points to go home, and Japan was looming ever closer on the horizon, so there was nothing to do but wait and worry and smoke and worry some more.

Read on AO3

@disastrouscanasta since you asked to be tagged on my last one!