#but if she ever did it would be in this moment lol

[aquaticmercy]

Waste a Moment / Part 9

Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum.

Requested by :  @remoony

Word count : 2.5k

Note : I've been writing a lot lately because I have a week's worth of break lol. Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

"Ticking Time Bomb"

Monday.

The next morning, you joined the team in the training gym. 

Bucky woke up early. When you got there, he was already there, casually leaning against a stack of weights, his ever watchful eyes tracking you across the room. He gave you a subtle smile that only you would notice, and the sweetness on his lips brought back his gentle touches and lingering kisses he gave you last night. It made your stomach flip.

You tried to focus on the training exercises.

You really did. 

You kept your stance right, threw your punches with precision, and were careful with your footwork, but Bucky’s presence remained a wonderful distraction. Every time your eyes met, you felt that same giddy rush, the kind that made it nearly impossible to keep your head straight.

It didn’t help that he was teasing you a little, too. During sparring practice, he’d tap your elbow to correct your form, his fingers lingering a bit longer than necessary. His hand would trail over your shoulder as he passed, a little reassuring, a little flirtatious.

Finally, after wrapping up another session with Clint and Scott, he pulled you aside to a quieter corner of the training room under the pretense of adjusting your technique. His voice was soft and he was close enough that you felt his breath against your cheek. “Need to keep that elbow higher,” he murmured, his hand sliding up to rest gently on your arm, guiding it into place.

But it was obvious neither of you was paying attention to technique.

“Right here?” you whispered, your voice playful as you met his gaze. You leaned into him a little, taking in his vanilla aftershave.

“Mmhm,” he replied, his tone softening. He leaned out of the corner quickly, seeing Clint and Scott excuse themselves from the gym to go to dinner together.

In one quick, brave moment, you leaned in and kissed him, a sweet, simple kiss that had grown frequent in the days leading up to this. Bucky’s hand came up to cradle your face as he deepened the embrace.

It was intoxicating. His lips, warm and steady against yours, had become another anchor in your life, a new memory blooming from nothingness. Every time he kissed you. everything around you started fading away.

a and you didn’t mind.

As you pulled back, still lost in his gaze, you caught a movement out of the corner of your eye. 

Yelena stood in the doorway, her silhouette sharp against the dim light behind her. Arms crossed tight over her chest, looking like a storm was brewing over her head.

You studied darkened the cut above her eyebrow, a stale bruise turning her cheekbone purple beneath the skin.

You caught yourself wondering if the marks were from her last sparring session with Bucky. They were of a similar intensity, but unlike him, Yelena didn’t have the luxury of a healing factor. Every pain of hers was so devastatingly human. 

As her gaze locked onto the two of you, her spine straightened. Her eyes, cold and unblinking, struck like daggers, dissecting the scene before her. 

And it made her stomach knot.

She didn’t say a word, not yet; she simply watched. Her expression was unreadable, but you could feel the tension radiating from her like waves crashing on the hull of a ship. 

There was a hint of fierceness in her eyes— something between anger and disappointment. Then, without a single word, she turned on her heel and walked out, leaving the door swinging shut behind her.

She had slammed it shut so hard that some of the weightlifting bars rattled.

You stood there in stunned silence. Your heart pounded as you glanced up at Bucky, who seemed just as tense. 

He tried forcing a calm look on his face, But you could feel the shift between you, a subtle tension lingering in the air, a crack in the heat of the moment you’d found together.

You stared again, at the door where Yelena had disappeared, a knot forming in your stomach. Her reaction lingered, simmering like a quiet echo of something you couldn’t quite place. You turned to Bucky, your tired eyes narrowing in confusion. 

You had told her how you felt about Bucky in the museum.

I’m happy for you, she had said then, you sound at peace with him.

She had not been disapproving then, why was she so disapproving now?

“Why is she so upset?” you asked. Your voice was soft, a note of worry beneath it. 

Bucky’s expression shifted so slowly, almost imperceptibly. His mouth pressed into a thin line. He was usually good at being unreadable, but in that moment, his face gave away more than he probably intended.

“It’s… complicated,” he finally said, his tone careful. It's as if he was choosing each word with precision. He reached out, his hand landing gently on your arm again. “But it’s not something you need to worry about. I’ll talk to her.”

“Bucky,” You searched his eyes, waiting for him to explain further, to give you a hint of whatever knowledge was lingering just out of reach, “if there’s something I should know…”

He shook his head, his thumb absently brushing along your forearm. “This is my responsibility,” he murmured. “You and Yelena… she’d always been protective of you. I’ll talk to her.”

His voice was steady, comforting, but the knot in your stomach didn’t ease. You trusted him, but something in your gut told you this wasn’t a simple misunderstanding. 

Still, you nodded, letting out a small sigh. “Ok.”

“She just cares about you.” His lips hesitantly curved into a small, reassuring smile. He leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You gave him a hopeful smile. But as he pulled away and walked down the hallway toward where Yelena had gone, the question still echoed in your mind, unanswered.

—

Bucky found Yelena down the dim hallway, her back against the wall, arms crossed. Her jaw was set, eyes colder than a December blizzard in Moscow. As soon as he stopped, she fixed him with a stare that sliced through him.

She didn’t waste a second once he approached, her voice low and sharp. “Have you told her?” she demanded, voice low and sharp.

He hesitated, a beat too long, and the silence was telling enough. 

Her laugh was quick, bitter. She shattered the illusion like breaking glass. “Of course you didn’t.”

“I—”

“You can’t just act like everything’s fine, Barnes.” Her voice, barely controlled. It sent a chill down his spine. The edges were raw, each word dipped in into her own pain.

“Yelena, listen—” he started, a warning lacing his voice. He was desperate, but she didn’t flinch.

“She deserves the truth, Barnes.” The words hissed from her, venomous and guttural. “Every time you look at her, every time you lie to her face with that perfect little smile of yours, you’re keeping her in this prison of her own head.” Her voice cracked, but her resolve did not.

A mask of defiance slipping over his darkening eyes. “It’s better this way.” He forced the words out, gaze fixed somewhere over the former Widow’s shoulder. “I’m here for her now. I don’t want to hurt her anymore.”

“Better? Better?” Yelena’s lips curled, disdain twisting her face. “You think letting her believe that you’ve always been this perfect guy is better?” Her voice had risen, words lashing out. It felt like she was striking him with another punch, the memory of her drawing blood from his lips echoing in his mind.

The accusation sliced through him, and his defenses faltered. His eyes dropped for just a moment, a flicker of shame surfacing.

“This doesn't erase how you were before,” she pressed, her voice lowering to something almost tender, almost pitying. “It doesn’t erase what you said.”

He tensed, grief flickering behind his eyes, but Yelena pushed on, relentless. 

“She told me, Barnes.” She took a step closer, her voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. “The night before everything went to shit. She told me you said you didn’t want her around. That you felt like you couldn’t breathe when she was near you.” She let the words hang, sharp, brutal, watching each one sink in and striking the target with lethal precision.

Bucky went still, his expression cracking open as if her words had ripped the scab from an old wound he thought had healed. His gaze dropped to the floor, and for a moment, he was utterly, devastatingly silent.

“I…”  he managed, “She told you that?” his voice barely a whisper. His face was haunted, raw, like she’d peeled back every layer he’d built up.

“Of course she did,” Yelena’s voice softened, saying it as if she was obvious.

“She came to me that night, shattered.” Yelena continued, but there was not a single hint of mercy in it. “She told me how she kept breaking herself apart for you, piece by piece, waiting for you to see— and then you broke her heart because you wouldn’t admit you loved her then.”

His hands clenched at his sides. His face was a mix of guilt, regret, and self-loathing. “I thought I was protecting her.” His voice was barely audible, frayed at the edges. “Keeping her safe from… from me. I didn’t know how to handle what I felt for her then.”

“You might’ve convinced yourself that you did it for her, but we both know it was for you.” Yelena let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. Her Russian accent was thicker now, her voice colder, harsher, as if she was trying to bury whatever part of herself might have sympathised with him. “You pushed her away because you were afraid, and now you’re lying to her because you’re still afraid.”

She was right, and he couldn’t deny it. Every instinct in him told him to protect you, to keep you from the truth. But each lie he told, each omission, was building a fragile illusion that he knew couldn’t last forever.

But he wasn’t ready to let go. 

Not now.

Not ever.

“One week, Barnes.” Yelena’s voice was like steel, her gaze piercing. “You have one week to tell her everything.” She took a breath, but it was laced with fury, eyes blazing with a dangerous certainty. “Or I will.”

“Yelena… don’t do this.” Bucky looked up, his eyes pleading, voice cracking. “Please—”

“One week.” She spat the words, leaving no room for negotiation. No room for debate.

There was a cold finality that seemed unbreakable. 

Then, without another word, she turned and walked away, her footsteps echoing down the empty hallway. 

Bucky now stood alone, desperate to keep what he had.

—

You cornered Bucky in the kitchen that evening, his back to you as he pretended to focus on cleaning up.

You could see the tension in his shoulders. He hadn’t been himself since the conversation with Yelena; something was up.

“Bucky,” you started, gently but firmly. “What’s going on with Yelena?”

He paused for a fraction of a second, then kept scrubbing a plate that was already clean. “What do you mean?” His voice was too casual, his face too carefully neutral.

You tilted your head, studying his movements. “Did something happen when you talked to her?”

“No. Nothing happened.” He forced a shrug, his tone dismissive. “She’s just being protective. You know how she is.”

“Bucky.” You took a step closer, lowering your voice. “I know when you’re hiding something. I can tell.”

He let out a deep breath, setting the plate down. “Yelena’s just… she worries too much,” He finally turned to face you, forehead creased with tension. “She’s your friend, and she wants to make sure you’re okay. Sometimes she goes a little overboard.”

“That’s not what this is.” You crossed your arms, frustration building. “There must be something specific she’s upset about. She barely looked at me when she left. Did I do something to hurt her–”

“No, doll, of course not,” He shook his head, a hint of guilt in his eyes, but he pushed it down. “She’s just… overthinking things.”

You took a steadying breath, unwilling to let it go. “Can you please tell me if it has something to do with me?”

He looked at you, a spark across his ruggedly handsome features. For a moment, you thought he might open up. But then he quickly shut it down, his voice firm with fake conviction. 

“Yelena’s got her own stuff going on,” he said. “It doesn’t have anything to do with us.”

“Darling,” you said softly, reaching out to touch his arm, searching for his eyes that wouldn’t yours. “Whatever it is… just tell me.”

Your eyes— loving, unwavering, filled with a warmth that wrapped around him like a promise. Your touch, it felt like a hand reaching out to pull him from the darkness he used to live in.

He couldn’t tell you. He wouldn’t. Not now, not with everything still fucked up and tangled inside him, not when the truth might shatter that beautiful, fragile trust of yours.

He held your gaze for a moment, but then he shook his head, his expression hardening. Instead, he lied, “It’s nothing you don’t know.”

He knew the lies were going to pile up, each one stacking higher, heavier, until they would threaten to crush everything he was trying so hard to protect. He’d known for a while now that things were slipping, spiraling out of control like a freight train without any breaks. What started as harmless omissions, things he told himself you didn’t need to know, had twisted into a web he’d tangled himself in.

He hadn’t meant to lie to you. 

But here he was, watching himself dig a hole so deep he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to claw his way out. With every false reassurance, every carefully hidden truth, he could feel the ground shifting beneath his feet, pulling him further into his living grave.

And you? You could feel the distance building between you, a wall he was desperately trying to keep up, and it left a hollow feeling in your chest. “I just… I feel like something’s wrong, and I can’t help but feel like you’re not telling me the whole story.”

Bucky’s whole posture tensed. He forced a smile, a half-hearted attempt to reassure you. “I told you everything, okay?” He lied again, the words stumbling over each other as he tried to reassure you. “Yelena’s just being Yelena. She’s overprotective. Don’t let it get to you.” 

He sighed, noticing how… aggressive he had been. 

He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering there. It was almost as if he hoped the gesture alone would somehow close the crater between you. 

“Let’s just… focus on us, alright?” he whispered, his thumb brushing gently along your cheek. His words sounded sweet, but they were thin, unconvincing. Even as he tried to comfort you, there was a wall you could feel but not quite see.

You could sense it— something he kept just out of reach, a small fortress of secrets he wasn’t ready to share. 

And yet, even with all the tension, all the unspoken fears, you trusted him anyway.

You loved him anyway. 

Maybe it was the way he looked at you, as if he was terrified of losing you, or the way he always reached for your hand, a silent plea to believe in him just a little bit longer. 

-To be continued

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@dogtorjae

[burningcheese-merchant]

Yes,more please!

More Yandere Beast stuff? At your service, three short headcanons for each one

SHADOW MILK

Has one specific Pure Vanilla puppet that he treasures and never brings any harm to. It's the most well-crafted and detailed one of all. He calls it his Mini Silly-Vanilly and he makes it and the puppet he also made of himself kiss and do NSFW things

Tries to be A Bro™️ and help his fellow yanderes win over their respective loves. He eggs them on when they feel like ranting and raving about their love lives (or maybe he just likes gossip and drama idk), helps mastermind courting plans, gives romantic advice of dubious quality, solicited and not (mostly not). His help gets mixed reactions. Tough crowd :/

Already planned their wedding way in advance, but keeps making changes because he's always hit with new inspiration (making them playfully chase each other all the way up the stairs of the Spire of Truth and Deceit, and publicly executing their enemies in increasingly ridiculous ways are staying put, though)

ETERNAL SUGAR

Got Shadow Milk to make her a Hollyberry body pillow. It's nice, but she ended up tired of it really quickly. She wants the real Hollyberry to snuggle and squeeze and use as a pillow. (She still uses the body pillow though)

Would very much like to steal Holly's dresses and wear them herself, even if they might not fit. Would also like a lock or two of her hair to put in a necklace, or make into a bracelet, or weave into the strings of her harp (wtf lol)

Has mastered dozens of love songs on her harp, both written and composed by others and by she herself, all to be played and sung to Holly. A significant portion of them are very dark and unsettling, but she either doesn't notice or doesn't care

MYSTIC FLOUR

Once thought of the concept of playing "strip Go" (like strip poker, just with Go) with Dark Cacao. No one has ever seen her turn so red before. She immediately barricaded herself in her room and did not come out for almost a whole week

Keeps replaying that moment where he was beaten and on his knees and she was caressing his cheek, tempting him to look up and into her eyes, in her mind over and over and over and over and over and over again. It has practically tattooed itself to the insides of her eyelids. She can't make it stop nor does she want to

Ends up wandering along the exact same path through the mountains that Cacao took while he was lost and alone whenever she leaves the Ivory Pagoda. Some deranged part of her insists that she might find him again if she keeps looking, and the other, equally deranged parts of her seem to agree...

BURNING SPICE

Absolutely fucking loses his shit if and when any of the Wild Spices speak ill of Golden Cheese at all. He can roast her all he wants, but the second anyone else tries, he 180s to "KEEP MY WIFE'S NAME OUT YO FUCKIN MOUTH" mode

Is so out of his goddamn mind that he's already attuned himself to both Golden's aura and her scent, so he can literally track her and hunt her down like a ravenous animal no matter where she goes. He is a predator in the truest sense of the word

Also often fantasizes about marrying Golden, like how Milk wants to marry Vanilla. But what he thinks the most about is the wedding night... and the night after that, too. And the night after that. Every night is going to be their wedding night, once he gets his hands on her... Every single fucking night

SILENT SALT

Keeps trying to write White Lily letters and poems detailing his feelings. They keep coming out wrong (aka they are extremely long and rambling, not to mention fucking weird and creepy), so he keeps throwing them away and starting over repeatedly

Has considered learning magic to impress Lily, but can't get the hang of it. (Has also tried to brew a love potion for her, but can't get the hang of that, either)

He never takes that helmet off, but his stare is nevertheless so damn pointed and downright oppressive that Lily can sense whenever he's watching her, even if he's dozens of feet away and she can't even spot where he is. He comes out when she asks him to, at least...

[the-winter-spider]

Willow | 1/2

Pairings: 1940sBucky x Agent!Reader, Bucky x agent!reader

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: Nothing really

A/N: This fic was inspired by @vibraniumqueen message sent to me!! Hope its sort of what you requested! I got carried away and now have to post this in 2 parts lol

Im not like the biggest fan of this buuuuut after writing over 15k words total for the whole fic i gotta post it lol ALSO i definitely did not edit this lmao oopsie

The door slid open, and in walked Nick Fury, his presence commanding the room as always. He didn’t bother with formalities; he never did.

“Agent,” Fury began, his voice low and steady. “We’ve got a mission. One that never happened, and one you’ll never speak of again.”

You nodded, your face impassive, though your mind was already racing. Missions like these were your specialty. You didn’t operate in the spotlight. You weren’t one of Fury’s public heroes or a celebrated Avenger. You were a shadow, a weapon honed in the dark, moving through the world unnoticed. A ghost.

Fury crossed the room, his trench coat brushing the floor as he moved. “We’ve identified a Nazi stronghold in 1941, deep in occupied Europe. They’re in possession of critical documents — plans and technology decades ahead of their time. We can’t let those files survive the war.”

You glanced at the map, your mind already calculating. “Time travel,” you said, your voice calm, though the weight of the mission began to settle on your shoulders.

Fury nodded. “You’ll be stationed as a nurse with the 107th Infantry. They’ll be arriving at a field camp near the stronghold in a few days. Your cover is simple: blend in, gain access to the target, retrieve the files, and get out. No deviations. No attachments.”

You resisted the urge to scoff. No attachments. That had been drilled into you since the beginning. You were trained to be invisible, to serve a mission and then disappear without a trace. Your past in the Red Room had taught you that much, and SHIELD had only refined it.

“I assume I’m working alone,” you said.

Fury’s expression didn’t change. “You always do.”

It was true. You were a ghost in every sense of the word. You’d spent your entire life operating on the fringes, never part of a team, never part of their world. You knew of the Avengers, of course—who didn’t? But they didn’t know you. You weren’t a part of their grand battles or their legendary victories.

Well, except for one. Natasha Romanoff. She’d been a fleeting presence in your life, a reminder of your shared origins in the Red Room. You’d trained in the same shadows, fought the same demons. But even then, you hadn’t truly known her. She’d been a specter of a different life, one that had moved on without you. While she got recruited there, Fury thought you were best suited in the shadows.

You refocused as Fury handed you a dossier. Inside were detailed maps, forged documents, and a small vial containing a glowing blue liquid. The device that would send you back in time.

“You know the drill,” Fury said, his tone as sharp as ever. “You’re not there to change history, only to secure our future. In and out. No one remembers you, and you don’t bring anything or anyone back.”

You nodded, flipping through the dossier. “And the 107th?”

“They don’t know who you are, and they never will. You’re a nurse. That’s it. But one name on that roster might ring a bell.” Fury tapped the folder, and you found it instantly. Barnes, James Buchanan.

The name didn’t spark recognition, but it did send a strange ripple through your thoughts. “Why him?” you asked.

Fury shrugged. “No reason. He’s just another soldier in the unit. But don’t let that distract you. This mission isn’t about making friends, and it damn sure isn’t about saving anyone who doesn’t need saving.”

You clenched your jaw. Fury’s words were a reminder of the line you couldn’t cross. You’d trained for this moment for years, honing your skills to perfection. You were designed to be unseen, unheard, and unfelt.

Fury’s voice snapped you back. “You’ve got your orders. Do your job, Agent. Leave no trace.”

You took the dossier and the vial, tucking them away with practiced efficiency. “Understood,” you said, your voice steady, devoid of hesitation. But as you turned to leave, the familiar mantra echoed in your mind: No attachments. No connections. You’re a ghost.

Later, when you finally opened the dossier, your eyes landed on a photograph. Barnes. The name was familiar, but it wasn’t until you stared at his face that something inside you stirred. A strange sense of recognition flickered in the back of your mind. You knew him—or at least, it felt like you did.

You flipped the page, your pulse quickening as more details came into view. And then, you saw it.

The Winter Soldier.

The words stared back at you, cold and unfeeling, but they sparked a storm of emotions you weren’t prepared for. You knew the name, of course. Everyone in this business did. The ghost story whispered in shadows, the assassin whose presence was felt long after he disappeared into the night. But what you didn’t know was the man behind it.

Your gaze drifted back to the photograph, and for a moment, everything else fell away. His eyes. Even through the grainy black-and-white image, they stood out—haunted, distant, yet somehow familiar. There was innocence there, a quiet humanity buried beneath the weight of the darkness he would come to bear.

You tightened your grip on the file, your knuckles whitening. Ghosts weren’t meant to feel, and yet here you were, shaken by a face from the past you couldn’t place but somehow couldn’t forget.

Flipping through the pages, you scanned his history—Brooklyn, 1941, the 107th Infantry. Your breath caught as more images filled the pages. Pictures of him before he became the Winter Soldier: laughing with other soldiers, standing beside a scrawny young man labeled Steve Rogers, of course you knew him as Captain America but no one would ever know you. Then, the darker photos followed. HYDRA. The experiments. The cold, dead stare of a man who had been stripped of everything.

The door to your quarters slid shut with a soft hiss, and for a moment, the silence was almost suffocating. You placed the dossier and the small vial of glowing blue liquid on the steel table in front of you. The mission parameters were clear, the risks higher than usual, but none of that was new. You’d done this before, moving through missions like a shadow, leaving no trace. Yet, something about this one felt… different. Heavier.

You sat down, the cold metal of the chair grounding you. Flicking open the dossier, you reviewed the details again, committing every piece of information to memory. Maps, personnel lists, cover identities. You’d be stationed as a nurse in a field hospital near the front lines. A perfect cover for blending in. Your forged papers were flawless, down to the tiniest detail.

Your name was different now. Your past erased, rewritten to fit the narrative of a 1940s nurse.

Ghosts didn’t get attached. Ghosts didn’t feel. You weren’t there to alter history or forge connections. Your mission was simple: retrieve the files, destroy them if necessary, and get out.

You pushed the dossier aside and picked up the vial, turning it over in your hands. The blue liquid shimmered faintly, a reminder of the power it held. Time travel was a delicate operation, one that required precision and absolute control. There was no room for error.

You placed the vial carefully into the injector and secured it around your wrist. The faint hum of the device powering up was the only sound in the room.

Your internal monologue began to surface, unbidden.

You weren’t supposed to be here, not in this timeline, not in their world. You’d been forged in the Red Room, molded into an instrument of precision and silence. SHIELD had found you, given you purpose beyond the shadows of your past, but you had never stepped into the light. You were designed to operate in the margins of history, invisible to the heroes who saved the world.

It hurt thinking of Natasha, her voice, her presence in the Red Room. She had been a beacon of strength. But she had walked away from that world, found a new family. You? You remained in the shadows, bound to missions that no one could know about, missions that didn’t exist on paper. You didn't exist on paper.

You stood and approached the small mirror on the wall. The face staring back at you was calm, unyielding. But behind your eyes, you could see the tension creeping in.

You’re not doing this for glory or recognition. You’re doing this because you’re the only one who can.

You reached for the pack of clothing and equipment laid out on the nearby table. The nurse’s uniform was meticulously crafted, down to the period-accurate buttons and insignia. As you slipped into the attire, you felt yourself becoming the role. The transformation was seamless, automatic, a ritual that pulled you deeper into the identity you were about to assume.

Finally, you secured the last piece: a silver locket around your neck. Inside was a tiny microchip, a piece of technology far beyond anything the 1940s could comprehend. It was your failsafe, your tether back to the present.

A soft chime from the injector reminded you it was time. You glanced around the room, taking in every detail, knowing this might be the last familiar sight you’d see for a while. Then, you pressed the button on your wrist.

The world around you began to shift, colors bleeding into one another as time folded in on itself. Your heart pounded, but your expression remained stoic. You’d trained for this, prepared for every contingency. You were ready.

As the light around you intensified, your final thought was simple, resolute: You are a ghost. Leave no trace.

And then, the world snapped into focus, and you were standing in a field hospital in 1941, the distant sound of artillery fire echoing through the air.

The mission had begun.

The salty breeze off the English Channel carried the smell of sea and steel, a sharp reminder of the battles waged across its waters. You stood at the edge of the field hospital camp, the makeshift tents and wooden crates around you blending into the mud-soaked earth. The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows as the air grew cooler.

From where you were stationed, you could see the transport ship docking at the pier. Its hulking frame loomed against the gray sky, the gangplank lowering with a heavy groan. One by one, soldiers began to disembark, their boots clanging against the metal as they descended.

You were trained to observe, to analyze every detail without drawing attention to yourself. These men were exhausted, their faces grim and hardened by the horrors they had faced. Their uniforms were wrinkled and stained, helmets tilted at weary angles. They moved like a unit, but each step spoke of personal battles, of stories carried in silence.

You stayed rooted in place, your nurse’s uniform a perfect blend of authority and anonymity. A clipboard in your hand gave you an excuse to linger, but no one paid you much mind. This was war. You were just another face in the chaos.

Your eyes scanned the line of soldiers disembarking, cataloging them with practiced precision. You were supposed to be looking for weaknesses, details that might help you blend in more effectively. But then, your gaze landed on one man.

He walked with a quiet confidence, his posture upright despite the weight of fatigue. Dark hair peeked out from beneath his helmet, and his steel-blue eyes scanned the camp with a soldier’s wariness. His face was sharp, shadowed by stubble, but it was his expression that caught you—equal parts focused and distant, as if he were both here and somewhere far away.

James Buchanan Barnes.

You knew his name, knew his story—or at least, the parts that history would remember… the parts in the folder. But standing here now, seeing him in the flesh, was something else entirely. He wasn’t just a name in a dossier or a ghost from the past. He was real, and the weight of that realisation hit you like a wave.

I’m like the water when your ship rolled in that night.

His arrival had stirred something deep within you, something you couldn’t explain.

You weren’t supposed to feel this way. Your mission was clear: stay invisible, complete the task, and leave. No deviations, no entanglements. But as you watched him, your chest tightened with an inexplicable pull. There was something about him, something magnetic.

Bucky paused near the base of the gangplank, helping another soldier with a crate of supplies. His voice was low, his words lost in the din of the camp, but the kindness in his gestures was unmistakable. He was a soldier, yes, but there was a warmth to him, a spark of humanity that hadn’t been extinguished by war.

You forced yourself to look away, focusing on the clipboard in your hand. Stay sharp. Stay focused. You couldn’t afford distractions, not here, not now.

And yet, your eyes betrayed you, flickering back to him as he moved through the camp, his presence impossible to ignore. You told yourself it was just curiosity, a natural reaction to seeing someone you’d only read about.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to wonder what it would be like to speak to him, to share even a fraction of the weight you carried. But the thought was fleeting, quickly buried beneath the weight of your training.

You are a ghost. Leave no trace.

The smell of antiseptic and damp canvas filled the air as you moved between the rows of cots in the makeshift medical tent. Their arrival—was what you’d been waiting for.

You were focused on checking supplies when a familiar commotion at the tent entrance caught your attention. A group of soldiers sauntered in, their uniforms caked in dirt and their faces shadowed with fatigue. Among them was a man who immediately stood out. His dark hair curled slightly at the ends, his blue eyes bright despite the grime smeared across his face. He carried himself with an easy confidence, even as he favoured one leg.

Your mission dossier hadn’t prepared you for the sheer presence of him.

As the soldiers dispersed to their assigned cots, he made a beeline for you. His limp was subtle but noticeable, and despite yourself, your training kicked in.

“Take a seat,” you said, your voice steady as you gestured to an empty cot. “I’ll take a look at that leg.”

Bucky flashed a crooked smile, his eyes sweeping over you with interest. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he said, his voice smooth, tinged with the faintest Brooklyn accent. “And here I thought this camp was all bad news.”

You arched an eyebrow, setting down your clipboard. “Flattery won’t get you out of a medical exam, Sergeant Barnes.”

His grin widened as he sat down, wincing slightly. “So, you know my name. That’s a good start. What do I call you, Nurse…?”

You hesitated for half a second, then gave him your cover name. “Nurse Johnson.”

“Well, Nurse Johnson,” he said, leaning back on his hands, “if I’d known there were nurses like you out here, I’d have gotten shot a long time ago.”

You gave him a pointed look, crouching in front of him to roll up the tattered leg of his uniform. “Let’s try to avoid that, shall we?”

Bucky’s laugh was soft but genuine, his gaze never leaving your face. “You’re all business, huh?”

You pressed lightly on his shin, watching for a reaction. “Someone has to be. Looks like you’ve got a nasty sprain, but nothing’s broken.”

“Guess I’ll live to fight another day,” he said, wincing slightly as you adjusted his leg.

“Barely,” you muttered, grabbing a bandage from your kit. As you wrapped his leg, you could feel his eyes on you, the weight of his attention almost unnerving.

“So, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” he asked, his tone playful but curious.

"Thats the line you're gonna go with?" The corners of your lips slightly turned as you tied off the bandage, sitting back on your heels. “Helping stubborn soldiers like you survive long enough to get home.”

Bucky chuckled, his head tilting slightly. “You got a smart mouth on you, Nurse Johnson. I like that.”

You rolled your eyes, standing up and crossing your arms. “And you’ve got a sprained leg. Try not to make it worse.”

He grinned again, leaning forward slightly. “You know, if you’re ever looking for a dance partner when this war’s over, I’d be happy to oblige.”

Despite yourself, you felt a small smile tug at your lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Bucky’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “You better. A guy like me doesn’t make that offer twice.”

Shaking your head, you gathered your supplies and turned to leave. “Try to stay out of trouble, Sergeant.”

“No promises,” he called after you, his voice warm and teasing. “But I’ll do my best if it means seeing you again.”

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but glance back, finding him still watching you, his smile softer now. Your mission had just gotten a whole lot more complicated.

The first few days at the field hospital were a blur of motion and noise. Soldiers came in with fresh wounds, some minor, others devastating. Your hands worked tirelessly, stitching cuts, setting broken bones, administering whatever pain relief was available. You moved through it all like a machine, your focus never wavering.

You’d trained for moments like this, where life and death were separated by a thread, but this mission wasn’t about saving lives—it was about staying hidden long enough to complete your objective. The files you needed were still buried somewhere in enemy hands, and every moment you spent here was one step closer to obtaining them.

Still, blending in was vital, and that meant interacting with the men around you. They were polite, for the most part, offering nods of gratitude when you patched them up. But one soldier in particular seemed to be making it his mission to capture your attention.

“Hey, Nurse,” a familiar voice called out one evening as you worked on organizing supplies. You turned to see Bucky Barnes leaning against the frame of the medical tent, a lopsided grin on his face. “Got a minute?”

You raised an eyebrow, but kept your expression neutral. “That depends. Are you here because you need actual medical attention, or are you just bored?”

He chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “Bit of both, maybe.”

You sighed, setting down the bandages you were sorting. “Let me guess—another soldier got into a scuffle and you decided to play referee?”

Bucky stepped closer, his helmet tucked under his arm. “Something like that. You know how it is. Boys will be boys.” His eyes sparkled with mischief, and despite yourself, you felt a flicker of amusement.

You crossed your arms, feigning exasperation. “Well, if you’re not bleeding, you’re wasting my time, Sergeant.”

“Ah, but see, you didn’t check.” He tilted his head, his grin widening. “Maybe I’ve got a battle wound you missed.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the small smile threatening to break through. “If you’re trying to flirt, you’ll have to do better than that.”

“Flirt? Me?” Bucky placed a hand over his heart, mock-offended. “I’m just trying to keep morale up. Can’t have our best nurse getting all serious on us.”

“Best nurse?” You arched an eyebrow. “You’ve known me for all of three days, Barnes.”

“Three days is all I need,” he said smoothly, his voice dropping just enough to send a small shiver down your spine. “I’ve got a good eye for people.”

You turned back to your supplies, determined to maintain your composure. “Well, maybe you should use that good eye to look out for your men instead of distracting me.”

Bucky chuckled again, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “I do that too. Multitasking, you know?”

You shot him a pointed look, but before you could respond, another soldier poked his head into the tent, interrupting the moment. “Sarge, we’ve got a situation by the south perimeter.”

Bucky’s demeanour shifted instantly, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by sharp focus. He gave you a quick nod, then turned to follow the soldier out.

“Don’t work too hard, doll,” he called over his shoulder as he left. “Wouldn’t want you wearing yourself out.”

You shook your head, finally letting out a small laugh once he was gone. Bucky Barnes was trouble, that much was clear. He was charming, confident, and far too good at making you forget the rules you were supposed to live by.

But he was also a soldier, just like the rest of them. And you were here for a mission, not for him.

Stay focused, you reminded yourself, though it was getting harder with every interaction.

The next few days followed a similar pattern. Bucky found every opportunity to stop by the medical tent, whether it was to check on his men or to toss a teasing remark your way. He seemed determined to pull you out of your shell, to coax a smile or a laugh from you no matter how busy or serious the day became.

One afternoon, as you were tending to a soldier with a shrapnel wound, Bucky appeared again, his presence filling the tent like sunlight cutting through a storm.

“Thought you might need some help,” he said, leaning casually against a supply crate.

You didn’t even look up. “Unless you’ve suddenly become a medic, I think I’m good.”

“Hey, I’m a fast learner,” he quipped, stepping closer. “Show me what to do, and I’ll be the best assistant you’ve ever had.”

You finally glanced up at him, your expression skeptical. “You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack.” He grinned, unflinching. “C’mon, Nurse. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You sighed, gesturing toward the supplies. “Fine. Hand me the gauze.”

Bucky’s grin widened as he moved to your side, and for the next few minutes, he actually did as he was told, passing you tools and supplies with surprising care. But of course, it didn’t take long for him to start talking again.

“So,” he began, his tone light, “you always this serious, or is it just an act?”

You didn’t miss a beat. “Maybe I’m trying to keep certain soldiers in line.”

“Ah, so I’m a bad influence,” he teased, leaning a little closer. “Good to know.”

You gave him a sidelong glance, trying not to let his proximity affect you. “You’re definitely something.”

The playful banter continued, but beneath it all, you felt the weight of unspoken truths. Every moment with Bucky was a reminder of what you couldn’t have, of the life you were just passing through. But for now, in the fleeting quiet of the field hospital, you allowed yourself to enjoy his presence.

Just for a little while.

The sun was setting, painting the horizon in hues of gold and crimson. The camp had grown quieter, the hum of daily activity fading as the soldiers took what little rest they could before nightfall. You were sitting on a wooden crate just outside the medical tent, enjoying a rare moment of stillness. A cup of lukewarm coffee sat in your hands, its warmth a small comfort against the cool evening air.

The sound of approaching footsteps broke the silence, and you didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

“Mind if I join you?” Bucky’s voice was softer than usual, lacking its usual teasing edge.

You glanced at him, your heart giving a small, inexplicable flutter. “It’s a free camp,” you said, gesturing to the crate beside you.

Bucky sat down with a tired sigh, his helmet resting on his lap. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet settling comfortably between you. He looked different in the fading light—less like the cocky sergeant who flirted with you during the day and more like the weary soldier you knew he was. His eyes were distant, reflecting the weight of battles fought and losses endured.

“You don’t talk much about yourself,” he said after a while, his voice thoughtful. “Most of the nurses here, they talk about home, family. You… you’re a mystery.”

You kept your gaze on the horizon, your grip tightening slightly on the cup. “Maybe I just don’t have much to tell.”

“Everyone’s got a story,” he countered, glancing at you. “Even ghosts.”

Your heart skipped at the word, but you kept your expression neutral. “Ghosts don’t have stories. They just… exist.”

Bucky frowned, leaning forward slightly. “Is that what you think you are? A ghost?”

You hesitated, caught off guard by his insight. He was perceptive, more than you’d expected. Finally, you spoke, your voice low. “I’ve spent a long time learning how to disappear. It’s easier that way.”

Bucky studied you for a moment, his gaze softening. “Easier, maybe. But doesn’t it get lonely?”

You swallowed hard. “Loneliness is part of the job.”

He shook his head, his expression gentle but firm. “Doesn’t have to be.”

You turned to look at him then, your eyes meeting his. There was no teasing now, no flirtation. Just quiet sincerity. It made your chest ache in a way you hadn’t expected.

“I don’t really have anyone to talk about,” you admitted after a moment. “No family, not that I remember. My parents… I don’t even know their names.”

Bucky’s expression shifted, his eyes filled with empathy. “Were you… a orphan?”

You hesitated, the term feeling both accurate and not. “Something like that. I was raised by people who didn’t care about who I was, only what I could do for them.”

The words hung in the air, heavier than you’d intended, but Bucky didn’t shy away from them. His gaze softened further, and he nodded slowly. “That’s a hell of a way to grow up,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

You shrugged, trying to deflect the weight of the conversation. “It made me good at what I do.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, his voice tinged with something that sounded like regret. “But it doesn’t mean you deserved it.”

You looked away, unsure how to respond. Empathy wasn’t something you were used to, especially not from someone like him—someone who seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve, even in the middle of a war.

After a long pause, Bucky spoke again, his voice softer this time. “You remind me of someone.”

You glanced at him, curious. “Who?”

“Steve,” he said with a small, fond smile. “He didn’t have much either. His mom passed not too long ago, and his dad when we were kids. But it's always been just him one way or another just fighting to survive in Brooklyn. Always getting picked on because he’s small, but he never gave up. He had this stubborn streak, always standing up for people, even when it got him into trouble.”

Steve Rogers. Captain America. You knew his story, but hearing Bucky talk about him like this—like he was just Steve, not a legend, because to this Bucky he wasn’t one yet—it painted a different picture.

“Must’ve been tough,” you said softly.

Bucky nodded. “It was. But he never let it break him. That’s just who he is.” He paused, his smile growing a little. “He can't throw a rock without wheezing but he never let that and will never let that stop him.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, the warmth in Bucky’s voice cutting through the weight of the conversation.

“He’s lucky to have you,” you said.

Bucky looked at you, his smile fading into something more thoughtful. “I’m lucky to have him too. He’s always been there, even when I didn’t deserve it.”

The vulnerability in his words mirrored your own, and for a moment, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the weight of your shared pasts hanging between you.

Bucky reached out then, his hand brushing against yours. “You’re not as invisible as you think,” he said softly. “Not to me…I see you Nurse, and the view is amazing”

The camp was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that preceded something terrible. The usual hum of activity had slowed, and even the soldiers seemed more on edge. You felt it too—the tension in the air, the weight of something approaching.

You were in the medical tent, organising supplies when the call came.

“Enemy movement spotted near the south perimeter!” a soldier shouted as he rushed past. “They’re coming!”

Your heart dropped. You knew this moment was inevitable. The enemy had been closing in for days, and now they were here. But it wasn’t just the impending battle that had your stomach in knots. It was the mission—the files.

You quickly grabbed your hidden satchel from beneath your cot. Inside were the tools you’d need to breach the Nazi stronghold, which was now dangerously close to enemy lines. You’d been waiting for this opportunity, but it was coming at the worst possible time. The camp was about to become a battlefield, and every second counted.

Before you could slip away, Bucky stormed into the tent, his rifle slung over his shoulder, his face set in a grim expression.

“There you are,” he said, his eyes scanning you quickly, as if ensuring you were unharmed. “They’ve called all hands. It’s gonna get rough out there.”

“I know,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

He frowned, stepping closer. “You okay?”

You nodded, avoiding his gaze as you tightened the straps on your satchel. “I’ll be fine.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, his suspicion growing. “What’s in the bag?”

You froze for a split second, but it was enough for him to notice.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said, his voice low but firm. “What’s going on?”

You took a deep breath, meeting his gaze. “I can’t explain right now. I just… I have to go.”

His jaw tightened. “Go? Where? The perimeter’s crawling with enemy troops, and you’re talking about running off?”

You stepped past him, but he grabbed your arm, his grip firm but not harsh. “Talk to me,” he pleaded. “You’ve been keeping secrets since the day you got here. Please, dont do this….What’s really going on?”

You hesitated, the weight of your mission crashing down on you. Bucky wasn’t supposed to know. No one was. But in this moment, with his piercing gaze locked onto yours, you realized you couldn’t just walk away without saying something.

“I’m not who you think I am,” you said quietly. “I’m not just a nurse. I’m here on a mission.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed “A mission?” confusion and concern mixing in his expression. “What kind of mission?”

You glanced around, ensuring no one else was within earshot. “I can’t tell you everything. But there’s something I need to retrieve from the enemy. It’s vital.”

His grip on your arm tightened slightly. “You’re planning to go out there alone?”

“I have to,” you said, your voice firm. “This is what I was sent here to do.”

Bucky shook his head, his frustration evident. “You’re gonna get yourself killed. Do you even have backup?”

“No,” you admitted. “This mission is off the books.”

His eyes widened slightly, and he exhaled sharply. “That’s insane. You can’t go out there alone.”

“I’ve done it before,” you said, trying to reassure him. “I’ll be fine.”

But Bucky wasn’t convinced. “Not this time,” he said, his voice resolute. “I’m coming with you.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the look in his eyes stopped you. He wasn’t going to let you go alone.

“Bucky—”

“No,” he interrupted. “You don’t get to push me away now. If this is as important as you say it is, then you’re gonna need someone watching your back.”

You hesitated, torn between the mission and the growing connection you felt with him. Bringing Bucky along wasn’t part of the plan, but the truth was, you knew he was right. The enemy would be everywhere, and the odds of surviving alone were slim.

“Fine,” you said finally. “But you follow my lead. No questions.”

He gave you a small, determined nod. “Deal.”

Together, you slipped out of the tent and into the night, the distant sound of gunfire growing louder with each step. The mission was about to reach its breaking point, and so was your fragile trust in Bucky.

But there was no turning back now.

The camp was already descending into chaos by the time you and Bucky slipped through the south perimeter. Gunfire echoed in the distance, mingling with the shouts of soldiers and the thunderous roar of artillery. The enemy was closing in fast, and every second felt like borrowed time.

You led the way, keeping low as you navigated the uneven terrain. Bucky followed close behind, his rifle at the ready, his eyes scanning for threats. The weight of your satchel bounced against your side, a constant reminder of the mission’s stakes.

“Where exactly are we going?” Bucky asked in a hushed voice as you reached a narrow trail leading toward the enemy-occupied forest.

“There’s a stronghold about a mile from here,” you replied, keeping your voice low. “That’s where they’re keeping the files.”

He gave you a skeptical look but didn’t press further. “And how do you know this?”

You hesitated. “Let’s just say I have access to intel most people don’t.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Fine. I’ll trust you.”

The tension between you was palpable, but there was no time to unpack it. You pressed on, the shadows of the trees swallowing you both as you moved deeper into enemy territory.

The stronghold loomed ahead, a dark silhouette against the night sky. It was an old stone fortress, fortified with barbed wire and patrolled by armed guards. You and Bucky crouched behind a cluster of bushes, observing the layout.

“Two guards at the main entrance,” Bucky whispered, his breath warm against your ear. “And a patrol circling every few minutes.”

You nodded, scanning the area. “There’s a side entrance near the east wall. It’s less guarded, but we’ll have to time it perfectly.”

Bucky smirked slightly. “You’ve done this before.”

“More times than I care to admit,” you replied, keeping your eyes on the patrols. “Ready?”

“Always.”

Together, you moved swiftly and silently, sticking to the shadows. When the patrol passed, you darted toward the east wall, Bucky covering your six. The side entrance was a narrow metal door, rusted and worn. You pulled a small device from your satchel, a compact tool designed to pick even the most secure locks. Within seconds, the door clicked open.

“Impressive,” Bucky murmured as you slipped inside.

You gave him a quick look. “Focus.”

Inside, the stronghold was cold and dimly lit, the corridors eerily quiet. You navigated the labyrinthine hallways with precision, your memory of the layout guiding you. Bucky stayed close, his rifle raised and ready.

Finally, you reached a secured room at the end of a long hallway. A heavy steel door stood between you and your objective.

“This is it,” you whispered, pulling out another device from your satchel. It was a miniature explosive, designed to breach the door without causing a large-scale alert.

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly. “You really came prepared.”

“Like I said,” you replied, placing the explosive, “I’ve done this before.”

The device beeped softly as you set the timer. “Stand back.”

The explosion was quick and precise, the door blasting inward with minimal noise. You and Bucky rushed inside, your eyes immediately scanning the room. It was filled with filing cabinets and stacks of documents, the enemy’s plans meticulously organized.

You went to work, quickly locating the files you needed. As you stuffed them into your satchel, Bucky kept watch by the door.

“So this is what all the secrecy was about?” he asked, his voice low but tense.

“These files could change everything,” you said, your hands moving quickly. “If they fall into the wrong hands, it could shift the balance of power for decades.”

Bucky nodded, his expression serious. “Then we make sure they don’t.”

Just as you secured the last of the files, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the hallway.

“Time to go,” Bucky said, his grip tightening on his rifle.

You nodded, and together you slipped out of the room, moving quickly and quietly through the stronghold. But as you reached the exit, the footsteps grew louder, closer. The guards were on high alert now.

“We’re not gonna make it out the way we came,” Bucky muttered, his eyes scanning for another escape route.

You pointed to a nearby staircase. “There’s a secondary exit through the upper level. It leads to the roof.”

Bucky nodded, and the two of you raced up the stairs, your boots barely making a sound on the worn stone steps. At the top, you found the door to the roof. It was locked, but Bucky didn’t hesitate. He slammed his shoulder into it, forcing it open with a grunt.

The night air hit you like a wall as you stepped onto the roof. Below, the camp was in chaos, enemy soldiers scrambling in response to the breach.

“There,” Bucky said, pointing to a nearby tree line. “We jump, head for cover.”

You hesitated, the drop from the roof to the ground far from ideal. But there was no time to argue. With a nod, you followed Bucky as he leapt, landing with a roll in the soft dirt below. You hit the ground a moment later, pain shooting through your legs as you landed hard but kept moving.

Together, you sprinted toward the trees, gunfire erupting behind you. Bullets whizzed past, but you didn’t stop, adrenaline driving you forward. Finally, you reached the cover of the forest, the sounds of pursuit growing fainter.

Once you were safely concealed among the trees, you collapsed against a trunk, your breath coming in heavy gasps. Bucky crouched beside you, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of pursuit.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

You nodded, clutching the satchel tightly. “Mission accomplished.”

Bucky gave a small, breathless laugh. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You met his gaze, the tension of the moment fading slightly as his familiar smirk returned. “So are you, Sergeant.”

Despite the danger, despite everything, you felt a flicker of warmth between you. The mission had tested both your resolve and your connection, but you’d made it out together. And somehow, that made all the difference.

The firelight flickered across the camp, casting long shadows as the remnants of the battle settled into an uneasy calm. You and Bucky sat on the edge of the forest, just beyond the perimeter, hidden from sight. The distant sound of gunfire and shouting had finally faded, leaving only the quiet hum of the night.

The stolen Nazi files were secure in your satchel, now buried beneath layers of medical supplies. You’d succeeded in your mission, but the cost weighed heavily on your shoulders.

Bucky sat beside you, silent for a long time. His rifle was propped against a tree, his hands resting on his knees. The tension between you had shifted—no longer marked by suspicion but by a shared understanding.

“You really weren’t kidding about being a ghost,” he said eventually, his voice low and thoughtful.

You glanced at him, the flickering firelight catching the sharp angles of his face. “I told you it was important.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Yeah. But you didn’t tell me everything.”

You looked away, the weight of his words settling over you. “I couldn’t.”

“Why?” His voice was soft, but there was an edge of frustration. “Because you didn’t trust me?”

“It’s not about trust,” you said quietly, your fingers tightening around the satchel. “It’s about the mission. It’s about keeping things safe.”

Bucky frowned, his gaze searching your face. “Safe from what?”

You hesitated, carefully choosing your words. “From things that could change everything if they’re not handled right.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, the soldier in him catching on to the weight behind your statement. “Sounds like more than just some stolen files.”

“It is,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky was silent for a moment, processing your words. Finally, he spoke, his voice tinged with awe and concern. “And you’ve been doing this alone?”

“It’s what I was trained for,” you said, your tone matter-of-fact. “No attachments, no distractions. Just the mission.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened. “That’s no way to live.”

You looked at him, surprised by the intensity in his voice. “It’s the only way I know.”

He shook his head, his expression softening. “You’re more than just a mission, you know. You’ve got a life, a soul. You can’t keep shutting people out.”

Your chest tightened at his words. For so long, you’d lived in the shadows, carrying the burden of your missions alone. But now, sitting here with Bucky, you felt the cracks in your armor growing wider.

“I’m not supposed to get attached,” you said quietly. “It makes things complicated.”

Bucky gave a small, rueful smile. “Too late for that….”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You felt a surge of emotion, a mix of fear and longing. You’d spent years building walls, but Bucky Barnes was breaking through them with every shared glance, every quiet moment.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky’s hand stayed on yours, steady and grounding. His touch was gentle, but there was strength behind it, a quiet reassurance that you weren’t used to.

“You don’t have to do it alone. I’m here, you know?” his voice soft but resolute. “I’m in this.”

You looked down at your joined hands, the firelight reflecting off his metal fingers. It felt like he was holding more than just your hand—like he was holding the weight of everything you’d been carrying for so long.

“I’ve never had this before,” you said, your voice trembling. “I don’t know what it’s like to lean on someone, to let someone in.”

Bucky’s thumb traced small, soothing circles on the back of your hand. “It’s not easy,” he admitted. “But it’s worth it. You don’t have to carry everything by yourself.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, the vulnerability of the moment making your chest ache. “What if I’m not good at it? What if I mess this up?”

Bucky leaned closer, his voice low and steady. “You won’t. And even if you stumble, I’ll be right here. We’ll figure it out together.”

His words broke through the last of your defenses, and a tear slipped down your cheek. Bucky’s other hand came up, his thumb gently wiping it away. His touch was so tender, it made your heart ache even more.

“You’ve been through so much,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You don’t have to be strong all the time. Not with me.”

You let out a shaky breath, the weight of his words settling over you. “Bucky…”

He leaned in, his forehead resting gently against yours. “You don’t have to say anything,” he whispered. “Just let me be here for you.”

The two of you sat there in silence, the fire crackling softly in the background. The world outside the camp seemed to fade away, leaving only the warmth of his presence and the quiet comfort of the moment.

After a while, you finally spoke, your voice barely audible. “You’ve made me feel something I didn’t think I could feel.”

Bucky pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “What’s that?”

“Hope,” you said, the word feeling both fragile and powerful.

His lips curved into a soft, bittersweet smile. “Then we’ve got something to hold on to.”

Without thinking, you leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. It was soft and tentative, a promise of something deeper. When you pulled back, his eyes were shining, and you could see the depth of his feelings mirrored in them.

“We’ll figure this out,” he said, his voice steady and sure. “One step at a time.”

You nodded, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through. “Together.”

Bucky squeezed your hand, his warmth chasing away the chill of the night. “Together,” he echoed.

And in that moment, with the firelight flickering around you and the weight of your shared pasts slowly lifting, you believed him.

In the days following the mission, the dynamic between you and Bucky began to change. There was a newfound understanding between you, a quiet bond forged in the heat of battle and the weight of shared secrets.

Bucky became more protective, often finding excuses to check in on you, whether it was during your rounds at the medical tent or when you were working alone. His teasing remarks were still there, but they were softer now, laced with genuine care.

You found yourself leaning on him more, allowing him into the parts of your life you’d always kept hidden. And despite the danger, despite the mission’s stakes, you had the files you could go back now and have exiled beating your initial time, but you stayed you couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, you’d found something worth holding onto.

But in the back of your mind, you knew the clock was ticking. The mission was complete, and soon, you’d have to leave this time, this world—and Bucky—behind.

The glow of the fire illuminated the night, the crackle the only sound cutting through. Most of the camp had settled in for the evening, but you and Bucky remained near the fire, sitting side by side on a fallen log. The warm glow danced across his face, softening the sharp angles and making his eyes shimmer like the stars above.

Bucky leaned back slightly, resting his arm along the log behind you. “So, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” he asked with a playful smirk, his voice low and smooth.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Really? That’s the line you’re going with….again?”

He grinned, his teeth catching the firelight. “What can I say? I’m trying to impress the mysterious nurse who keeps patching me up .”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to get on my good side.”

“Is it working?” he asked, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.

You glanced at him, your heart skipping a beat. “Maybe.”

Bucky’s grin softened into something more sincere. His gaze lingered on you, and for a moment, the weight of the war, the mission, everything else faded away. It was just the two of you, suspended in this fleeting moment of peace.

He reached up, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” he murmured.

You felt your breath catch, your pulse quickening. “Bucky…”

“I mean it,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours. “You’re strong, smart, brave… and you’ve got this way of making me forget everything else, even when the world’s falling apart.”

His words broke through the walls you’d spent years building. Before you could stop yourself, you leaned in, and he met you halfway. His lips were warm and soft against yours, the kiss tender but filled with a quiet intensity. Time seemed to stop as the world melted away, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the steady beat of his heart.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes were wet with tears. Bucky frowned, his thumb gently brushing your cheek.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice filled with concern. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, struggling to find the words. “I don’t know what to do,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

Bucky’s expression softened, and he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs tracing gentle circles on your cheeks. “Then let me show you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, his own tears on his waterline threatening to spill. “Stay. Please stay, for me.”

Your heart shattered at his plea. The sincerity in his eyes, the quiet desperation in his voice—it was almost too much to bear. But you couldn’t. Not when you knew the mission, the weight of your responsibilities, and the secrets you carried. You’d always been a ghost, moving through life without leaving traces behind. How could you let yourself stay, knowing the danger you brought with you?

“I can’t,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I wish I could, but I can’t.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed, his hands dropping slightly. “Why not? What’s stopping you?”

You looked away, tears streaming down your face. “Because… I don’t get to have this,” you said quietly. “People like me… we don’t get happy endings.”

Bucky stared at you, his jaw tightening. “That’s bullshit,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “You deserve this just as much as anyone else.”

You shook your head, your hands trembling. “You don’t understand—if I stay, things could fall apart. I’m not meant to… to put down roots. To belong.”

Bucky reached for your hand, holding it tightly. “If that’s what you’ve been told, they’re wrong. You don’t have to carry all of this alone. Whatever’s weighing on you… let me help.”

You squeezed his hand, your tears falling freely now. “I wish I could. But this isn’t goodbye, Bucky. Not really.”

His grip tightened, his eyes filled with pain. “How do you know?”

You gave him a shaky smile, your heart aching. “Because feeling this… it’s the kind of thing that changes everything. No matter where life takes us, I’ll find you again. I promise.”

Bucky pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he could keep you from slipping away. His breath was warm against your hair, and for a moment, you let yourself believe in the impossible. In a different world, maybe you could stay. Maybe you could let yourself love him the way you wanted to.

But for now, you clung to him, memorising the feel of his embrace, the sound of his heartbeat. This wasn’t the end. You wouldn’t let it be.

The fire burned low, its warmth fading, but neither of you moved. Instead, you lay back together on a blanket you’d pulled from the medical tent. The stars stretched endlessly above, their light soft and comforting.

Bucky shifted, his arm wrapping protectively around you as you rested your head against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, grounding you in the moment. He let out a soft sigh, his voice breaking the silence.

“When I was a kid, Steve and I used to sneak up onto the roof of our building,” he said quietly. “We’d lie there, looking at the stars, talking about all the things we were gonna do someday.”

You smiled faintly, imagining a pre-serum Steve beside him, small but full of fight. “What did you talk about?”

Bucky chuckled, the sound low and fond. “Steve always had big dreams. He wanted to do something that mattered. Join the army, help people, change the world.” He paused, his voice softening. “Didn’t care that he was too small, too sick. He just wanted to be better, to do better.”

You closed your eyes, the image of Steve Rogers—Captain America—so different now. But to Bucky, he was still that skinny kid with more heart than anyone.

“And what about you?” you asked gently.

Bucky hesitated, his hand absently tracing small circles on your shoulder. “Me? I just wanted to keep him safe. Steve’s always been the brave one. I just… I wanted to make sure he didn’t get himself killed chasing those dreams.”

His words were filled with so much quiet love, it made your heart ache. You lifted your head slightly, meeting his gaze. “You’re braver than you give yourself credit for.”

Bucky smiled, his hand brushing over your hair. “Maybe. But I think you’re the brave one here.”

You rested your head against his chest again, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. “We both are.”

The silence stretched once more, comfortable and grounding. The crackle of the fire and the distant sounds of the camp blended with the soft rustle of the trees.

Bucky’s voice broke the stillness. “Did you have someone like that?” he asked, his tone thoughtful. “A sibling? A close friend?”

You paused, your mind drifting back. “I didn’t have siblings,” you said slowly. “But I had a friend. Her name’s Natasha.” You smiled softly at the memory, though a hint of sadness crept into your voice. “She was like a sister to me. Strong, stubborn, always looking out for me.”

Bucky’s eyes softened. “She sounds like someone you could count on.”

“She was,” you said, your voice tinged with regret. “We went through a lot together, but… I haven’t seen her in years.”

He squeezed your shoulder gently. “Think you’ll see her again?”

You stared up at the stars, your heart heavy with longing. “I hope so. But with the way things are… who knows?”

Bucky nodded, his thumb brushing over your arm in a soothing motion. “If she’s anything like you, she’s still out there, fighting her own battles. And when the time’s right, you’ll find your way back to each other.”

You swallowed hard, his words offering a comfort you didn’t realize you needed. “I hope you’re right.”

The two of you fell into silence again, but it wasn’t empty. The weight of your shared stories, your losses and hopes, filled the space between you.

As the night deepened, you knew this moment wouldn’t last forever. But for now, you let yourself have it, holding onto Bucky like he was your anchor in a storm you couldn’t escape. Beneath the stars, in the quiet of the night, the war and the mission felt distant, like a different world entirely.

You stood near the edge of the camp, the glow of the setting sun casting long shadows across the field. The soldiers of the 107th were regrouping, preparing to move out. You spotted Bucky in the distance, his silhouette unmistakable as he spoke with his men. His voice was calm, commanding, but you could see the tension in his posture. He was ready for the next fight, even if his heart wasn’t.

And so were you.

You adjusted the strap of your satchel, your fingers brushing over the hidden compartment containing the files. This would be your last night here. By dawn, you’d be gone, pulled back to the time you belonged. Everything you’d built here—every connection, every moment—would be left behind.

But Bucky.

He made his way toward you, each step heavy with the knowledge of what was about to happen. When he stopped in front of you, the space between you felt impossibly small yet vast, like an ocean you were both struggling to cross.

“You’re leaving,” he said, his voice low, not a question but a statement, tinged with quiet resignation.

You nodded, your throat tight. “I have to.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, his eyes flickering with emotions he wasn’t voicing. He looked down for a moment, then slowly reached up, pulling something from around his neck. His dog tags caught the fading light as they dangled from his fingers, the metal clinking softly.

He held them out to you, his hand steady even as his voice wavered. “Take these.”

You stared at the tags, your heart twisting. “Bucky, I can’t—”

“Please,” he interrupted, his gaze locking onto yours. “I want you to have them, please”

You hesitated, the weight of the moment settling over you. These weren’t just tags. They were a piece of him, a symbol of his identity, of the man he was here and now. Taking them felt like crossing a line you weren’t sure you could bear.

But when you looked into his eyes, the quiet plea there shattered any resistance you had. Slowly, you reached out and took the tags, the cool metal pressing into your palm. Your fingers curled around them tightly, as if holding onto them would somehow keep him closer.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Bucky gave a small, sad smile, his hand brushing against yours briefly before he let it fall. “Just… promise me you won’t forget.”

Your chest tightened, tears welling in your eyes. “I couldn’t if I tried.”

The silence stretched between you, filled with everything you couldn’t say. You wanted to tell him how much he meant to you, how this short time together had changed something inside you. But the words stuck in your throat, buried under the weight of your mission and the future you knew awaited him.

Bucky reached up, gently cupping your face with one hand, his thumb brushing away a tear that slipped down your cheek. “You’ve been trained to disappear,” he said softly, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “But not from me.”

You choked back a sob, your hands gripping the dog tags like a lifeline. “I’ve never had this before,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I don’t know how to say goodbye.”

His hand slipped down, his fingers intertwining with yours. “Then don’t,” he whispered, begging one last time. “Stay. Please. Stay for me.”

Your heart broke at his words, the sincerity in his voice cutting through every defense you had left. But you knew you couldn’t. Staying here would risk everything—the mission, the future, his life.

“I can’t,” you said, your voice cracking. “I wish I could, but you know I can’t.”

Bucky’s grip tightened on your hand, his eyes searching yours for something, anything to hold onto. “Why?” he asked, his voice raw. “Why does it have to be like this?”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “Because this isn’t my time, this isn’t our time” you said quietly.

Bucky’s eyes glistened, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue, to beg you to stay again. But instead, he nodded slowly, his hand lingering on yours for a heartbeat longer.

“Then I’ll wait,” he said, his voice filled with quiet determination. “No matter how long it takes.”

Tears streamed down your face as you gave him a shaky smile. “You won’t have to wait forever.”

With one last, lingering glance, Bucky leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. The warmth of his lips, the steady presence of his touch, imprinted itself in your memory, a moment you knew you’d carry with you for the rest of your life.

When he pulled back, he let his hand fall, his eyes never leaving yours. “Take care of yourself doll,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion.

“You too,” you whispered, clutching the dog tags close to your heart.

And then, with every ounce of strength you had left, you turned and walked away. You didn’t look back, knowing that if you did, you might never be able to leave. But with every step, the weight of his dog tags in your hand was a promise—a tether that would guide you back to him.

I could feel you sneaking in, As if you were a mythical thing

[wrinkledtulip]

SMUT!! Caitlyn Kiramman x Fem!Reader

Caitlyn Kiramman x Fem! Reader

18+ Smut!! Fingering, praise, AFAB reader

It's my first time writing smut, or publishing on tumblr for that matter so pls be nice lol <3 Also this is unedited.

Life as an enforcer was always gonna keep you on your toes.

Whether it be chasing drunkards on the streets of Piltover, patrolling the overly large council grounds, or the occasional graveyard shift if the sheriff was cruel enough. 

But what you found most challenging of course, was learning to handle weaponry, at least the ones that weren’t your first choice.

For a strange yet defended reason, all enforcers were required in training to use a rifle, a standard gun. And so, had led to countless hours in the training facilities aiming for wooden targets. 

Technically, you could handle one. Yet your aim was not incredibly precise.

Ever since that Kiramman girl joined, the handling of guns seemed to reach for higher standards. Apparently her family was renowned for their handling of the weaponry. 

You hit the target every time but the sheriff expected bullseyes in a row. 

Huffling in frustration you reloaded the barrel, shouldering your rifle as you aimed once more. 

But as you peered through the iron scope, a posh voice rang out behind you. 

“You’re not hitting the bullseye because you have a poor trigger pull”

Kiramman. 

“Haven’t you got a cocktail party to be at Kiramman?” you huffed, lowering your weapon as you looked back at her. 

The two of you shared a brief moment of a solid yet intimidating stare, her blue eyes bearing down on you. 

You both laughed. 

“You know me better than that” she chuckled, knowing your words were nothing but playful banter. Despite her status and the other enforcer’s distaste of her, you had grown to like the girl. Though she had a tough exterior she was sweet and playful. 

“Come to show me up then I presume?” You said, rolling your eyes as she stepped closer to which her words caused her eyes to roll. 

“You know how pathetic it is watching you stand here for hours aiming over and over, we’ll lose bullet stock because of you” she spoke, shaking her head. 

“Well I have to practise, Marcus has been up our asses since he’s seen your shooting skills… he’ll do anything to keep you from winning if it means dragging the rest of us along” You huffed, shouldering your rifle again as you turned back to the range. 

“Oh” she sighed “I didn’t realise I had placed a burden like that onto you.”

There it was again, that softness that sought for nothing but do good for people. 

“I enjoy the challenge” you answered, hoping your truth would console her as you aimed and fired again. Your body shook slightly with the recoil as the bullet was about half an inch off bullseye. 

Caitlyn chuckled, shuffling through her pockets as she stepped behind you, balancing a coin atop of your rifle.

“Don’t you remember what I said before? Try again” she said.

“I don’t want your money.”

“That’s not what it’s for. I said, "Try again.”

She stepped back as you sighed, keeping your rifle still as the coin balanced on its smooth top.

You aimed again and as you fired, the echoing sound of a coin clattering to the ground could be heard.

“Now what was-”

“You have a poor trigger pull.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

You sighed, agitated by her unexplained actions.

“You should be able to fire without the coin falling, it means you move the gun as you pull the trigger and you can’t properly withstand its recoil” she explained, stepping back towards you as her hands reached out to your form.

“Your stance isn’t firm either. Open up your chest a little more and stand with your legs wider” she stated, her hands moving in correspondence with her words as she adjusted your shoulders and hips, her fingertips grazing your form.

“Try again.”

So you did, focusing as you aimed once more and fired. This time it was closer to the centre of the target, your body the stiller as the impact of the recoil began to subside. 

“Better. You just move the gun when you pull the trigger, learn to isolate your finger, you need more finger strength, I suggest working on that before you create a bullet shortage” she said with a small smirk, raising her eyebrows as she looked out to the target. 

“And how would I do that?” you huffed, lowering your weapon. 

“Just exercise it” she shrugged.

“And how would I do that?” you sighed, turning to her. In genuine curiosity you had no clue how to exercise it apart from just shooting, but that would waste bullets.

“I have my own ways of doing it.”

So that’s how you ended up in Kiramman’s bed, a withering mess as she showed you her own ‘special’ ways of literal fingering exercises. 

She had you bent over her lap, her legs crossed to raise your hips as her spare hand roaming over your backside as you moaned into her silk covers. The subtle echo of her fingers squelching in your hole could be heard.

"Not so tough are you now pretty girl?" she cooed, smirking down at you. By now you were bound to be leaking across her thigh as her fingers slipped in and out of your hole. Every time you inched closer to a release, she would just roam her fingers across your folds instead.

"Kiramman please.."

"My name is Caitlyn" she said, that dominant tone in her voice. The same tone she used to get you to lift up your own dress and pull your own panties down for her. God, it sent shivers down your spine.

"Caitlyn please-"

"You finish when I say you can finish" she commanded, her finger slipping back inside you, eliciting a long whine as you gripped at her bedsheets. Her fingers curled to hit that sweet spot inside you, sending electricity through your body as she only smirked at your needy whines. It was clear you were desperate for release; her fingers were soaked as a small stain began to appear on the fabric of her thigh as you leaked in need of proper release.

"I thought this was a finger exercise-" you whined out.

"It is, for me at least, you just get to enjoy the benefits of it" she said in that sweet little smartass voice of hers as her fingers curled up inside you again, causing another loud moan to slip from your throat.

"fuck, just let me cum" you whined, your thighs trembling in anticipation as your body begged for that high, evident in the pleasurable sounds that escaped your lips.

"Ask me properly and I just might" She said, continuing to slip her fingers in and out of you.

"Caitlyn please... please let me cum" you begged quietly, gripping at the bedsheets as you could barely keep it together anymore. She leaned in, whispering in your ear as she smirked, her fingers speeding up.

"That's a good girl" she cooed. You moaned needily.

Her fingers moved quickly inside you, sliding in to continuously press up against that sweet spot. Your thighs began to clench around her hand yet she persisted as she whined and moaned. You felt that knot in your stomach begin to build as your increased volume made it evidence, however Caitlyn showed no intention of stopping or slowing down anytime soon. Just what you wanted. Every moment felt like ecstasy as she pulled you to her high, shuddering and moaning as she felt you come undone upon her fingertips. She rode out your high, continuing to milk you of your essence until you settled to a whimpering pant, feeling her fingers slowly slip out of you.

You glanced back to see her tongue swirl around her own fingertips, your sticky consequences being lapped up by her tongue as a dirty smirk rested upon her face.

"Those aren't even your trigger fingers-"

"So? Is there a problem darling?"

"No."

"Good girl."

[manic-sapphic]

i know this is a running joke fr but i think there's a good reason for it.

lol like, only sw could find a way to make a sacrifice a selfish move.

literally, only decent thing she ever did was this moment - incinerating herself and the whole room. thanks for finally getting tf outta the way of these girls annnd uhh thanks for.. hmmm.. literally nothing else.

and like, i don't even mean that as getting outta the way of their love. though obvi she actively worked to keep that shit in shambles. i just mean - get out of the way of them living a healthy happy fucking life you old pos :)

but side note, i have had people tell me they think what sw said to catra before the room bursts into flames - was an intentional validation she "knew" would offer her & adora success w the failsafe that sw realized she wouldn't have.

and yeah i sincerely do hope that stupid bitch at least was emotionally aware enough to know that yeah - if she was the one to take adora to the heart, it wasn't gonna work. but even still, if that were true, that wouldn't mean taking the hit from the monster so adora & catra could continue on together somehow awards sw any credit for their success. a chance is never a guarantee.

adora and catra made every stride that had to be made on their own (literally and figuratively). everything shadow weaver tried to brainwash them w in the horde - every awful fucking instinct she worked to ingrain in them - they had to find the power in themselves to reach past all of it. to conquer the divide sw fucking created herself, and meet in the middle.

so no lol. sw gets no cred or love from me. (sorry if this post seems extra aggro tho, it's late where i am and i can't sleep, it gets me kinda irked sometimes lol)

sincerely, manic catra~

bonus tho here's a 3 second edit i found on yt celebrating catradora's freedom from sw ~

[dallasgallant]

Time period post: Soc’s

I just did one of these recently going over greasers and so I thought I’d go over Soc’s! Something to keep in mind is they aren’t really a subculture(really neither are our greasers) but are a defined group, clique might be the best word.

Ponyboy explains soc himself in the book by explaining its short for ‘Socialite’

Socialite:

is a person from a wealthy background who is prominent in high society. Who generally spends a significant amount of time attending various fashionable social gatherings, instead of having traditional employment.

Rich > popular

Soc does not automatically mean popularity and shouldn’t be seen as a stand in for a “popular kids”, however there’s an overlap and high likelihood they are popular but it’s not a requirement or the only aspect. The Soc’s are the rich kids.

In the sixties that likely means a two story house, two car garage, full kitchen, finished basement, central air etc. Nice new clothes and a nice car, they’re able to keep up with modern trends in just about everything. They’ll get records and stuff they like with relative ease.

There’s also the social aspect to being a social!

Being social-

Their entire life is about knowing the right people and being in the proper circles, they’re being reared to be the next proper socialites. Typically the women, men too but they’ll get a marketing, sales or board job that’s also primarily knowing people and cutting deals.

They throw ragers now but it’ll soon turn into garden parties and charity luncheons or company picnics. Building relationships and passing money around to each other and to whatever cause of the week they’ll pretend to care for or perhaps genuinely do but are so separated from everyone else it’s still tone deaf. We’re talking that kind of rich here.

For now Soc’s are still young, they may attend family events when needed but are largely left on their own to throw their own things… beer blasts, ragers. Getting in the news for their insanity but being praised in it the next day like cherry says. It’s a weird duality.

Appearance

To be a soc one has to be hyper-vigilant. One has to be presentable. One can never really be themselves or even know themselves. It’s hard to turn it off even when they’re alone, is there anything beneath that smile? Has it ever got a chance to develop? Bringing up Cherry again because she describes it so perfectly in a book that they’d talk without listening to themselves, just to talk, don’t even really know any of their friends but they’re friends because well— no one remembers.

They keep ramping up their antics just to feel something, anything. So you’re jumping greasers. You’re getting wasted. Wreckless, violent etc. might as well get it all out of your system now, it’s harder to burry when you age. They’re losing their minds a little constantly before they learn to completely harden. This is something still prevalent today amongst upper class kids.

Which, again don’t misunderstand me. They do have feelings and they are people I’m just explains how the pressures and demands of who/what they are often leads to completely losing yourself to the collective (there’s so many movies on this lol). Or just simply are lead not to care, too busy either networking or having fun to have a chance to think. Cherry mentioned something on this too, I think if they ever had a moment to stop, for silence or a sunset they’d explode. Need to fill themselves with noise and action to feel.

A lot of their more general behavior, that’s not influenced by the pressures of being Uber rich, overlaps with just plain and regular ‘popular’ kids in school. Not really knowing your friends or what you’re doing but you’re young and hot and you have fun so who cares really?

Soc = prep

While a soc isn’t interchangeable with Popular, they do tend to be. A better synonym would be the Preps/Preppies of the 1980s

Prep:

an American subculture associated with the alumni of college-preparatory schools in the Northeastern United States.

A prep is essentially a soc, just with more focus on the style of clothing and less the social aspect. It’s sort of the overlap with Soc and popular, as if you’re middle/upper middle class but popular and dress in the style you’d be considered a prep.

In the end, Soc refers to the “rich bully” whereas a Greaser is the “working class bully” as specified in my post on them. This is speaking in the stereotypical sense as the entire point of the story is people are more than the surface or stereotypes.

[tinkeli]

Stay. ✧ Rain Carradine x fem!reader

Warnings: Alcohol use, shameless smut, language

Summary: You've been pining over your best friend's ex for months. Of course, she'd never like you back. Probably.

Author's note: first post on tumblr in years, and also my first fanfic ever lol. English is not my first language so I'm sorry about any grammar mistakes, also wrote this when sick so it might be confusing LMAO. Anyways i need rain so bad it isnt funny anymore

wc: ~4,7k

✶

“Rain.” The name rolled off your tongue smoothly, as if you had repeated it a lot - which you had. To yourself, mostly. Tyler stood in front of you, his curious expression shifting to one of slight bewilderment. 

“Rain? You like her?” He spoke, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Tyler was your best friend. Knew you better than anyone. What he didn’t know was that you liked girls. More specifically his ex.

 Didn’t know. Until now.

You nodded, gaze drifting to your feet, almost shamefully. You knew he would never be mad at you for something like this, but it was still a difficult admission to make.

“Tyler, I’m sorry. I just-” You started, reaching out to place a hand on his arm, trying to ease him. 

“Y/n, It’s… Okay.” He muttered, giving you an unreadable look, his thick eyebrows slightly twitching, unsure. Tyler’s relationship with Rain hadn’t ended well, him still clearly having feelings for her. “At least she could actually like you.” He adds, chuckling dryly. Rain had realized she wasn’t into guys, that being the main reason for their break-up a few months ago. You gave him a reprimanding frown. That wasn’t something he should joke about.

You needed to glance away for a moment to gather your thoughts. You knew him. The way he was acting, he wasn’t telling you everything. Tightening your grip on his arm, you spoke, voice laced with guilt: “It doesn’t seem to be ‘okay’…” 

Tyler, ever the people-pleaser - at least when it came to you - gave you a weak smile. “It’s okay, promise.” He shook your hand off your arm to place his large hand on your shoulder. “Go for it, I say.” He spoke, pausing to swallow thickly. “What Rain and I had - it’s in the past. We don’t have any hard feelings, never had.”

You took a heavy breath, looking up at him. “Still… Would you really be okay with your best friend dating your ex?” You spoke quietly, grateful for the warmth of his hand on your shoulder seeping through your shirt and grounding you to reality. “Would it not hurt you?”

Tyler shrugged. “Nah. Like I said, what’s done is done.” He spoke, reassuringly looking down at you. “And who’s to say you won’t get rejected?” He added with a grin, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

“Funny.” You remarked sarcastically. But he was right. Did Rain even like you? It’s not like Jackson’s Star had lots of women (or people in general) she could’ve trusted.

✶

As you walked home through the dingy and filthy streets of the colony, clenching and unclenching your hands beside you, Rain was the only thing in your mind. As usual. Did she like you? Could she ever? Who even was she? Rain Carradine certainly was a woman of many questions. Ones you wished, prayed, you would get the answers to.

The next day, you were making your daily commute to the mines. Only a few more 9-hour shifts and you’d have filled the quota for getting out of here. Of course, nobody ever really got away.

You learned that when you were still young. The memory of seeing your parents so crushed over another increase in their required quota would always stay with you. They had died almost 10 years ago. It seemed that everyone’s parents were slowly dropping dead, being overworked since the age of 16. You were sort of lucky, having lost them before your age even reached double digits. You didn’t remember that much about the time you had with them. 

Your thoughts drifted to Rain again, as you walked through the crowded main street of the colony. You wondered if she ever missed her parents, how well she knew them. She was enigmatic. Every time you thought you were getting to know her, it seemed as if yet another layer of the walls she had built around herself materialized to replace the one you had just broken down. You felt like you didn’t know her at all, despite her having been a part of your group for 3 years at this point. 

You worked through your numbing mining shift, clocking out when it was 3pm. What to do now? It was Friday, so it was typical of your friend group - more like family at this point - to gather up in your favorite bar to get drunk and forget about all your problems. 

You headed home, utterly exhausted. You were glad it was only 3pm. You had time to rest. You took a hot shower, the warm water easing the aching in your body, before taking a short but effective nap. You made yourself some food and cleaned your small flat a bit to distract yourself.

Still, she found her way into every thought in your head. Especially her eyes - God, her eyes. The prettiest color you had ever seen. The first time Tyler brought Rain to meet the group back when they had just gotten together, you were all but enchanted. Her eyes were perfectly shaped, like the almonds your parents used to buy for meals on special occasions. The color reminded you of your favorite flowers - irises. You had only seen photos of them in books, but they were still your favorite. Her eyes sparkled like light-blue sapphires when hit by the artificial lights on the streets. Whenever you two would have a conversation, however short, you would have to force yourself to look somewhere other than her eyes for even a moment. 

Strange. Eye-contact was usually really not your thing.

Neither were blue eyes, really. Before meeting Rain, of course. For example, Tyler’s cousin’s icy blue eyes were kinda creepy. Pretty, yeah. But creepy. Like he could look right into your soul with those things. Full offense. Bjorn was an asshole. Though you had a soft spot for him.

How you wished you would get a closer look at her eyes. Much closer. You had spent more nights fantasizing about her than you would’ve liked to admit. Her mouth on yours, those strong arms wrapped around you, small but deft fingers fucking in and out of you. Fuck. You really have to get it together. 

✶

Time passed when you stayed busy doing menial chores. Soon, it was time to get ready to meet the others. You felt an almost nauseating excitement pool in the pits of your stomach, knowing you would get to see her. The excitement mixed with a debilitating uneasiness, having a hunch that you would make a fool of yourself in front of her, some way or the other. Still, you decided to put on your hottest dress. The short, black one that accentuated all your curves in just the right ways. 

You walked to the bar, luckily only a mile or so away from your apartment. You flashed the bouncer your ID, slowly walking inside. You looked around for the others, spotting Tyler, Bjorn, Navarro and Kay sitting around a table in the corner. You greeted them, settling next to Tyler. It was kind of awkward, since the last conversation you two had had was about your crush on his ex. 

You intently listened to the others talk, expecting Rain and her brother to appear any second, like they always do. Still, an hour passed. Then another. At this point, you were pretty wasted. Your filter tended to disappear when you got alcohol into your system, so you finally built up the courage to ask the others about Rain’s whereabouts. 

“Hey… Where’s Rain..?” You spoke, voice slurring slightly as you held a half-empty beer can in your hand.

“She should already be here...” Kay said, furrowing her brows and looking at the others, in case they knew. 

When no one had an answer, you started to feel the worry in your stomach build, making your stomach churn. It sobered you up. Rain was never late. You had learned that in your many months of observing her.

“Should we go check on her?” Tyler asked, the unease evident in his voice as well.

“I’ll go.” You slid out of your seat, not leaving any room for arguments. It was strange enough that she was late. Even stranger that Andy hadn’t shown up to tell you guys about it.

You ditched the group despite their protests about going outside, drunk and alone, dressed in that tiny dress. You knew where Rain lived. She had gotten her own apartment near the others’ trailer after her and Tyler broke up - she didn’t want to be around him much. Things got back to normal, but she decided to keep living there with Andy. Said it suited her more.

You slightly stumbled while walking up the stairs, past the other apartments. It was honestly a miracle that you managed to find the right door in such a state of panic and intoxication. You knocked on the door frantically. “Rain! Andy!” You yelled, pressing your ear against the door to listen for any movements.

Sure enough, you heard shuffling from behind the door. You leaned back just before the door swung open, revealing a tired-looking Rain.

“Hey.” She spoke quietly, her eyes taking in your disheveled appearance. “You been through a hurricane?”

You let out an audible sigh of relief.

“You didn’t come. T-to the bar, I mean.” You explained, breathless. God. You had never been so glad to see her.

 Even now, you couldn’t help your eyes trailing from her eyes to the clothes she was wearing. Or the lack of them. Rain was clad in only short shorts and a tank top. Your breath hitched in your throat as you took in the sight.

“Didn’t feel like it.” She spoke nonchalantly and shrugged. She gave you a look. Must’ve noticed you ogling at her. Shit.

“Come in. You look like hell.” She said, voice warming up a bit.

You felt your stomach flutter with the force of at least a thousand butterflies. Still, you complied - of course you did.

You shook your shoes off, following her into her small flat. She sat down on the couch, looking up at you with an unreadable expression. You swallowed, following her and gingerly sitting down next to her. 

A tense silence fell between the two of you. You two rarely hung out alone.

“So… Any reason you wanted me here?” You spoke carefully, trying your best to pronounce your words clearly despite being drunk and still reeling from the panic you were feeling the whole way there. 

Sitting there, just you and her, made your insides twist in nervousness. You studied her profile, her beautifully sloped nose, the way her brown hair was messily tied up, but still somehow managed to look put together.

After a moment, Rain responded.

“Not really. Jus’ felt lonely. Andy’s been installing some kinda software update for an hour now.” She spoke, taking a sip off the almost full aspen beer bottle on the coffee table.

“So you’re drinking alone ‘cause you feel lonely? Even though you could’ve come to the bar with us?” You felt the earlier panic and worry subside now that you had found her, giving way to your usual drunken demeanor.

She gave you a small chuckle. Her smile was so pretty. Pure.

“Guess so.” She muttered, taking a larger swig, finishing the bottle in one go.

Fuck, that was hot. You couldn’t take your eyes off the way she let her head fall back, how her throat moved when she swallowed. You felt a warm thrum low in your stomach, instinctively bringing your thighs closer together when you felt your core ache for her, getting wetter by the second. Why did beer always have to make you so damn horny? You cleared your throat nervously, trying not to stare at her too hard.

“Got any more beer for me? Since you’re evidently not letting me back to the bar.” You tried sounding casual, shifting to a bit more comfortable position on the couch.

She scoffed, but got up and walked to the fridge. “If you want to leave, I can’t stop you.” She spoke, walking back to the couch with a couple of bottles for the both of you. She sat down and passed you a bottle. “I just… Hope you don’t.” She added more quietly.

Her words made your heart skip a beat, and you tried your best to hide any signs of the turbulence happening through your entire body.

“I… I won’t leave.” You choked out, gripping the beer bottle tighter as your gaze involuntarily wandered to her almost bare legs. The legs you had often pictured on your shoulders, your face buried in her pussy. Fuck…

“You okay?” She shifted closer, leaning closer to your face. “You look a bit flushed…”

Oh fuck she’s right there. You gave her a smile that was a bit too wide, nodding. “Oh, i-it’s probably just… Just the alcohol.” You stammered, your grip on the beer bottle tightening.

“If you say so…” She muttered. You almost exhaled in relief, but she didn’t move away completely, just leaning back slightly. She stayed there, close, looking at you intently. You tore your gaze away from hers to take a sip of the crappy beer you all had gotten used to drinking.

“Are you and Tyler together?” You suddenly heard Rain nonchalantly speak from beside you, making you almost spit out your drink. 

“Oh- fuck no.” You chuckled dryly. “Just friends. He’s more like a brother to me than anything.” You add, wanting to make your relationship with him abundantly clear.

She hummed thoughtfully at that, taking a small sip of beer, before meeting your gaze again.

“Have you ever been together with anyone?” She questioned, slightly tilting her head to the side. God, how was she always so calm? You felt like you were about to combust.

“No… Just some random hookups in bars.” You mused, absentmindedly rotating the beer bottle in your hand. “Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering…” She drawled, giving you a strange look. She was smirking at you, her expression almost smug. 

You finished your beer bottle, setting it onto the wooden coffee table with a clink. As you settled back onto the couch, you noticed the way she was slightly leaning towards you while facing forward, nearly laying her head on your shoulder. You felt the butterflies make their return, the almost nauseating flutter making you swallow and slightly tense up.

“You sure you’re okay..?” She spoke quietly and turned to face you, placing a hand on your thigh like it was nothing. You immediately looked at her hand, eyes widening. You forced yourself to meet her gaze, opening your mouth to speak. But no words came out.

“What’s the matter, y/n?” She rolled her tongue across her lower lip, making direct eye contact with you. Your breath hitched as you saw her gaze flicker down to your lips for a fraction of a moment, before returning to your panicked eyes.

Her eyes were dark. The pretty blue irises were almost completely eclipsed by her pupils. Had she done drugs? You cluelessly thought to yourself, so oblivious to what Rain was thinking about. Her hand tightened on your thigh, and she leaned closer and closer, until you could see every little pore on her skin, even in the dim light. Is she oka-

And then, her lips were on yours.

It took a moment for you to register what was happening, only coming back to reality once you felt her small hand on your almost hot cheek, the other still on your thigh.

You immediately felt all reason fly out the window, your hand snaking up her back to her neck to grab onto something - anything. All you could think about was how much you needed to touch her. 

You tilted your head to deepen the kiss, your grip on her neck slightly tightening as you felt her tongue enter your mouth. She was really good at this, her tongue swirling around yours, tasting you. She took her hand off your cheek, placing it on your waist, her other hand running up your thigh to your hip. Without breaking the kiss, she pulled you to her lap, making you straddle her.

One of her hands inched onto your back, her fingers teasingly running over the zipper of your dress. She pulled away, looking up at you with an intensity you had never seen on her face. She looked otherworldly, her eyes half-lidded with arousal, lips glistening with saliva.

“You have no idea how much I want you.” She whispered breathlessly. “You knew exactly what you were doing,” She paused to nip at your neck, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. “Coming to my place in that dress.” She continues placing wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, slowly opening the zipper on your back.

You damn near moaned at just her words, her every touch making your blood run hotter and hotter. She lazily rolled the short hem of your dress above your ass, pulling the item over your head. She let it fall to the floor, taking in the sight in front of her. She looked up at you with a cocky smirk. “You’re not even wearing a bra…” She drawled, sounding almost condescending.

You didn’t have much time to dwell on her tone of voice, her hands moving to palm at your tits greedily. “So perfect…” She sighed shakily, leaning down slightly in order to give your nipple a tentative lick. You whined at the sensation, hearing her chuckle against your skin. 

Rain started licking, sucking, and nibbling at your breast while her other hand pinched and flicked at the other, making your head fall back. You shivered and gasped at the sensations she was making you feel, certainly far better at this than the random drunk girls you had hooked up with before.

Still, it wasn’t enough. The shivers of pleasure coursed straight to your aching core, your panties already soaked, uncomfortably so. Your hands grasped at her muscular arms desperately as you looked down at her. “Please, Rain… More.” You breathed, voice trembling with arousal. 

“Fine, fine…” She shook her head in resignation. “Lie down for me.” She purred, letting you get off her lap and lie on the surprisingly comfortable couch. She was on you instantly, forearms planted on either side of your head as her lips crashed onto yours. Her knee nestled between your legs, grinding against your arousal. You moaned into her mouth, the slight relief making you rub against her leg desperately.

“You’re so needy…” She muttered, looking at you underneath her. Her face was flushed, and eyes practically glazed over with lust. “Need’a taste you.” She whispered huskily, even just her voice making you gush. “Please…” You whined as she planted kisses down your neck, nibbling at your collarbone, definitely leaving a mark. She slowly moved down your body, showering it with little bites and kisses, before reaching the waistband of your panties.

“Fuck, you’re wet.” She mused under her breath, placing her hands onto your inner thighs, pushing them apart and pressing a finger against your damp panties. You inhaled sharply, quietly whining as she began to lightly circle your clit. “So pretty…” She murmured, increasing the pressure. You instinctively snapped your hips towards her, needing more. She let out a low chuckle, enjoying the reactions she was able to draw out of you. “Want me to take these off?”

You nodded frantically, lifting your hips slightly to allow her to carefully slide the last article of clothing off you. She lowered herself down to her stomach, inhaling the scent of your arousal. 

“Please, Rain-” You whined, hands clenching around the couch’s soft cushion.

“Please what?” She grinned up at you, tilting her head slightly. “Use your words, sweetie.”

“Please, eat me out!” You whimpered, your hand subconsciously moving to grab the hair on the back of her head.

“‘Atta girl.” She purred, plunging her face into your dripping pussy. She licked a stripe across the length of your core, tasting you. You let out a soft moan, trying to keep your body as still as possible. Her hands grabbed at your thighs, keeping the spread apart with ease as she worked, lapping up your juices, using the tip of her tongue precisely, making your legs shake. She dipped her tongue inside you, essentially fucking you with it. God, no one had ever eaten you out this well. You let out needy whines and moans, probably a bit too loud for Rain’s neighbors. But neither of you cared, so lost in the moment.

Your head fell back as Rain slid two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out in tandem with her mouth’s movements. Her fingers curled up, just enough to hit that spot that makes you lose it. You were so close. “Rai-in..!” You whined, tightening your grip in her hair. “...’M so- close!” Your words were pathetically desperate and slurred, the movements of her fingers and mouth making the pleasure coil in your stomach.

Then, she pulled away. You whined at the loss, looking down at her with a downright devastated expression. “Not yet.” She tutted, making eye contact with you as she licked her fingers clean. “Wanna enjoy this…” 

After a moment of kissing and sucking at the soft flesh of your inner thighs, she leaned back down again, her breath hitting your oversensitive core. You groaned, your hand in her hair tightening but not pushing her down. “Now, what do we say, sweetie?” She spoke, rubbing up and down your thigh.

“Please.” You choked out, earning a smirk from her.

“Good girl.” She continued what she was doing earlier, her tongue drawing shapes and letters onto your folds and clit. Her fingers returned to your entrance, teasing it a bit before slipping inside again. It didn’t take long for her to have you a moaning, panting mess again. You started to feel the tension in your stomach build, until you were teetering right on the edge.

“Come on my face, baby.” Rain chuckled against you, giving you one last languid lick and sending you right over the edge. Your walls clenched around her fingers as you did exactly what she told you to. Your head fell back with a loud moan of her name, your whole body tensing momentarily as all you saw were stars. She coaxed you through your orgasm, slowly moving her tongue against you. She got up from her position between your legs, hovering over you with a smirk on her face.

Your eyes fluttered open to see her on top of your breathless body. She looked ethereal. Her hair was ruffled, cheeks flushed a light shade of pink, lips and chin glistening with saliva and your juices. Jesus Christ…

“You’re so beautiful…” You muttered, running your thumb over her lower lip and bringing it to your own lips to taste yourself, keeping eye contact. You noticed how she slightly twitched at the sight, clearly struggling with her own neediness.

“I wanna make you feel good, too…” You looked up at her almost pleadingly, meeting her large, oh so pretty eyes.

Rain grinned. “How could I say no to that?”

She pulled you on top of her, her hands on your waist. Panting, lips slightly parted, you looked at her splayed out underneath you.

You leaned in to capture her lips in a kiss trailing your hand lower down her body, playing with the hem of her shirt. One of her hands tangled in your hair while the other stayed on your waist.

You broke the kiss for a moment, pulling her tank top over her head. Seeing her bare chest and stomach made your stomach do a flip. “You’re so… so hot.” You muttered in awe, hands lightly running down her sides. She gave you a coy smile in response.

You began trailing kisses down her neck, making her gasp and shiver underneath you. Slowly your hands made their way to her shorts, and you hooked your thumbs under the waistband, tugging them off almost frantically.

You pressed your fingers against her damp panties, applying just enough pressure to make her desperate for more. It took all you had not to tear her panties off and eat her out until she came on your face. You needed to be patient. The sounds of Rain’s soft whines, the ruffling of fabric, and your heavy breathing filled the air of the otherwise quiet apartment.

“Take them off already…” She frustratedly huffed, which you chuckled at, complying. You carefully pulled her panties off her legs, discarding them to the floor next to you. 

Seeing Rain completely bare in front of you almost made you come again. You had been waiting for this moment for months. You took a shaky breath, leaning in to place a surprisingly soft kiss onto her lips, palming at her breasts. They felt just right, the warm and soft flesh fitting perfectly into your slightly cupped hands. She moaned into your mouth, making you shiver with anticipation.

You trailed your hands lower, one settling on her hip bone, the other running between her slick folds, eliciting a sharp inhale from her. Your index and middle fingers lightly circled her clit, making her whine louder, arching her back and squirming. You pulled away from the kiss for a moment to look at her reactions, the way her brows knitted together, how her eyes fluttered shut when applying pressure to just the right spots. 

You teased her entrance with your fingers, slowly inserting one, then two fingers. It took a few tentative pumps to find the right angle to curl your fingers at. Her head fell back with a high-pitched cry, a sound you thought you would never hear her utter. You smirked at her reaction, picking up the pace, grinding your palm onto her clit as obscene squelching sounds resonated from your fingers moving inside her.

“Please… Your mouth..!” Rain mewled, sending a jolt of excitement coursing through your entire body. “Of course.” You murmured, settling yourself between her legs. You inhaled her intoxicating scent, making your head spin more than any beer you had drunk.

You dove into her folds fearlessly, your other hand gripping her thigh while the other kept moving inside her. You gave her core an earnest lick across the whole length like she had done to you, feeling her hand fly to your hair and grab onto it desperately.

“F-fuck...” She groaned as you began to lap at her, tasting every spot your tongue could reach, flicking and running across all the places that made her moan. Your fingers worked steadily as your tongue flickered over her clit, using your flat tongue to make her whole body arch against you. As you edged her closer and closer to release, her hand tightened in your hair, the slight pain turning to pleasure - it was Rain doing this to you after all.

“Y/n– I’m close.” She gasped, her legs trembling slightly. You hummed against her, ever so slightly increasing the fervor of your movements. After a beat, her hand clenched around your hair, the other grasping at the edge of the couch. “Ah- y/n!” She cried out, her walls fluttering around your fingers as the waves of pleasure crashed over her. You did what she had done to you, lightly licking at her as she came down from her high.

You timidly get up from between her legs, returning to hover on top of her. You reach out to caress her cheek, affectionately rubbing circles on her skin with your thumb.

“You did so good.” She praised, voice husky from the exertion. You smiled wide. Looking at her, flushed and breathing heavily, you felt your heart swell, knowing you were the one who made her feel like this, made her feel good. 

You carefully lowered yourself into a lying position on top of her, utterly exhausted. A comfortable silence fell between the two of you as your breathing evened out.

“Will you stay the night?” She quietly, almost shyly, spoke, playing with your hair.

You nodded. “Of course.”

For a moment, you wondered if the others would worry about the two of you disappearing. But it didn’t really matter to either of you at that moment. 

✶

Thanks for reading!! Feedback is appreciated <3

[oodlyenough]

arcane s2 act 1

alright might as well collect my thoughts for posterity

first and foremost: obviously the triumphant cackle i was doing the entire hexcore scene. huge W for me, personally. did it always feel like the most logical and narratively satisfying extension from s1? sure. do i trust television to do the most narratively satisfying thing? no. especially not after fandom spent years of the hiatus trying to convince me otherwise

really all the jayvik scenes were, more or less, exactly what i expected/wanted and very satisfying lmaooo. i knew jayce wouldn't give a fuck about the shimmer or unethical experiments. i win!

other stuff i liked:

in the hiatus i've now seen all of yellowjackets and it has made me fonder of ella purnell and by extension jinx, lol. i love sevika and i think their grudging alliance in the wake of silco's death is a fun direction. jinx finding a random dumpster baby and adopting them immediately, silco would be so proud lmfao

i love caitlyn's dictator arc. i have to be honest i found her disney princess schtick in s1 pretty boring, so this is finally something more flawed and dynamic for me to invest in. yes girl get worse

ambessa rules. i was a little rolling my eyes at the "wow she was pulling the strings all along" reveal, bc it was so obvious and i was sort of hoping they'd do something more interesting with her. but this show has never been subtle. either way it still seems ambessa believes she's protecting mel? so i AM curious about how that plays out

i don't know shit about the league lore around the black rose stuff and don't want to <3 knowing league lore has never improved my arcane experience. but those sequences were very cool and took me by surprise. some good body horror with elora. good luck in the nightmare labyrinth mel!

stuff i liked less:

i think the stylized music video sequences are being a little overused. maybe s1 did them as frequently and I forget? anyhow, the police brutality one really worked for me, because it's the kind of info that def needs to be montaged, and the style was cool and engaging. cassandra's funeral ... i understand why they did it but i didn't like the regular arcane models mixed with the charcoal bgs, i found it distracted me from what was meant to be the emotion of the moment. and the jinx montage i found kind of mid.

i do think the pacing feels as breakneck as ever, to its detriment. i said above the jayvik stuff all played out basically as i wanted, which is more-or-less true, but viktor just be like I Have To Go Now was a bit abrupt. i can excuse a lot of that on the basis that i don't think viktor is really himself anymore because of the hexcore -- very flat emotionally, etc. and i assume we'll see them butt heads again later in the season. but still, the hextech weapons, the nonconsensual hexcoring, etc, would've expected something a little more explosive lol

plus, then we shift from that scene to the Furby Comedy Hour and jayce and heimerdinger having like a nonreaction to each other despite how acrimoniously they parted or how emotionally charged jayce must be sleeping next to viktor's empty cocoon etc... felt whiplash-y to me. but i hate heimerdinger and ekko teaming up to begin with lmao (and ofc ekko directs his frustrations with piltover to jayce, and not the 300 year president furby he has no beef with for some reason)

this extends to vi's decision to pick up the badge, etc. stuff just happens really quick and the fact that the passage of time in the show isn't very clear doesn't really help. i can understand why riot didn't want to spend two decades making five seasons of this show, but 2 seasons will probably feel too short imo.

[mxcottonsocks]

That scene with the Lammles from Our Mutual Friend reminds me of a tumblr classic...

🎩 (◡‿◡) 🎩 (ʘ‿ʘ) "what you done to me" (ʘ‿ʘ)ノ🎩 "hold my hat"

🎩＼(｡-_-｡) “Kick his ass, baby.  I got yo hat.”

[evansbby]

my opinion on the Blake lively situation

[florbelles]

𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐈𝐑 ❧ [eight/∞]

+ shadowheart

[carcarrot]

its important to go see a low stakes concert sometimes

[coolauntlilith]

ATFC s1e8 Jerry has me fucking sick to my stomach about Simon's, "Wha- No, no! Why would I??"

I kinda am wondering if his lack of reaching Chaos Betty is maybe bc she now doesn't want him to reach her. If she's still kinda Betty, anyway.

Edit: I just finished my second rewatch and I do wonder where Golbetty is portalling him. 👀

[acourtofquestions]

TOWER OF DAWN SPOILER ALERT

OH MY WORD

ITS LYSANDRAS FATHER isn’t it

Update:

OH MY WORD IT IS

Updated Update: OH MY WORD I HAD IT WRONG HES HER… UNCLE??

But still…

Wait… Does that mean her father’s alive??

I can’t keep track of the updates but I’m pretty sure Nesryn just put the pieces together and almost said it

Mostly just my mind is blown twice in less than 2 chapters… I have no coherency… just… wow

[izzyspussy]

why are they laughing at him as he gets straight up killed??? he doesn't deserve this! he's a sweet kid at heart! he literally just needs one (1) real friend!!

[oculusxcaro]

Should anybody ever show interest in Khare, it is VERY unlikely she will recipriocate their feelings. Her reluctance to accept a relationship isn't out of dislike or disinterest for them; she may actually find that special somebody charming, that maybe in another life she might have said yes but as it currently stands, she finds her condition too morbid, too shameful and disgusting to ever willingly reveal the truth to a potential interest.