#each punches landing to the tune of the beat.

[waldenstationed]

the hundred really did miss the opportunity to have a ridiculous ill fitting song to layover an action packed scene of fighting. like just picture helo is fist fighting an earthborn that is chipped to the tune of "side to side" by ariana because it's being played from jasper's ipod that he found.

[delicatebarness]

So I was thinking earlier for the Avengers Bunch

What if…while on a mission and in the middle of the fight reader is listening to music and just starts humming which leads to singing quietly till other young avenger hears and joins and another one and so on

the young avengers just start singing cause someone is anxious or just because they’re bored and when they run into the enemy they are like what is happening

And the song would be “We Didn’t Start The Fire” Fallout boy rendition or you can chose

The Avengers Bunch | Who's Robert Downey Jr Anyway?! #004

Summary: ^^ Requested.

Warning: Violence. Mentions of real-life events from 1989 - 2023 that could be triggering.

Word Count: 567

Series Masterlist | Tips

Tags: @somnorvos |

On the outskirts of an abandoned nuclear power plant, bursts of energy and lights flashing illuminated the night sky. The recruits were in the thick of their mission, each one of them locked in their conflict. Amidst the chaos, you crouched behind a pile of rubble, trying to catch your breath and reload your guns. After a moment, you remembered you packed your AirPods…

“Why do you need them?” you remember Bucky asking you from your doorway.

Slipping them into your ears, you pressed shuffle on your playlist, and the familiar strains of “We Didn’t Start The Fire” by Fall Out Boy filled your senses. As you re-entered the battle, you found yourself humming along to the beat.

Softly, the hums turned into singing, barely audible over the fights. “Captain Planet, Arab Spring, LA riots, Rodney King…”

Nearby, Kate crouched with her bow at the ready, glancing over at you. “Are you singing?” 

You gave her a sheepish grin, still humming. “It’s to help me focus.”

Nodding, Kate smiled at you before she took a deep breath and joined on the next line. “Deepfakes, earthquakes, Iceland volcano…”

Spider-Man swung in from above you, delivering a kick to a robotic enemy. He landed next to you, eyebrows raised beneath his mask. “Cool! Karaoke time!” Without hesitation, he joined in, surprisingly in tune. “Oklahoma City bomb…” 

Suddenly, an amplified voice added a deep resonance as a shadow loomed over you. “I am Groot, I am Groot, I am Groot, I am Groot…” Groot has caught on to what was happening. 

Soon enough, the four of you were all belting out the song, your voices melding together in a harmonious chorus. Your enemies, a group of heavily armed mercenaries even paused in their attacks. Staring in confusion at you all. 

“What the hell?” one of them muttered, lowering their weapon slightly. 

Even the most seasoned in their ranks, looked bewildered. “What is happening?” he growled, becoming distracted for a moment. 

You and your friends never missed a beat. You used the mercenaries’ confusion to your advantage. “Cambridge Analytica!” you sang together, your voices rang out across the battlefield. 

As the last of the mercenaries were knocked out, you regrouped, still singing the lines of the song.

Kate paused and looked confused when you all sang, “Robert Downey Jr, Iron Man.” Picking up her arrows she asked, “Wait, who’s Robert Downey Jr anyway?” 

“No idea,” Peter shrugged, sending one more punch toward a waking mercenary. “Must be some old actor.” 

Groot nodded, “I am Groot.” 

You laughed, shaking your head. “Tony will know.” 

~

Once your enemies were tied up and the area was secure, you made your way back to the Quin Jet. As you and the rest of your team boarded, still humming together, you found the ‘older’ Avengers sitting inside, their heads in their hands.

Bucky looked up first, his face a mix of annoyance and amusement. “Do you realize we have comms? We heard… everything.” 

Steve sighed, rubbing his temples. “Every. Single. Note.”

With a raised eyebrow, Natasha made her way over to you. “Not the most conventional tactic, but it worked.” 

You blushed slightly. “Sorry, we just got carried away.” Sharing a look with your friends, you all tried to stifle your laughter. Leaning back in your seat, you began to hum softly again as the Quin Jet lifted off.

“For the love of Odin, shut up!”

[olsenmyolsen]

ok hear me out there is a severe lack of CarolKate fics, maybe Carol trying to prepare/teach Kate how to be a leader of the young avengers but they just end up incessantly teasing each other verbally until Carol gets fed up and puts a very bratty Kate in her place and shows her who’s boss

“oh yeah? make me” and “prove it” and “i bet *you* cant even do that” vibes

Thank you for reaching out! <3. I enjoyed writing this dynamic a lot! Also all of my requests so far have been smut... don't know what that says about you all or me.

Prove It (18+)

master list . maroon master list . dark master list

MCU AU (Kate Bishop X Carol Danvers)

Summary: Carol is training Kate to lead the Young Avengers, but the 23-year-old can't keep her mouth shut.

Word Count: 2K

Content: Sex, Fingering, Petnames Kink, Praise, Oral, Feelings, Pinning, etc

Carol watched as Kate rose up from the black mats in the training room yet again.

Kate was in dire need of some training, specifically hand-to-hand combat if she was going to be one of the leaders of the Young Avengers or whatever the hell Kamala was putting together.

Kamala Khan had talked to Carol about her own band of heroes for the last couple of months, but honestly, Carol put on a smile and tuned the hero from Jersey out most of the time.

"Okay, you got me that time, but that's because I was going easy," Carol smirked at Kate's words. "Oh really? What about the other twenty-nine times?" Kate put on a confident smile. "You wish it was twenty-nine times."

"No, it has been twenty-nine times. I've been keeping count." Kate's face fell. "Oh." Carol put her hands up ready to go again. "Really?" Kate asked, making Carol smile. "Yes. Now, come on, hit me."

"Oh, usually that comes after dinner. And with consent." Carol rolled her eyes as Kate laughed and put her hands up before her, pacing around Carol. The two of them had been going at it for at least an hour and a half, but Kate and her mouth had yet to stop.

Clint told Carol all about how great the archer was. But he warned her that she never stops talking. Like ever.

Carol was beginning to miss Goose and their quiet purrs.

Kate moved closer to Carol but made the mistake of moving her eyes to the point where she would strike—making it easy for Carol to lift her leg and collide with Kate's stomach. The younger woman stumbling back. "Jeez, I thought Clint said you took Karate or something?"

"He talked about me?" Kate ignored the rest of Carol's words. Carol sighed. "Yes, one of the world's greatest archers, but you still can't land a punch without someone hitting you first."

"Okay, ouch." Kate put her hands over her heart and faked being stabbed. Carol stopped moving and waited for Kate and her theatrics to be done.

It took another thirty seconds.

"Okay, kid, let's see if you can't resist telegraphing your moves." Kate made a face at the K word. "Ew, don't call me that." Carol and Kate began to circle one another. Carol looked slightly confused. "What kid? Doesn't Clint call you that?"

Kate lightly shrugged. "Yeah, but he's like a father figure, plus it sounds wrong coming from someone's mouth that isn't as old as him." Carol shook her head and laughed. "You know I'm technically over sixty."

Kate couldn't stop the words flying out of her mouth.

"Not with a body like that."

Carol stopped moving. Kate stopped moving. "Oh god. She's going to kill me." The Bishop girl whispered under her breath.

After a beat of silence, a glowing smirk grew on Carol's face. She had a new angle. "I see," Carol said, dragging her feet along the mat, slowly moving again. Kate stumbled before she also started moving. Afraid of what Carol would say and do.

"You're attracted to me."

Kate's mouth dropped. "No- I mean, yes, you're attractive, but no, I'm not- to you."

A blind man would be attracted to Carol Danvers.

Carol squinted. "You sure about that, honey?" Kate's eyes went wide as she gulped. Carol was having fun now. "Go back to calling me kid," Kate demanded, but Carol laughed. "Why are you afraid I'm bringing up some mommy issues?"

Kate exhaled. She needed to try and get the upper hand again. "And what if you are?" She replied. Carol shrugged after a second. "Then quit being a brat about it."

Kate's body grew warmer.

She licked her lips and opened her mouth. A little squeak came out before her words. "Well, maybe I just need to be put in my place." Carol raised an eyebrow and bit her bottom lip. "You got that right, sweetie." Kate's brain almost died, but luckily for her, she had the threat of Carol charging at her to worry about.

So she put her one leg back and planted her foot before lifting her other one to hit Carol, but the blonde was fast. She grabbed onto Kate's leg and dragged it down as she slid underneath Kate and her blue eyes.

Kate's face and then body hit the mat. Yes, in that order.

"Oh, Mommy's sorry," Carol said in a fake voice with a pout. Tingles surround Kate but she turned over onto her back and meet Carol's eyes. "You can't do that!"

"Do what?" Carol tilted her head with a smile. Kate huffed. She didn't know what she was yelling about. Either Carol grabbing her and pulling her to the floor or the nicknames.

"Like I said, Momm-" "Stop that!" Kate yelled from the floor. Carol took steps towards Kate until her body was over the younger woman's. Carol crouched over Kate. "Oh, you want me to stop?" Carol's voice switched from her fake, almost pornographic tone to her real one. "Let me guess, it's turning you on?"

A little frustrated, Kate lifted up and pushed Carol, making the blonde quickly shoot up and use her powers to catch herself from falling.

"Oh, okay." Carol took the hit and news well. Kate was red in the cheeks because of embarrassment, fear, and because Carol was right. The blonde crossed her arms over her white tank top. "You want me to stop treating you like the brat you are?"

Kate rose to her feet. Hands in front of her. "I'm twenty-three, not a fucking brat."

"Not with that attitude." Carol barked back. The training slowly works its way to the front of her mind again. On the battlefield, you couldn't waste a second having an attitude like this.

Kate was silent. "Okay. You want me to stop, baby?" Kate nodded. "Yes." Carol nodded and removed her arms from in front of her chest. "Oh yeah? Make me. Take me to the mat."

Kate let out a quiet sigh. Her body and mind were fighting for control, but she raised her hands and knew she needed to beat Carol.

"Atta girl." Carol winked in a sultry voice that made Kate clench her jaw and move towards Carol with a greater quickness than Carol had seen all day. Except Kate was still Kate and stumbled as she took a comprehensive step to the right, forcing her to launch forward into Carol.

But Carol was observing and moved her body to take the impact softer. Catching Kate.

Who then stepped on Carol's foot.

So technically, Kate did take Carol to the mat.

Kate landed on top of Carol as Carol wrapped her arms around the younger woman. The impact made a grunt slip from Carol's lips to Kate's ears. Quickly, Kate lifted her upper half off of Carol, and Carol's hands fell from Kate's back to her hips.

They stayed there as Kate looked over Carol's face. "Well, technically, you did what I asked," Carol smirked. "Y-yeah, I did." Kate stumbled as she felt Carol's rough hands squeeze her hips. "The problem is... I don't think this little slip-up means you're ready to lead a team."

Kate refrained from rolling her eyes—something Carol noticed.

"Oh yeah?" Kate whispered as she spread her legs wider on either side of Carol's. Carol nodded. "Yeah. Your attitude is still there, too." Kate moved her hands to Carol's and pulled them away from her body. She placed them onto the mat as her hands slid to Carol's wrist. Her body hanging over the blonde's. "I think you like it."

"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you."

Kate couldn't win. "A leader takes control, Kate." Carol gently said into the space between the two. Carol was giving Kate an opportunity. Kate slowly leaned forward until her lips hung inches away from Carol's. She looked through her eyes to see Carol's blue ones telling her she wanted it.

Kate wrapped her hand around Carol's wrist and placed her lips onto Carol's. The older woman became intoxicated from one taste of Kate Bishop. Her soft pink tasted like lavender against Carol's.

The blonde could smell the body lotion Kate used in the morning. Kate could smell and taste the chapstick Carol loved.

As the two were becoming lost in one another, Kate began to grind her hips into Carol's—the friction causing a much-needed release of pleasure as Kate moaned into Carol's mouth.

Carol nodded and moaned as Kate's lips moved to her neck. Quickly, Carol lifted her arms up and wrapped them around her. Touching and feeling her skin.

Carol's hands burned with desire against Kate.

"Oh fuck, baby!" Carol moaned when Kate began sucking on Carol's chest.

Carol moved her hands down to Kate's sides again. She squeezed and slipped her hands underneath the seam of Kate's shorts. Kate moaned as Carol lifted her head to kiss Kate's chest. At the same time, Carol's left hand moved through Kate's untrimmed hairs. "You feel so good!" Carol groaned as Kate nodded with squeaks. "Oh fuck, Carol!" Kate cried out as Carol's middle finger ran over the wet spot Kate had.

Carol lifted her body with her powers and took Kate into her arm as she placed Kate gently onto her back. Her lips still attacking the you get woman's chest. Her middle finger was still pressing against Kate's covered wet pussy. "Oh, Mom-"

Kate stopped herself, but Carol heard it. She pulled her hand out of Kate's shorts and brought it to Kate's mouth. "Open." Kate hesitated. "I'm giving you orders, Kate." Carol reaffirmed with a commanding voice. "That's it. Be good for Mommy." Carol watched as Kate's mouth dropped, and slowly, Carol's finger disappeared as Kate's mouth wrapped around it.

"Keep sucking. Do you taste yourself?" Kate nodded with a muffled moan.

Carol was making her feel a way no one else had.

Carol, with a smirk, pulled down the sides of Kate's shorts as Kate helped kick them off.

"You're doing so well, aren't you, baby? Being good for your Captain! Your leader!" Carol husked as she spread apart Kate's legs. Her lips dragging up the other woman's soft thighs. "Oh, Kate." Carol leaned down and kissed the wet spot of Kate's black cotton underwear. With Kate's hand around Carol's wrist, she kept sucking and licking Carol's fingers until Carol pulled them out. Drool coating the younger woman's chest as Carol brought those same fingers to Kate's clothed pussy.

"You're so pretty," Carol said before pulling the black panties to the side. "Fuck Carol, you're so hot!" Kate whined. Carol loved hearing Kate come unglued.

"Oh, just touch me. Please!" Kate cried out. Her fingers ran through the blonde's short hair until she reached the back of Carol's head and pushed it closer to her wet clit. Carol gave in with a smile. "There you go, Kate. Command me!"

Carol was still making this a teaching lesson, and it drove Kate crazy.

"Just shut up!" Kate responded, turned into a loud moan as Carol's tongue hit the bottom of her spread pussy and worked its way to the top of Kate's clit. Flicking the hood before she slipped her middle finger up and worked it in a circular motion.

Even through the workout leading to this moment, Carol couldn't get enough of Kate.

And Kate was in pure ecstasy as Carol ate her out and finger fucked her better than she had ever had at college.

"Oh fuck! Oh, Carol! I'm about to cum!" Kate lifted her head from the black mat and arched her back. "That's not my name, sweetheart!" Carol replied as she spit on her hand and slipped it through Kate's wet pussy lips before returning to her clit.

And Kate knew what Carol wanted to be called, but it was too late as her legs began to shake and she started cumming.

Carol kissed up Kate's body as she came down from her high. Carol knew she would be too exhausted to do anything to her, but she was okay with it.

"I have to say..." Kate started as her breathing slowed. "That might've been the best training I've ever done." Carol laughed as her body hung above Kate's. "Is that right?" Carol asked.

Kate nodded. "Although I'm not sure if anything will stick."

"Oh?" Carol raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. I mean, if I want to be a leader, I have to learn from the best."

Carol went to open her mouth. Kate interrupted her thought. "From the best who's still around." Carol closed her mouth and smiled. "I'll make something out of you yet, Bishop," Carol whispered before she leaned down and softly kissed Kate. "You still need to prove it to me."

"Oh, I will." Kate kissed her again. "I will."

dividers by @/benkeibear

[hotcheetohatredwastaken]

Linked Universe AU: Lethal Company (1/18)

What if the boys from Linked Universe were put into space and forced to work under Evil Capitalism (AKA for The Company)?

Tw: none for this chapter, but gore and main character death later in the series.

He jolted upright, banged his head on the metal shelf stationed low above him like the lid to a coffin, and collapsed back onto his bed with a yelp. Groaning, he clasped both hands over the bruise blooming on his forehead and squeezed his eyelids shut against the oppressive light piercing into his brain. Somewhere, metal squealed, and low conversation thrummed.

What’s going—? He tried to search his brain for context about where he was, what was going on, but was met with nothing but an emptiness where memory should have been. He—there was no name that existed in that frightening blank, just he—knew what it should have felt like to draw upon some sort of knowledge, information, something, but there was a jarring mental block, like an unexpected run into a wall where a door should have been. If he knew what it felt like to remember, did that mean he remembered a before? He beat against the blockade for a few moments, turned, and prodded elsewhere in the empty mental landscape he’d been thrust into. But there were no cracks or breaks in the walls, and the entirely of the space between was just empty, empty, empty. Then—

The creaking of metal haunted his mind. Each sound warped and phased until they were unrecognizable, morphing into the desperate screams of the dying. A rhythmic beat like horse hooves became a steady war drum to backdrop the sounds of a crash, an explosion. A woman’s voice permeated the din, soothing and sad all at once. It too, rose into a despairing shriek, and—

The echoes of strained metal continued in the land of the waking, quieter and less warped now. He shuddered and he peeked open an eye to find the source.

“New replacements here,” someone shouted amidst the noise, and he was suddenly struck with the fact that he’s not alone. The conversation floating around the air raised the hair on his arms. Head still spinning, he carefully propped himself onto one elbow, turning towards the still too-painful light. His empty stomach clenched with the movement, and he pinched his eyes shut once more, pressing his lips together and taking in a few small, tight breaths in an attempt to calm his nausea. “Oh, he looks like a real newbie. Someone tell him to quit thinking so hard before he makes his head explode.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll deal with the new meat. You just like to scare them anyways,” a gentle voice at his side said. “Go help Time with the monitor, he’s bound to break it without intervention. Hey. Hey, kid! Can you hear me?”

He, squinting, was met with a kind, round face with soft blue eyes that peered into his bunk with intense curiosity and something that looked like heavy resignation. “Where—?” he tried to ask, only to cough over a dryness in his throat. His next attempt barely came out a whisper. “Wh—?”

“It’s alright, it’s alright, you don’t try to talk just yet,” the owner of that kind face said, rushing to hold his hand in his own. It made him feel safer, grounded, somehow. “I’ll explain everything I can in a second, you just hang tight and I’ll get you some—”

Suddenly, a blaring, triumphant tune raised itself. It seemed to swirl around his head, reverberating in his ears and raising his shoulders. “Welcome,” a robotic voice droned over the music after a slight delay, “to your first—”

“Somebody shut that thing up!” a deep masculine voice roared across the cabin.

“—on the jo—”

“I’m sorry.” The kind-faced one spoke over the din. “I’ll get you some water, and then we’ll talk.”

He tracked the kind-faced one with his eyes as he stood and crossed the narrow room, which seemed to be made out of smooth metal and wiring. Another man in an orange jumpsuit punched at something embedded in the opposite wall, and the song, looping around the words Great–great asset to the company fizzled out with a pop. The man returned to the computer screen at the front of the room, leaning over the shoulder of a child in that same orange jumpsuit. The kind-faced one was wearing one, too. And so was he, he realized, with a look down at himself. An orange jumpsuit made of thick, sturdy material, dull buttons, and a number of loops and pockets. Was—was this prison? Wait, what’s a prison, and why is it orange? Where—?

“Hey! Here.” The kind-faced one was back, trying to hand a metal canteen to him. “Drink.”

“Why—?” He couldn’t get another word out. The kind-faced one seemed to follow his gaze well enough to understand the question he wanted to ask.

“The orange? Yeah, Time wouldn’t let us buy the yellow that went on sale last cycle. Said it was a waste of money. But I think a little less Company orange would be good for the soul. Now drink.”

Company? The canteen was successfully forced into his hand. With nothing else to do, he drank. The water soothed his irritated throat enough that he could speak. “Who… who are you people?” he said at last. His own voice sounded unfamiliar to him, high and thready and weak. “Where—where am I? What’s going on?”

The kind-faced one gave a small, sad smile. “Not a lot of answers I can give you to those questions, but I can try. We’re all your crewmates assigned to work together on this ship for the duration of our contract. My name’s Sky. That’s Four… and that’s Time…”

“Heyo!” one crewmate—not a child, he could see now, but a short adult with blond hair chopped off at chin level—chirped. The taller continued tapping away at his keyboard with a dismissive grunt.

“...and you’re… uh…” Sky squinted down at his chest.

“Twilight, it says up here!” the short one finished for him.

“Yes, your name tag says that Twilight’s your name. Nice to meet you, Twilight.”

He—Twilight now—took the offered hand on instinct. “And we’re… where?” he asked vaguely, hopelessly confused. Despite the nearly empty space in his head, available to be filled with all sorts of knowledge, trying to cram that little bit in was like trying to grasp water in his hands. “What… what was your name again?”

“Sky.” The smile only turned sadder. “And we’re in space, technically, now. I mean, Time thinks otherwise, but don’t listen to that old coot.” The glare the taller man, Time, sent at the back of Sky’s head was deadly, but he didn’t seem to notice. Twilight noticed, then, the name tag on Sky’s chest, which read Sky – Employee. A glance at his own chest revealed the label Twilight – Intern. “Anyways, don’t push yourself on the names and all that—a lot of stuff won’t stick this first day, while you’re still getting over the memory wipe. We’ll be landing soon. Our job is to go inside, collect some scrap, and bring it back to the shuttle with everyone safe. Got it?”

Twilight nodded, his mind still swirling with questions. “Scrap? Why? Do we have to?”

“Doesn’t matter why. And yes, we do.” The taller man—Twilight had already forgotten his name—walked over to the bunk, leaning over Twilight with his thumbs tucked into the belt loops of his orange uniform. The placard on his chest read Time – Boss, and its chipped appearance almost distracted Twilight from his milky-white, clearly blind right eye. Almost. A jolt and a shiver ran through him, and he sat up straighter in his bunk. “That accent and those tattoos of yours suggest you’re from some subsistence farming planet,” said Time, looking him up and down critically. “You look strong—do you know how to swing a shovel?”

That question was just as foreign as everything else in this place. “Um… what?” murmured Twilight, touching his own face absentmindedly.

Just then, the room shuddered and rocked with a metallic squeal, eerily similar to that feminine scream of his dreams. Twilight braced against the bunks, barely keeping himself from spilling into the floor. The rest of the crew swayed with it and stayed on their feet without trouble.

“We’re here!” the shorter crewmate announced. He wore an orange jumpsuit, almost the same color as a prison jacket —no wait, he’d already thought this before, it wasn’t prison, but what was prison, why did he keep thinking— “Door’s open in two minutes.”

“What was that?” Twilight whispered wide-eyed, still clinging to his bunk in case it happened again. “What is this place?”

“Don’t worry about it right now. Just try to survive today.” Time looked down at him, unimpressed, and crossed his arms. “Here’s your helmet.” He reached out of sight and tossed the thing—black, round, with glass eyes and lengths of connected tubing—into Twilight’s lap. “Atmosphere’s technically breathable on this planet, but I wouldn’t suggest it if you value your lungs. Sky’ll help you with your oxygen tank. Welcome to your first day on the job.”

The man strode away. Sky took his place, fussing about with a pair of heavy yellow tanks that needed to be fastened to Twilight’s back, gloves that fit way too loosely over his fingers, and finally, his helmet. Twilight stared down at it. His own unfamiliar face—tattooed with broad, black strokes that hung over icy blue eyes—stared back at him from the fogged glass of the face shield. He didn’t want to put it on, didn’t want to consent to whatever he was tasked to do here without the slightest clue of what was going on. But to get answers, he’d have to. So he pulled his helmet on, allowed Sky to connect the tubing, and, peering through the frosted, spiderwebbed glass, stood and followed Time to the opening door at the other end of the cabin.

All credit for this goes to @across-violet-skies , who initially had the idea for this AU while we were playing Lethal Company together about a month ago. We were getting an average of 50 hrs of this game a week rather than studying for exams, and anyways, the two brain rots connected. Yay. Hope you enjoy! This series looks like it will be about 36,000 words, but it will not interfere in any way with BDOR. No regular update schedule. Beta read by the lovely @needfantasticstories.

[rooviebae]

Hello! This is my first time ordering so sorry if I misspelled anything :*3

Can we do all of the uppermoons x siren reader who loves to sing, not just to lead humans over to eat them but she just genuinely likes to sing. Can we get there reactions and if they like her? :3

. ݁₊ BUNNY HUT DELIVERY . ݁₊

YOUR ORDER ㅤㅤ

❥︎ the upper moons hearing the voice of a siren + if they like them. ❥︎ 1,088 words ❥︎ no warnings !

ㅤㅤ

KOKUSHIBO ㅤㅤㅤ

Kokushibo is a very quiet and terrifying demon alone. He's seen many things throughout his years from both humans and demons, but they were all so little to him.

He had more power and respect, and everytime he notices the fearful looks in the eyes of others, he gets reminded of his status compared to them all.

It was just one night that was far different then the rest. He was alone, as always, and his hands tightly gripped his sword. It was covered in fresh blood from the previous house that he emptied. The only thing that he had to do as always was continue his search for the blue spider lily.

But then the next thing he heard was singing. It was a voice he has never heard before, but he immediately became drawn to it, so he had no other choice but to follow wherever this was coming from.

To think that a man of his status would become so curious of a random person singing, but he couldn't stop. And when his six eyes finally land on a figure in the distance over the water, he realized just how perfect the voice matched you.

It was easy for you to spot him and the two of you were fine in each other's presence. Most of the time he never said a word, just stayed there and listened to the song that you continued.

Kokushibo isn't the kind of person who has an interest in anyone, so it might take some time for him to realize that you was beautiful. It would obviously be the voice that made him realized.

ㅤㅤ

DOUMA ㅤㅤㅤ

Douma was an odd demon, anyone could see that, even the people in his own cult, but he still is incredibly respected. He carries on his life with an empty heart, feeling nothing, but still puts on a facade to fool others around him.

He's always in his cult, so if he ever heard such heavenly singing for the first time in his entire life staying there, whoever was singing definitely wasn't there before.

Still though, despite feeling nothing, he grew quite curious to see who the person was that was singing these lovely tunes. So, he left. He left his cult ignoring the other humans there and just left.

He stands in front of a body of water, staring at the siren that still sang. Your voice was captivating, he couldn't help but wave at you as though he was a child waving at a friend.

I wouldn't say that Douma would feel any romantic feelings for that siren, but he would genuinely enjoy your company. If he ever did feel any kind of feelings, he would definitely be confused, and probably immediately assume what he might be feeling. He could be right, or he could be wrong. Who knows.

ㅤㅤ

AKAZA ㅤㅤㅤ

Akaza, a well trained martial artist, would obviously training as he does so most of the time anyways. He feels as though he has to in order for him to grow stronger and rise up in ranks so that he can finally beat Kokushibo for the upper moon one spot.

However, when the sound of a woman's stunning voice reaches his ear, he stops mid punch. He was so focused on training that he wasn't entirely focusing on his surroundings. He was letting his anger out at the thought that even after all this training, he was still at the upper three spot.

But when he heard your voice, his anger was gone. He would have left to find out who was singing sooner, but he was just standing there with his fist out, staring ahead of him with a blank expression until he finally relaxes his body to search around him.

Of course you weren't there, so he changes his plans and decides to delay his training for another time. He has all the time in the world, so he knows he'll come back to it.

When he finally arrived where the singing was coming from, his eyes last upon a female out in the water who looked content with herself. You looked as though you were enjoying yourself as you sing, and he probably would too if he had a voice like that.

He normally doesn't talk to humans, especially women. It's not that he hates talking with them, he's just used to talking with men cause men are the only ones that he fights, both humans and demons. Just for humans though, he doesn't even eat the females, so of course he's had more human males talk to him, pleading for their lives.

He ended up training in your presence. He wouldn't fight you, he would just train like he normally would. The only difference was that you were now there.

Having any romantic feelings for a woman didn't sit right with him for some odd reason. It was like he was doing something absolutely horrible, but he never figured out why. He came up with a theory that it might have something to do with his human life, but who knows.

ㅤㅤ

HANTENGU ㅤㅤㅤ

Hantengu would pretty much get scared over anything sudden, whether it was something big like a fight all the way to something smaller, like a random person yelling in the distance.

That said, he would jump when he randomly hears singing, but he actually loved it. A part of him wanted to leave, but another part of him wanted to venture towards the singing woman in the distance.

He decided to slowly make his way to the singing, and despite the discomfort he was feeling for acting out in a way he never does, he ended up slightly increasing his pace.

He would only go out of his way to others when he took the lives of humans, but he knew that whoever this person was wasn't a human.

He finally lays his eyes upon you from a distance, and he could only stand against a tree as he heard you sing. He was debating if he should go closer or stay where he is. He decided to stay, not wanting to do anything he might regret.

When you finally notice him, you didn't mind him at all, which was quite unusual for someone like Hantengu. In fact, you enjoyed talking with him.

When it comes to romantic feelings, he would catch them quickly, but he doesn't know what to do with them. He would never say anything to you, but he still stayed in your presence.

ㅤㅤ

GYOKKO ㅤㅤㅤ

Gyokko is a very cruel demon who greatly enjoys taking the lives of the innocent and using their remains as what he calls art. He holds no mercy to humans and even to other demons who fight for a rank.

When he heard your singing, he found your voice to hold such elegance and beauty, perfect for his art.

He immediately went straight to you only to find that you weren't even a human. He wanted to feel upset that he couldn't add you to his collection, but he couldn't. He's never heard a voice like that before.

If you two became friends, it would be because that you were similar to him in some way, but if you aren't, then there's not going to be a friendship.

As for romantic feelings, he might have at least some, especially when he heard your voice, but he's more focused on his art that he doesn't care for romance.

ㅤㅤ

DAKI + GYUTARO ㅤㅤㅤ

Daki would be the one to hear your voice, not Gyutaro, since he's not exactly out and around most of the time. She's a busy woman, but she does have her time to herself, and hearing that heavenly voice was during one of those times. She just had to see who this person was.

She finally sees you, and you were just as beautiful as your voice. She was almost jealous.

Daki wanted to know so much about you, asking question after question. She ended up enjoying your company, so it should be no surprise that she would want to introduce her brother to you.

Once Gyutaro heard your voice, he was in awe. He never cared for anyone but Daki, but he found you to be alluring. He enjoyed your company more then he would have thought, and he grew to like you as a person, even if you weren't really a human.

He probably would find interest in you, especially if you don't find him to be ugly. He'd definitely want to hear your voice every night once the sun finally sets.

If Daki was the one that gained interest in you, not only would it because of your voice, but because of your beauty as well. In her eyes, two beautiful women would make a beautiful couple.

[tommys-little-writing-corner]

Fickle Fate ║ Chapter I: Second Chance

》 They say fate is a fickle mistress, playing cruel tricks with the help of Lady Fortune and Destiny. However, they also said she throws problems on purpose before achieving something great. What could come out of a fire god visiting your uncle with Naruto cosplayers? And what's with the yakuza man? 》 Chapter I: Second Chance 》 General Notes: Gender Neutral!Reader, Teen!Reader, No Romance, Platonic Friendship, Slight Canon Divergence, First Person Writing, Found Family, Canon Violence 》 Chapter Notes: Initially I wrote this with an OC of mine I had, but then it just sorta spiraled into this! Hopefully, everyone can enjoy this as much as I did 》 Trigger Warnings: Brief Mention of Child Abuse, Abusive Parent Mentioned 》 Word Count: 1.2k Words

The crowds surrounding me and my opponent, Liam, were loud.

They egged us on, cheering us on as the fight continued. Neither one was letting up or giving in, swinging punch after punch. Kick after kick. Liam swung with a right kick, but I ducked down, going in to sweep him off his feet, he jumped up in time, but it left him open...

Open for the ultimate combo from my character.

I dared not to take my eyes away from the projection of our battle on Street Fighter 6. We were both in sync with our respective characters-- Luke and Juri -- who responded to the actions that were being inputted in the controllers we held in our sweaty hands. They are a part of us, representing our soul, and our desire to represent our fighting spirits. The desire to fight, our spirit of competitiveness, could never fade.

The world seemed to slow down as if to take a deep breath, going quiet as Luke's fists connected with Juri's body. Color splashed across the screen as each fist, each hit, landed successfully before everything went back to normal.

"AND THE WINNER IS DAMMECAGE!"

I let out a breath I wasn't aware of holding back, wiping the sweat off my brow as I looked at Liam and smiled. He looked defeated before shaking his head, putting the controller down before offering his hand to shake mine.

"I lost to you again," Liam spoke my name before I shook his hand back.

"Hey, there's always next season." I chuckled, pulling him into a one-armed hug before pulling away. The tournament host and his friend walked on over, talking loudly on the mic, praising my skills in the game. But yet, despite this moment of joy... I couldn't really find myself to be happy in this moment.

Just because I won the game didn't mean I won at life-- my life as (Y/N) Carlton was shit. 17 years old and have been living with my uncle, Jonathan Carlton, for the past two years. My home wasn't safe with an absent mom and an abusive dad. His father, my grandfather, wasn't a good dad either, so I guess it just sort of ran in the family. He didn't seem to care if anything happened to me, but once my uncle saw what was going on, he didn't seem to hesitate to help the family out. Uncle Johnny, along with his wife, took me in as my legal guardian, and since then I've just been living life in sunny Malibu, California.

"I'll see you around, Liam! Catch ya later!"

I waved goodbye to my friend, pocketing the trophy in my backpack before running out of the arcade. Once I got out the doors, I grabbed my skateboard and took off to ride the streets in style, headphones on to listen to tunes to celebrate my victory. My head bobbed to the beat, lightly tapping my foot as I swerved past people, swinging around a pole to go right before I continued on heading home. Today felt like it was a good day so far, and surely nothing could go wrong, right?

Well, 30 minutes of skating home proved otherwise...

I wasn't standing anywhere near the driveway before I heard arguing through my headphones. I pulled them off, raising a brow in curiosity before frowning. It made me grimace at what could be going on in there... and neither did I enjoy the sound of arguments. The sounds brought me back to my old home and I did not want to think about that.

"-ou alright?"

I felt a hand on my shoulder and jumped, almost slipping off my skateboard before steadying myself to see who it was. An Asian man with short, dark hair in an off-grey and red suit and... is that a sword on him? Does he have tattoos on his hands? Why does he have tattoos? Is he a member of the Yakuza or something? Or are they just nice tattoos?

"Um, uh, yeah, I'm good..." I nodded, hopping off my skateboard before picking it up. "I just don't do arguments, I don't know what they could be arguing about." I walked on the pathway to the large mansion with the businessman walking a few steps behind me. Curiosity itched me and I couldn't help but ask, "You here to see my uncle?"

"Um... yes, yes I am." He answered, almost sounding hesitant for a second. Was he scared or something?

"I get it, my uncle can be--"

I heard the door slam open before it slammed close, Aunt Cris looked furious with her bag and keys in hand before getting into her car and driving off, leaving me in awkward silence with a stranger. The air felt awkward before I cleared my throat, looking at the man before I continued speaking, "My uncle is an interesting person, as you may know. A little... egotistical, but he means well, honestly. I didn't get your name," I offered my hand to him and he looked, questioning his decision, before shaking it.

"Takahashi Kenshi."

"Oh, Takahashi? That's Japanese if I remember correctly... You do stuntwork in movies?"

"I do." Kenshi seemed to answer rather quickly, standing by the door before I opened it and let him in. At the time, I didn't think much about it, closing the door quietly as I could.

"Living room's down that hall, that's where my uncle will be. I'm just... uh, gonna go eat in the kitchen." I gave an awkward smile before I let out a sigh, shoulders dropping as I put my skateboard down to the side before making my way to the kitchen, dropping my bag to the floor before raiding the fridge to reheat day-old pizza and open a can of my favorite drink. It took a while for the pizza to reheat, allowing me time to scroll on my phone on social media.

You know what's really weird? Finding thirst edits of your own uncle... kinda gross. I mean, I can admire their editing skills. But if I had to hear "International Love" one more time, I was going to lose it. The microwave then beeped loudly, snapping me out of further doomscrolling to allow me to eat the pizza while it was still hot on the plate.

"God, I love whoever invented pizza," I muttered to myself, not hearing the brief sound of something crashing when I took a sip of my drink. I figured it was either whatever went down with my uncle it was another one of his "bright ideas" or sudden acting improvision. I didn't think too much of it before hearing the doorbell ring, but that wasn't for me to deal with. I just wanted to relax a little, enjoy intimacy in the form of a good slice of pizza, and read fanfiction. Who doesn't read those? Kinda a guilty pleasure of mine, really. Especially a good rivals to lovers--

CRASH!

A loud crash scared me, making me jump and setting my heart at a fast pace. I put the can down, hand shaking a little as I took deep breaths, calming myself down.

"I'm no longer there... I'm no longer there... I'm no longer home... This is my home now..." I repeated to myself quietly before shuffling to check out the scene. My heart was still racing as I peeked around the corner. While I intially looked fearful about the situation morphed into confusion at what I saw before me, and I had only one thing to say.

"What in the actual fuck..."

TO BE KONTINUED...

[defire]

Dance of Death Chapter 20:

Solutions to Slavery

Content: Child abuse, beating, humiliation, hurt/comfort, marks of torture, institutionalized slavery

Kit tensed as his father speared a clump of fried potatoes rather savagely. He had been thinking so hard he'd tuned out the conversation between his father and Caboodle, which normally was pretty tame.

He swallowed as he realized what Caboodle was saying.

"All I'm asking is when we're going to get to go back to meeting with the Souls–I mean, our friends." His little brother said.

The boy's hands were folded under his chin as he leaned forward in the salmon-pink chair by the window, like he was oblivious to his father's mood.

"No more blazing Souls!" Kit's father said, glaring at him as he ate fried potatoes in the living room. "And no more blazing Nife Raizden. You get that name out of your mouth. Understand me?"

Kit watched him chew, ready to spring to his feet the moment his father did. 

His father wasn't lecturing Kit today--if he was, he would have already blown up. Kit had privately mentioned that if they could make it safe for Nife to come home, everything could go back to normal. Ever since then, Caboodle had been talking to Glen about the Souls and how none of it was Nife's fault.  He was trying to convince their father to support the Souls, as if this, of all times, was a good time to get desperate and beg their dad for help.

Caboodle was looking at his fingernails and rubbing them with his thumb. 

"Do you understand me?" Glen repeated.

Caboodle looked their father in the eye.

"Dad, is there anything I can do to convince you to consider it?"

Their dad jumped to his feet, and so did Kit, immediately. To his surprise, Caboodle did the same thing.

The three of them faced off against each other around the coffee table, both Kit and Caboodle staring down their father, and their father's eyes fixed directly on Kit. Kit's hands were clenched, ready to step in and provoke his dad's attention away from Caboodle the moment he made a move. And his dad knew he would, which was why he wasn't giving Caboodle a second glance.

"He will." Kit said. "Right Caboodle?"

"You don't speak for me, Kit." Caboodle said, not harshly, but firmly.

Kit's eyes flicked between Caboodle's and his dad's, suddenly panicking.

"I won't let him, dad.” Kit said. “We're not doing that stuff anymore. He's just been a little testy since–"

"I can speak for myself!" Caboodle shouted, wheeling on Kit. "I'm not scared of Dad!"

"Well you should be," Glen snarled, moving to step around Kit, who instinctively extended his arm to stop him before he got to Caboodle.

Glen didn't mince words this time, but punched Kit in the stomach. He was very familiar with exactly how much it took to make Kit buckle. 

Kit fell to his knees, gasping out his air in front of Glen's fries on the coffee table. He could hear blows landing on Caboodle's face, and saw his dad dragging Caboodle to the kitchen to drench his head. Caboodle was silently struggling, pointlessly. He was half Dad’s size. Kit choked for breath, clutching his clenched-up gut, unable to get up to his feet as he heard Glen shouting at his little brother in the kitchen.

After a while, Kit heard that horrible sound--Caboodle crying. He'd promised himself he wouldn't have to hear it ever again, yet here it was coming down the entryway, more painful than a hundred punches. This was why Kit was the loud one. This was why Caboodle was supposed to shut up and let Kit take it.

Bent over his gut and feeling sick, Kit forced himself toward the kitchen, hearing his dad already stomping away. Glen pushed past him in the entryway, cursing at Kit.

"Don't you dare!" He shouted unspecifically, then stomped off to his study. He heard him slam and lock the door, as he often did after one of these episodes. Kit suspected he was actually trying to calm himself down before he got even more abusive.

Caboodle was on his knees, water dripping off his chin onto his knees, sobbing. When he looked up and saw Kit, he just cried in his face.

"It's your fault!" He yelled.

Kit stared at his little brother, who had gotten knocked against something and had some blood standing out on a bruised scrape on his glistening wet forehead. Even wet, his hair naturally took an almost fashionable style, and Kit found himself wanting to hug him just for that. That made the blame Caboodle had just thrown at him even more gut-wrenching. The punch he'd just taken didn't help either.

Feeling nauseous, he slid down against the cabinets, crossing his legs on the damp flagstones, and he dropped his face in his hands.

"I'm sorry." He said simply.

"You can't just say that!" Caboodle made a little hiccup as he tried to stop crying. "You can't just accept it when people blame you!"

"But... you said it was my fault." Kit said. "And I know you... you're good at making judgments like that."

"I'm crying!" Caboodle protested. "You can't trust anything I say!"

"...Is that really how it works?" Kit asked.

"Yes, I think so." Caboodle sniffed, wiping water and tears out of his eyes. "Aren't you going to hand me a towel?"

Kit made a little sigh and smiled, reaching up and grabbing a clean towel out of the hanger. He plopped back down with a little groan as he tossed it to his brother, who caught it and started mopping his hair, not looking at Kit.

"Great..." He muttered. "Now you've seen me like this. It's your fault that I'm so weak."

Kit winced, a dreadful feeling closing over his heart. Had he made Caboodle weak by protecting him?

"Stop taking me seriously." Caboodle said unreasonably.

Kit's mind floundered over the contradictions, not sure how much to blame himself, or what for. But his eyes involuntarily focused on the bleeding bruise on Caboodle's forehead, and he didn't say anything for a minute.

"Caboodle, this was... this was a one-time thing, right?" He said after a long pause. "You're not really going to openly challenge him about Nife, right?"

Caboodle sighed.

"I got doused, Kit." He blushed, rubbing at his hair. "And my head hurts. I'm not in a talking mood." 

His eyes teared up again as he said it.

But if Kit didn't talk to him now while the pain was still on his mind, he wouldn't take the threat seriously. Caboodle was always talking about how he wasn't scared of their dad these days, but he'd never stood up to him before like this.

"I'm sorry you got doused." Kit said. "I won't tell anyone, and I'll forget it ever happened. I can barely tell you're even wet. But please... this is the kind of thing I was trying to keep you from."

"I'm not a little kid anymore." Caboodle said. "I don't need your protection." 

His eyes widened as he said it, and he looked up almost pleadingly at Kit, but he swallowed like he was accepting the fear and choosing to be brave. Being brave was foolish, Kit knew from experience. He was foolish all the time.

"Why don't you just do what you're good at?" Kit said.

"Because I don't need your protection!"

"Okay, maybe you don't." Kit said consolingly. "But you've got to have some kind of armor."

"I have my mind." Caboodle said.

Kit was always telling him how smart he was, and apparently it had sunken in.

"I can enchant something to help." Caboodle sniffed, leaning his head back as he got more thoughtful. "Creack says you can enchant your own clairvoyance into something."

"Okay, that sounds right up your alley," Kit sighed with relief. "Let's do that. How can we help her with your enchanting?"

"Life magic." Caboodle said with a little smile, that grew bigger as he spoke. "Maybe there's a way to convince people to back that lawsuit you were talking about."

"Okay," Kit said, not really understanding, but hoping to get Caboodle onto a safer track. "What can I do to help?"

"Let's go talk to Creack." Caboodle said. "Will you come with me?"

Kit nodded. 

"Let's just hope Aunt Wry isn't still angry about Sunday."

After being admitted to the Wry mansion, they went straight to Creack's chambers, and were relieved that their aunt didn't appear on the way.

Kit was soon lost in Caboodle and Creack's technical talk about runes and personal enchantment styles, so he retreated quietly and shut the bedroom door behind him. When he turned toward the hall, he blinked, because he was almost certain that he had seen Nife there right before he'd turned, acting like she just belonged here.

Frowning, he followed a slave down the hall, feeling like he was dreaming. It was that feeling when you realize the dream isn't right, and your subconscious basically assures you that everything is totally normal.

The slave took a turn into a small sitting room that overlooked the courtyard with the fountain in it, and crossed to the window, resting her long hand on the sill.

And then she turned her head and winked at him, and his jaw dropped.

It really was Nife.

"...Nife." He said. "What the blazes is going on?"

He looked at her just to make sure she was all there. She was wearing the Wry slave outfit--the beaded chest piece, the harem-style loose trousers, and even the damn slave cuff. The Wry's slave brand red and scabbee above it. A second glance showed swollen, bruised lines twisting upward from the cuff. 

“Are those welts?” Kit stared.

She covered the arm with her other hand, wincing, and turning it into an exhausted smile.

"I... I don't understand." He said, trying to speak quietly. "What are you doing here? And... are you okay? Who did this to you?"

She glanced at him with a small eyebrow-raise, then looked out the window again.

"Well, isn't it obvious? I'm in disguise." She smirked, flipping a duster in her left hand and making it flourish as it danced through her fingers without even looking at it. "I'm dusting... the documents."

A small laugh burst out of Kit's chest. 

"In the sitting room?"

"Yes." Nife absently wiggled the duster on the windowsill. 

They were interrupted by an angry voice at the doorway that made Nife spin around. When she saw the housekeeper, she recoiled slightly.

"What the blazes are you--" The housekeeper started. "Oh. Kit, sir."

She shut her mouth, looking confused, as if she wasn't sure what to do here. Kit glanced between the housekeeper and Nife, collecting his wits quickly.

"Just a few minutes," He said to Enimee.

Enimee bowed shortly and left. She'd never really liked Kit. Nife's shoulders relaxed with a breath that trembled slightly. She looked down at the windowsill, biting her lip.

"What was that all about!" Kit leaned forward to whisper to Nife. "You can't be in disguise–everybody knows your face?"

"Kit," She sighed, leaning against the sill with a tired smile tugging at her mouth. "There's no point whispering. You might as well still be shouting."

"Please just answer the question," He said.

"Alright fine," She sighed. "I'm a slave. I was hoping you knew and were already working on a solution."

"A–solution to slavery?" Kit repeated, baffled by her positivity.

Her only response was a mild tilt of the head.

He stared at her, trying to wrap his mind around the new development.

"You're a slave." He said, jabbing a thumb into his eyebrow and twisting like he could screw his brain in better.

"Yeah, no need to rub it in," She said, flipping the duster a couple times. "I guess Raizden didn't have the money to pay my fine."

He couldn't stop staring at her, like he couldn't believe his eyes.  A closer look at her revealed bruises all over her blue back with fine lines of scabs over the curving lines that went up from the cuff on her right hand.

"They hurt you." He said, and the words came out in a snarl.

"Yes, well they hurt you too, and you don't see me complaining."

Kit let out a small, astonished laugh.

"What do you mean you're not complaining?" He said. "It's you complaining about it that got you..." He hesitated when she rolled her eyes and looked away with embarrassment.

"So." She said. "Solutions to slavery..."

"Okay, okay," Kit wracked his brain, scratching his head and messing up his hair that Caboodle had just smoothed down for him. "Well, you were unjustly fined for political reasons. I'd have to talk to a lawyer... Proof of Lady Wry's 'donations' to Striker would be extremely useful. Or whatever she has on Emperor Dave. That could really throw a wrench in..."

"Apparently that's my specialty." Nife said. "So I do need to dust those documents..."

"Please don't put yourself in danger for this." Kit said. "We'll get you out somehow. Maybe we can afford to buy you back."

"You can't." She huffed, twirling the duster and flipping it in the air to her right hand. "Trust me. I saw the number."

Kit stared. It must be a pretty big number. Why had his aunt wanted her that much? Just for revenge? Then again, he wouldn't put it past her.

"I think it's been a few minutes." Nife said.

"It's only been three." Kit said desperately. "Look, promise me you won't put yourself in danger. I'll get you out of this."

"Tell Warren I said I'm fine." She said, straightening up and pointing the duster at a spiderweb way up in the corner of the high ceiling. 

She squinted at it, then threw the duster like a knife toward the corner. It smacked into the web feathers-first, tumbled down, and landed in her outstretched fingers. She smirked at him sideways.

"If they hurt you, I'll..." Kit clenched his fists. "Don't let them hurt you."

"I'm fine." Nife said, not turning. "Go on, get back to Caboodle. Tell him I said hi."

"I will get you out of this." Kit said again.

Then he turned and went back to Caboodle. He had to figure something out.

First chapter: Next chapter:

Taglist: @tildeathiwillwrite @mimostic @fleur-a-whump @a-n-j-a-maria

Per Tumblr's content policy, this is the non-nsfw version of Dance of Death.

For anyone following along on this story that wants the canon NSFW version of the story, you can get the book on amazon for $0.99.

If you like this book, it would mean so much to me if you leave a review of Dance of Death on Amazon.

[ascension4all]

Well for some reason known only to the tumblr Gods my 4,000 post, 3000+ follower blog was nuked... but have no fear all you skinny muscle lovers! Stay tuned, I'm gonna come back, sort of starting over by digging up some old classics to compliment my new finds!

This post was my favorite post on my old blog and I appreciate all feedback thanks

A couple of years back I had the experience of my life when I met a very tough skinny muscle scrapper. We met on a fight site where he goes by the name Boxmyfacein and I am known as Muscle Bully. We agreed to have a hard NHB scrap in MMA gloves. We had been talking for years about having a fight that would symbolically determine who would be the top bunk if we were ever to share a prison cell. I knew from reading about some of his previous matches, he had an impressive record, but few if any of his triumphs were over men as muscled as me. I am trained in wrestling and boxing, and I thought that although he had beaten bigger, I would offer him a challenge he would not be able to meet.

At the time I was 5'10 180 he was 5'9 125. I did not think it would be a cake walk, but I truly did not believe that he would be able to overcome my size and advantage in power.

It was a hot summer evening, and when I saw him, he was looking good in a striped tank top. His slim, taut hard body was glistening with a light coating of sweat. As good as his pictures are, he looked better than I imagined and I was ready to fight. Ready to show this cocky skinny muscle boy that there was no way he was going to topple this Bully.

We got to my place and we were getting along really well as we laid out the mats for the fight. We put on our MMA gloves and then we went at it. There was no feeling out period, we both just went all out trying to beat and dominate one another. As we fought, I was amazed at how well he took my shots to his face. Truth is, he liked it, and it was as though he absorbed my energy with each shot I landed. As I was not gaining any advantage in the stand-up, I thought it might be time to take him down and overwhelm him with my size. I was able to get on top, immobilize him, but his defenses were good and I was unable to land many good punches.

He eventually escaped and we were back on our feet where we essentially remained for a the rest of a fight with a few ground clashes interspersed here and there. About 45 minutes in, it became obvious to me, he was not going down. He was getting stronger and more brutal while I was losing power.

Eventually I was on my back, and he was on top. His punches were non stop.. I rolled to my stomach, but he just choked me, made me tap, and re-assumed his top position. This went on until I started saying, "I can't believe you beat me, over and over again.. We finally decided to end the fight there because the skinny muscle scrapper was the clear winner. The Muscle Bully was beat.

It became obvious that the sheer number of previous fights he had gave him the ability to over come my advantages in size and power. He bloodied my nose and my face whereas he was unmarked. It was a beautiful sight and I cherish the blood-stained wife beater I wore as a memento of this awesome experience.

I wouldn't say I was humiliated just because the experience was so incredible. We remain friends and look forward to being able to one day fight again

[thesinglesjukebox]

TOMMY RICHMAN - "MILLION DOLLAR BABY"

Depressing math problem: how many streams of this song would it take for Mr. Richman to achieve its title status...

[6.92]

Tim de Reuse: In the TikTok age, when something goes megaviral and catapults an unknown into multi-platinum status, it's usually got, you know, a sound in it: something momentary, immediate, salty and fatty yet ephemeral and light, instantly repeatable, easily recontextualized. What single melodic hook or sound-flourish defines this song's insane popularity? It has found a way to not need one, opting instead to appeal by oozing personality out of every measure. The instrumental is bracingly dry, bright and spiky, with all atmosphere created by an uncountable set of overlapping, processed voices, braiding around each other, leaving no clear single path for your attention to follow. My favorite touch: the crunchy, dissonant minor seconds that are punched out by that synth right in the middle of the mix. The miracle here is that of a stylistic confidence, in composition and sound design, insistent enough to be as addictive as any melodic hook. [8]

Alfred Soto: Watching this model of simplicity -- beatbox, awkward falsetto, fat Miami bass -- go top five made my year. Like other flukes it justified itself. I expect no follow-up. [9]

Kylo Nocom: Great in parts: sticky funk synths, a slowed vocal sample, and some whining backing harmonies make for an impressive, cross-generationally likable cross-section of R&B. Unfortunately, the tune itself is lacking in small but vital ways, and not for the "TikTok era" song-length reasons that so many pop listeners bemoan. The chorus has a slight awkwardness that makes for increasingly grating relistens; the verse is negligible. Richman might be Brent Faiyaz's protégé, but the falsetto errs too close to Justin Vernon shoutiness for my liking. His voice is best as pure texture, so check out the "VHS" version to hear this in its peak form: densely-boosted bass clashing against strained vocal runs in a bid for primacy. It's close to what pop's decades-enduring noise vs. melody juxtaposition should be in 2024, a lineage traceable all the way back to the Wall of Sound and beyond. Gripes with this song aside, I still have hopes that this guy's got it: a recent TikTok snippet has the melodic immediacy I wish was here. [6]

Nortey Dowuona: I don't like you praising Rick Rubin, so I initiate the beef. Fuck those faux Timbaland beats, let's see you push Danja's teeth! You better off hiding his falloff than worming up to me, he's Tim Mosley, I'm Tim Curry, I'm zapping peeps. [4]

Aaron Bergstrom: Just to be clear, when I say "this dude gives me Kreayshawn vibes," what I mean is "hell yeah bouncy novelty summer jam goodness," not "I would like to have an exhausting and ultimately meaningless conversation about race." Thank you.  [8]

Taylor Alatorre: Ariel Pink if he had grown up watching MTV Jams instead of 120 Minutes, except that actually sounds like something with the hypothetical potential to be cool. Tommy Richman was born in 2000 and not 1987, but "Ariel Pink if he had grown up watching curated YouTube playlists" doesn't have the same internal symmetry. This isn't the first digital native to exploit a pan-generational Pavlovian affinity with the 808 cowbell, and it surely won't be the last. [4]

TA Inskeep: I like the vibe he's going for, and I wanna love it ('90s R&B yes please), but this is a series of Casio keyboard presets in search of a song. [5]

Harlan Talib Ockey: Whenever someone unexpected lands a huge hit, I love looking back at their previous discography to see what made this song specifically click. (Just in case there's a One Hit Wonderland episode someday.) Many of Richman’s other songs exist somewhere at the intersection of Jai Paul, Chic, and Trilogy-era The Weeknd, which is theoretically a fun mix, but they’re largely hookless and nondescript. Where's the hook in “Million Dollar Baby”? Technically the chorus, but it's this production that really makes it bang. The ominous pitch-shifted chant (apparently just "do what I should think," according to Genius, which is a little disappointing). The beeps, which are doing a shocking amount of atmospheric heavy lifting. The "oooooohs". It all builds into a particularly grim kind of sleazy desperation. (This is a compliment.) [8]

Jonathan Bradley: What does the Commonwealth of Virginia have to offer us in 2024? Rumors of Drake's hidden progeny still echoing long after Pusha T first whispered them? A download-only Pharrell Williams album? Missy Elliott being accepted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame? How about some rando signed by Brent Faiyaz exhuming the one-part soul, two-parts trunk rattler sound of UGK's country rap tunes and sending it to the upper reaches of pop charts around the world? That will do nicely, thank you. [9]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: However funky and fun this will sound all summer long, it’s in spite of Tommy Richman, who sounds underwater and gasping for breath.  [5]

Katherine St. Asaph: Tommy Richman, a rando whose every photo has the distinctive pose of a college freshman trying to look badass, was largely unknown before 2024 except for (checks Google search-by-date) a Complex roundup, an interview about how he idolizes Andy Serkis and Dennis Rodman, and probably some PR juice behind the scenes. This guy listens to some dirty funk and R&B, attempts to match its freak, and... doesn't fail? Must be my critical faculties that are failing. [6]

Ian Mathers: Okay, I'm aware the background genres are very distinct (fuckboy funk-rap here, fuckboy post-punk there), but am I the only one kinda reminded of that Artemas song we covered last month? There's a similarity in vibe (although Richman seems less odious), they both basically just figure out a good hook repeat it for a little over two minutes and that's it, and I suspect the natural environment for each is driving around the city at night in the summer. They feel like beefed up interludes or parts of songs (not a complaint, honestly!). Or am I just telling on myself by revealing I'm too old for TikTok? [8]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Every time I listen to this I feel like I'm moving further and further away from sanity. This is not a pop hit but a funhouse mirror version of one, a misremembered version of every year between 1989 and 1998 thrown into a blender and then reconstituted; Tommy Richman's falsetto is possessed by an amateurish sort of confidence that ought to have annoyed me to death after a month of this song's omnipresence. Yet every time I hear this song -- whether by my own choice or as it blasts at dangerous volumes from passing cars -- I am all the more endeared to it. The bass, whether VHS-boosted or not, activates something within me that disarms all critical impulse; I feel swallowed up by this groove as much as I enjoy it. It's the kind of song that defies analysis -- what am I going to do, write a 4,000 word essay on the transformative power of Tommy fucking Richman? Those stacks of harmonies, those radar synths and cowbell pops and dense chord stabs: they talk enough for me, self-evident of the delirious craftsmanship of this track. People valorize the garage rock and avant folk savants of the 1960s -- the Alex Chiltons and Norma Tanegas of the world -- and I get it; this feels something like that transplanted to the modern context, a little pop symphony that sounds not quite like anything else in the world. A small miracle of the song; let me stop writing before I embarrass myself any further. [10]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

[mymarifae]

favourite alt vocals for each character and/or alt vocals you want

I'm so sorry I just love your takes on project sekai things and the way you dissect them and stuff I may ask you more questions in the near future ok bye *explodes*

omg don't be sorry!! you are always welcome to ask me questions i love to talk :) 💗 as far as alt vocals go though HMMMMM...

ichika: hmmmmMMMM into the night is probably my favorite! or maybe teo. or hibana -reloaded-. one of those three. i would LOVE an ichika alt vocal for lost and found 🥺 like. pease. oh and also one for attract light!!!!

saki: i really like her from tokyo alt vocal :') it's so cute... and that song is just so Her!!!! i can't really think of any other saki alt vocals i'd like in the future though

honami: TALE OF THE DEEP SEA LILY. GOD. i really love her shinpakusuu#0822 alt vocal too... her voice is soooo pretty. i want a honami lost and found alt vocal. i would tentatively accept an ichihona duet for that but i'd prefer to hear them sing it solo i think.. the WALL is a song that needs multiple people singing for it to have full impact, so i think a honashiho duet for that could be fun!!

shiho: oh my god either voices or pulse of the meteor. both of them make me want to punch holes in my walls like they're So. GOOD. i also like her bokura mada underground and from tokyo alts :) for future alt vocals... see above but also maybe an attract light solo for her too? she like. has the perfect voice for covering *luna's music

minori: i think i like her happy synthesizer duet with haruka a lot :) but her vampire solo is super cute too... either one of those. i can't think of any other alt vocals i'd like with her 💔 a solo for booo! might be fun? or maybe it can be a duet with airi or haruka... the pastabilities. OH WAIT maybe a melty land nightmare solo??? i do like the full mmj cover but because all four of them are singing the original tune is kind of lost because they had to lower the whole song's pitch. but the original pitch is right in minori's range so... so....

haruka: easy. chikyuu saigo no kokuhaku o. it's fucking beautiful. i'm Completely at a loss for any future alt vocals though like they've kind of already added everything i would have wanted djakgnbknbkdfn

airi: icedrop :) i love that song so much just in general.. really like the shizuai karakuri pierrot duet too. an airi alt vocal for melty land nightmare might be nice too!! she has that higher range. also since minoharu got to cover lonely universe i want a shizuai alt vocal. just for fun. i think that song is basically made for minori and haruka to sing together but shizuku and airi might be able to pull it off too......

shizuku: milk crown on sonechka or into the night. i hope i die. best singer in the game. her romeo and cinderella alt vocal is interesting like the contrast between the softness of her voice and the guitar and drums...? it works strangely well. also if she doesn't get a watashi wa, watashitachi wa alt vocal in the future i will. turn into a beast idk

kohane: her awake now alt is fun! uh. idk unfortunately they haven't really given her any solo alts for the vbs songs that i.. actually like... that being said i loooove the akikoha children record duet <3 i want more akikoha duets their voices work really well together and it's not utilized nearly as often as it should be!!!! maybe a hitsuji ga ippiki akikoha duet. that might work. although i would like to hear kohane perform that song by herself 🤔 also while i'm here on vbs something that i really want for them in general is like. each of the akitoya duets to be covered by anhane and vice versa. or give antoya and akikoha more limelight by giving them alt vocals on the akitoya/anhane duets but i think that one's a little unlikely given colorful palette's track record so i'd settle for them swapping. like i want to hear anhane cover doctor=funk beat. come on that would be fun. i don't think toya and akito would do well with like. just be friends or imperial girl. but it'd be funny at least. (i think they could pull off pheles though)

an: MACHI IS MY FAVORITE i love her machi solo so much it makes me want to cry. auhghhhhh an..... she kinda kicked ass with alter ego too though. i would loooooove a pheles alt... also hitsuji ga ippiki again

akito: alter ego. beloved. slams my head through a brick wall. i'm also fond of his garando alt! there's also the akitoya tokio funka cover that isn't in the stupid fucking game but i love it to pieces anyway

i will never understand the decision behind not putting this in the game but whatever. Whatever.... for future alt vocals i think the only thing i really want for him is a kashika alt. another song that makes me want to sob

toya: mirai or ame to petra <3 or. ghost city tokyo. <3 i can't think of any other alt vocals i'd like for him. but on the note of vbs just in general, i would like to hear them sing daybreak frontline individually... but part of why i love that cover so much is the fact that they're all singing together and having so so so so much fun. together. as friends. so i'm also like "no wait don't separate them" abgkdjfvnlskdjvbjfl

tsukasa: journey!!!! literally kind of a jawdrop when i heard his solo because i almost NEVER enjoy his voice but he KILLEDDDDDD it there. he sounds really fucking good in mr. showtime too so i'd like an alt vocal for that :) and nothing else. no more tsukasa alt vocals

emu: uh. uhhhhhhhhhhh😭 ok wait her odore orchestra alt is cute. i will accept an emu love ka solo if and only if they let her seiyuu go nuts because with emu's usual vocal direction like... no... no do not let her sing that by herself (don't let anyone in wxs or the entire game sing it jesus christ) but if kino is allowed a little more freedom.. well points to this once again

she could do love ka justice i think.

nene: KAMI NO MANIMANI 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 LIKE. the minute i learned that wxs covered that song i was like "wow i wish there was a nene alt vocal for this" and then THEY ACTUALLY CAME OUT WITH ONE... i lostmy mind that day. anyway i'm fed forever as far as nene alt vocals go that's all i wanted and i got it so agdkjfvbknlvdnfkjnfl

rui: as you like it!!!!! that song is so perfect for him in every way... if i didn't know better i'd assume it was a commission for a rui focus event tbh. nene's kami no manimani alt is superior but i really really really like rui's too <3 we don't talk about emu or tsukasa's. UM future alt vocals... hmm maybe one for what sort of ending are you wishing for?. the ending bit where he's the only one singing makes me emotional it's VERY pretty.. i'd like to hear what the rest of the song sounds like with just him singing

kanade: i will always prefer the kanamafu duet, but kanade's meru solo is lovely. very, very, very lovely... tricologe is nice too! i think i'd like an irony alt vocal for her someday :) samsa is a very punchy song and kanade's singing style is very whisper-y but i think tbh if they give her an alt vocal for it they'll let her seiyuu loose a little bit. just considering the event it was written for.

mafuyu: usseewa without a doubt. that is HIS song it was written for him (not really but it fits him to a very scary T). i really love his meru alt too. i just like meru in general it makes my heart ache (in a good way). i think he should get a non-breath oblige alt. i think he would kill it

ena: nomad or maybe mousou kanshou daishou renmei! not sure about alt vocals for her that don't already exist... maybe gehenna???

mizuki: i think. probably kanadetomosusora. she sounds so lovely there... i do really like her alts for charles, lower, and usseewa too though :) i'd like to hear her sing deichuu ni saku and also gehenna again by herself!!!!

[adultswim2021]

Moral Orel #41: “Sacrifice” | November 18, 2008 - 12:15AM | S03E11

Sacrifice is gonna be a little hard to talk about extensively because it’s not really joke-driven. It’s funny, and has jokes on it, but most of the episode is basically a one-act play taking place in Forghetty's pub. But before that, the episode actually opens with a little flashback to Numb, featuring Clay’s POV scene at the end. This time it’s not scored to Mountain Goats, and we just hear him muttering to himself. Then we join the church service at the end of the previous episode, Sundays. Reverend Putty’s sermon is about some Jesus story where a tomb or some shit gets opened and there’s nothing in it, and how nothingness can actually mean hope. 

Do you all like how I didn’t even bother to look up that Jesus stuff they referenced? Isn’t it weird that I’m ostensibly Catholic (not anymore I'm normal now! I'm Bahá’í!) and I don’t even seem to have a passing familiarity with Jesus’s greatest hits? Anyway, I had to work on my day off and I’m PISSED OFF so I’m taking out on this blog by doing a bad job. Sorry. 

Speaking of doing a bad job: I really can’t see myself going beat-by-beat for this episode, because it’s mostly dialogue. But here's the paragraph where I try and sum it up:

Various men in Moralton encounter each other in the bar and have it out with Clay, who rants and goads the others (Officer Papermouth, Reverend Putty, and Dr. Potterswheel). Clay declares that he can’t come into his stinking dead end job or else he’ll kill somebody, the drama queen! He winds up Reverend Putty and Officer Papermouth over their woes with, as it turns out, the same woman. And Clay says nasty stuff to the doctor because, as we see in Numb/the earlier scene rehashed from Numb, Clay discovered and currently possesses his handkerchief that Bloberta took out of his office.

This bar scene (which is the lion's share of the episode) ends with Clay practically begging for a pop to the face. The other men all decide against punching Clay, and simply walk out, paralleling his own father’s declaration of him not being “worth it”. 

The episode itself ends with Orel at home, calling the bar to try and reach his father. Bloberta is tearing the house apart looking for the handkerchief. Shapey actually says something eloquent (and sad!). The credits roll over footage of Clay returning to the nature reserve to retrieve the bear carcass he thinks he shot. 

This one’s a highlight for the season, just pure theater and great performances. That's episode 11 of 13! Two to go! Or three. Or… FOUR?

MAIL BAG

Normally at the end of these posts I do a 44 Nights of Orel wrap-up, but since they aired two premieres back to back, I don’t have any repeats to note. So, I’m doing a Mail Bag instead. Unfortunately that means I will not be needing the Dino and Scott picture to introduce it. Sorry.

*sung to the tune of the cartoon network ad where chicken of cow & chicken plays electric guitar on a stage* Robot Chicken yeah, Robot Chicken yeah, Robot Chicken yeAHHH

Um… link??

kevin smith looks like a fucking dog in cartoon form. they should give him a bone and let him run around the yard.

I wouldn’t leave him alone with your infant, movie tickets, or clit/brown/taint-area, that is for sure.

Hey fake woke Americans, guess who actually lives on stolen land? You do. Guess who actually lives on stolen land? You do. You do. You do. Me Jew. You do. Me Jew. You do. You live on stolen land. Anyway looking forward to your Eagleheart and Dinner in America writeups!

Hahah. Oh man. You ain’t kiddin’ brother.

My daughter turns 11 this month, I basically stopped watching adult swim not too long before she was born but I never missed a sunday before that. This has been a great look back and I'm excited to start seeing what I missed soon. 

Hey man, I know this message you’ve sent in isn’t actually finished yet, but this just meant so much to me that I had to stop reading it right here and respond immediately. I know, I’m breaking my own protocol, but it’s worth it for me to give you the extra attention. This is the stuff that’s truly important in life and it touches my heart and means the world to me. Cherish your little one, and maybe some day when she’s old enough she’ll even become a viewer and reader of this blog! I know, it seems a long ways away, but she’ll be a little adult swimmer before you know it, so cherish these moments, and know that I cherish you. Okay, onto the rest of your message:

Also, my daughters last birthday wish was a Dino and Scott banner, so could you make it happen?

No! 

Matt Christmas from cahpo

Very weird stuff you’re saying right now, but I heard he’s doing better. Isn’t that great? Surely you’re happy to hear this, and you’re not doing some tasteless bit where you’re pretending to be him right now. That would be UNTOWARD. 

me love the way you talk the way you move is so hot. now let me get you a shot of rum and then make you wanna come...with me to the ocean. that would be phat. you could be my bow cat. nice ital breeze, bring you to your knees. we jammin.

Stop doing this! I have to google it every time and pretend I already know it’s a Steven Segal song. Do you have any idea how sad it is to get weird words in the mail and then you google them and you have to look at a picture of Steven Segal. He is always giving "fuck me" eyes to the camera. This is practically assault, and I will have you removed.

I'm not the one sending you messages about the making the morel orel guys the banner but I do think it's a good idea.

It’s a good idea. It might be the idea the saves the world. But, I never buckle. The racist cartoon stays, and I will also keep being racist

Hey this is Paul McCartney of the Beatles and Wings. Happy Tasty Tuesday to all who celebrate it. Tell me about your pets.

Hi Paul. I like (not love) your rock and roll music and viral videos. I don’t have any pets they are all in hell right now. My roommate has two frisky cats and sometimes they come in here while I’m masturbating, just beh-ging for pets. Of course… I gotta hand it to ‘em. Both of them are nice. Thanks for writing in before you die next week

[musicarenagh]

Blind Man's Daughter's "Kyhell" is a Melodic Prog Metal Masterpiece. There's a reason New Mexico sits on ancient spiritual land. Its majestic terrain offers the same breadth and beauty bestowed upon us by Albuquerque's own melodic progressive metal band, Blind Man's Daughter, in the form of their latest single “Kyhell,” off their album “Sundressed.” The single radiates with power, passion, and metalacious (if that's not a word, it should be) complexity. https://open.spotify.com/track/30WEZF28itNSL1uyJcMMmF The track showcases Blind Man's Daughter’s striking ability to harmoniously blend the melodic, progressive, and metal. You're set adrift in a sea of aural ecstasy, where the intensity of the drums doesn't just provide a backbone; they're the pulsing veins that feed the beast of the tune. The guitar work is nimble yet heavy, a reminder of the dual nature of the metal genre - both art and aggression. [caption id="attachment_50656" align="alignnone" width="1022"] Blind Man's Daughter's "Kyhell" is a Melodic Prog Metal Masterpiece.[/caption] The beating heart of the tune, however, is undeniably Ashley Wolfe. As the frontwoman, her position is glaringly crucial and she does more than just fill the role. She embodies the spirit, aura, and intensity of the music. Ashley's vocals are not just a display of technical prowess, they're a manifestation of raw emotion boiling over, seeping into the listener's psyche. Whether it's a smooth, flowing sequence or a sequence punctuated with surprising growls, the power behind Ashley's voice is consistently palpable. This potent vocal execution complements the intricate tapestry weaved by the lyrics of the song. Ashley presents an intricate painting of emotions, layering themes with surprising clarity. It’s rare to find such lyrical depth and raw candor in modern heavy music, refreshing in an arena often crowded with muddled metaphors and forced poetic license. “Medicated”: An R&B Revelation of Love From July Don’t let the progressive tag deter you; "Kyhell" isn't an indigestible, contrived seven-part suite. Instead, it’s a powerful single that exudes utter honesty alongside a serious sonic punch. The production ties everything together beautifully, giving each instrumental layer room to breathe without sacrificing the overall intensity. "Kyhell", much like its creators Blind Man's Daughter, is a swirling maelix of the beautiful and the brutal, the fierce and the fragile. It's a song destined to insinuate itself into the annals of metal's pantheon, cementing the band's rightful place. Blind Man's Daughter’s greatness is far from 'emerging' - it is here, blistering, enchanting, and unmistakably real. If “Kyhell” is a precursor to what's to come, be prepared for a seismic shift in the progressive metal landscape. In a nutshell, “Kyhell” demands not just to be heard, but to be experienced. So dive in, fellow metalheads. Let's take this mesmerizing journey together. Follow the band on Website and Facebook.

[ishipallthings]

Cap-IM Rec Week 2021 (Tropey Tues) - Fake Relationship

Tropey Tuesday, July 20: Come and rec works that have your favourite tropes for @cap-ironman rec week.

Tropes are great - in this list, I’m going to focus on a favourite: fake relationship!

Remember to show some love for your hard-working creators!

punch me in the mouth (with your mouth) by swisstae

Steve is in love with Tony. Has been, for years. And the thing is, he's pretty damn sure Tony doesn't reciprocate that interest because they've been on dozens of fake dates and he's never once breathed a word about it. They just fake propose to each other to get free food. That's all there is to it. Nothing more.

or: the one in which Steve is an oblivious idiot and likes punching people (and is a total sucker for Tony).

if i'm dreaming baby (please don't wake me up) by @eachxnn

“What?” Is all Steve can answer before Tony darts round the desk with speed, landing in Steve’s lap. He reaches out with his hands to steady him, and is rewarded with a handful of Anthony Stark’s ass. He is currently holding the ass of a man who features as an answer on Wheel of Fortune. This cannot possibly be his life.

Or the Fake Boyfriends AU.

tear these old walls down by susiecarter

Steve didn't like Tony Stark.

Stark probably didn't like Steve, either. They'd gotten off on the wrong foot, and that was putting it mildly.

And having to pretend to be a civilian Stark was dating, as cover for trying to save Stark's life while Iron Man was busy with a SHIELD mission, obviously wasn't going to help.

tomorrow can wait (come whatever) by @stovetuna

Steve and Tony are photographed mid-battle, which is par for the course. By the time they get home, the whole world thinks they're engaged, which is...not. But it's not a big deal—they'll figure things out eventually.

come build a home out of me by @maguna-stxrk

Steve clears his throat.

“What if I went with you?” he asks nonchalantly, like his heart isn’t threatening to beat out of his ribcage.

Tony blinks a few times, looking at Steve, his mouth ajar. “As a— As my date?”

Check One by JenTheSweetie

Steve has an annoying best friend. Tony has an elaborate plan. Sam has allergies. Bucky has no idea what's about to hit him.

Come Save Me by @hollyandvice

Tony convinces Steve to come to a charity gala with him. Someone tries to take the supposedly vulnerable heroes out of play. Shenanigans ensue.

diastolic pressure (in between heartbeats) by firebrands

"Steve and Tony have been fake dating for a while, but everyone else thinks they're *really* in love. When a mission goes terribly and Tony is presumed dead, Steve realizes he's in love with Tony and Dramatic Shenanigans Ensue."

Time Can But Make It Easier by thistlethorns

Tony and Steve were once best friends. Eight years out of college, they meet again at work and end up having to fake a relationship to get out of a messy situation.

Love was made for me and you by RossKL 

“Since when does Steve Rogers drink?” Tony teases. He watches Steve getting closer, stopping only when his body is pressed up to Tony’s side.

“It’s iced tea, Tony.” Steve smiles. His hand wanders down Tony’s spine. “You know I don’t drink on the job,” he finishes, hand resting on Tony’s hip. Holy shit.

There's Absolutely Nothing Romantic About This Getaway by @the-vorkosigan

Still at odds with each other, Steve and Tony go on a secret mission. The pretend relationship is not a part of it, really; it starts off as a stupid joke, but it becomes progressively more difficult to wriggle out of it.

any other way of loving by @brandnewfashion

In which Steve is bad at dating, Tony isn’t, and neither of them are as subtle as they think.

Here’s a self-rec:

We're Going Off-Script: Steve needs help in the dating department. Tony is happy to help out, because he’s a very good friend. That’s definitely the only reason.

Hope you guys enjoy the recs, and stay tuned for more! Here is my tag for previous years’ rec lists.

[hyuukais]

24 to 25

Twenty-four to twenty-five, bae. Just stay with me.

Word Count: 533

Genre: Seungmin x reader, fluff

Warnings: none, I don’t think, unless the word crap counts as swearing?

Author: Merry Christmas and happy holidays!! Thank you @seoulbinz for beta reading :D (this is my little addition for the ficscafe holiday event !)

The world was quiet, preparing for a white Christmas. Snow dotted the streets and windows. Fountains were frozen and roads were iced over. Lights lit up the white in rainbow. Family celebrations paused for a glimpse of the wonder. Laughter and cheer permeated the night, spilling from each home, and yours was no exception.

Boisterous sounds of joy filled the living room. Felix is laid out, sprawled across the floor in a laughing fit. Chan and Jeongin are giggling along with him from the kitchen. Changbin films from beside the coffee table, Minho’s commentary cutting in from behind him. A smile is plastered to your face looking around at all your friends enjoying Hyunjin and Jisung’s chaotic Just Dance rendition of Feel Special. The moment you land on Seungmin, whose side you're currently tucked into, the smile only grows wider. His face was lit up in a cheek-splitting grin, eyes creased into glittering crescents. Euphonious laughs drip off his lips. This sight of him so happy lit off tiny fires throughout your blood, increasing the warmth of your heart tenfold. Happiness flooded you, looking away before you began melting in a puddle endearment. Everyone’s spirits showed no sign of decline even as the performance came to end with uproarious applause.

“Absolutely amazing!”

“Wonderful!”

“Bravo! Brava!”

The two dipped down in deep bows, “Thank you, thank you. We’ll be here all night.”

As the noise died back down, the boys went back to chatting and seeing who would go up next. You excused yourself to the kitchen to refill on punch. Looking out from the island, joy greeted every bit of your heart at the sight of your friends’ smiling faces. You were with all of the people who made your life brighter. These moments meant everything to you and there seemed no end to the swelling bliss inside your chest.

Turning away you came face to face with the large window above the sink, eyes turning wide at the sight, “Guys! It’s snowing!”

At the shout, they all came running in to look at it with you.

Seungmin rushed right back to your side, “It’s so pretty.”

“Mhm.”

“Wow, even the roads are almost completely covered.” Felix pointed out.

A sudden realization hit you, “Oh crap. I should probably head out before it’s too dangerous for me to get home.” You walked to the foyer, fumbling for your jacket, “Thank you so much for having me. I’ll hopefully be able to get over here tomorrow morn-”

“Stay here for the night.” There, Seungmin stood in front of you, hands wringing and face red.

“Minnie, I don’t want to intrude.”

His hands reached for you, one falling upon your cheek, rubbing gently, “You aren’t. You’re my partner, you’re always welcome here. I-I want you here. Take a break. Stay with me for Christmas.”

“O-okay.” There it was again. His face split into a grin, this one shyer than before, cheeks dusted in pink, and eyes twinkling. Soon, the blush spread to you as he leaned in closer. Lips moving, noses brushing, fingers interwoven, hearts beating in tune. He pulled away breathless before gripping harder on your hand and bringing you back into the festivities.

[lespritdekin]

enslaving appetence.

the man dressed in white was an enigma, but his revolting desire to possess you for all of his eternity wasn't. na jaemin was the devil's entity in human form, and he scorched you in the burning flames of your nightmares.

pairingㅡ yandere!jaemin x fem!reader

other charactersㅡ best friend and crush!jeno

genreㅡ yandere!au

warningsㅡ madman!jaemin, stalking, obsession, unhealthy possessiveness, mentions of sexual preferences, breach of privacy, implied physical abuse, use of a baseball bat.

song recㅡ she will be loved by maroon 5

disclaimerㅡ as far as my miniscule intelligence could muster, i may have posted this piece on wattpad a year ago or two under the name 'neo alternative plots' or alike. with that explanation, please don't react to the oneㅡshot's presence here on tumblr negatively. this also isn't proofread.

You watched as the pink decorations of the ceiling mimicked your nose, the happy smile on your face getting greeted by an excited Roseanne. You embraced her dressed her figure as she did your own, the gentle noise of the lullabies of her favorite songs supplemented her girlish saturnalia.

You observed your environment and smiled widely, this was the theme you wanted when you were sixteen, and you're happy your best friend got to live her dreams.

You were scooping in a small bowl of punch to drink and munch on as all of you were at the backyard of Roseanne's home, a film on going about your female companion's life story to where she is now. As you were about to pull a slice of lasagna from the tray, a large figure dressed in white shadowed your hand.

You looked up to see a gorgeous brunette with dark, tantalizing eyes, his pretty lips in a small lopsided smile. You unconsciously swallowed the lump in your throat and pulled your hand away from him, apologizing for the things you've never done wrong.

❝I don't accept apologies from gentle faces, princess.❞ A lethargic smirk made its way to his devastatingly breathtaking face, the air escaping your nose suddenly asking for entrance.

❝Although, I'd love to see you rotten.❞ The leathery substance of his inky voice held your throat captive in its seat, the inching hand on your own tiny one made your skin crawl. Your eyes trembled from their sockets, the humidity of his lips turning your skin cold.

What did he want to turn you in?

R-Rotten?

❝P-please,❞ You squeaked, his eyes turning darker, duller, more disheartening. ❝Let go of me.❞ The nimble appendages around yours tightened their grip, the male forced a smile. You yanked your hand away, and a broad back made its way to greet your mousy nerves. Your cheek touched the soft fabric of his lavender pullover, and you immediately acknowledged the scent.

❝Respect the girl's privacy, man.❞ Jeno grumbled from his strong stance, the sardonic, hateful laugh of the man with midnight eyes eyeing your best friend's hand on yours, the way your fingers clutched at Jeno and not at him.

❝Pretty boy came to pretty girl's rescue, how romantic.❞ The white silk of his fit tuxedo adjusted, his hand running up the thick strands of his brown hair. His head hung down, but his eyes bulged forward. Your hands scrambled to find substance of relief when his feet came closer and closer, his abyssmal orbs boring right into your savior.

❝Better watch out for the Madman if you want your skin unscathed.❞ The silence of his voice caused you to wince, and you hid your face on Jeno's back, his hand instinctively holding your arm. The odd chap turned away, went on his heel, and disappeared into the party. You held your head, Jeno turning immediately to hold you close to him.

❝You're alright, [Name]. You're safe.❞ Tears blurred your vision and you cried, large thumbs swiping them away. Jeno didn't need to ask what you needed to have, wanted to hold, he was there through it all, and he's seen you in lights other people haven't, seen you burned and drowned and survived.

❝I'll take you home.❞ Jeno excused the both of you, telling the birthday girl that you needed to leave. Rosie embraced you and wished for your well-being before you left. Jeno never let go of your hand, you've been staring at it for the entire while. The male looks down at you, an apologetic smile on his face.

❝I'll hold your hand, don't worry. The parking lot's only a few blocks away, I'll keeping you close.❞ You didn't give him a response, continuing to walk along side him.

You sat inside the front seat and held your phone with trembling hands, your best friend turning on the heater for you. He kissed your head before driving away from the parking lot, wanting to play the first song of your favorite playlist whenever you're feeling down.

❝Dㅡdo you mind?❞ You softly asked Jeno, his eyes suddenly turning into crescent moons when he looked at you. ❝Go on.❞ You turned your phone of and browsed through the screen, pressing onto the first song of a dozen. Your nose had turned red from crying, and the only way you could ease it away was by listening to your favorite songs.

Jeno caught a glimpse of your face once the tune reverberated within the vehicle. He sighed, absolutely despised when male after male molest you. You weren't a toy to play with, you needed care, love and guidance, some things he's always done to you for so long.

You felt revolting. You felt like your world was crippling, distorting, shattering, just as you were finally alright again, just as you were finally read to be happy again. Your fingers shivered despite the ongoing heat of the car. Your best friend took notice and held your hand in his again, your heart almost ‎skipping another beat.

He brought you to your flat and made sure that your roommates were home. He gave you a towel after knocking on the door for permission, seeing your newly washed face gave him feathers inside. You were so adorable like that. You dried your face and changed into a pair of thick pink pajamas, your thoroughly scrubbed hand rivaling the feminine color.

You assisted Jeno on the way to the door after he made sure all of your windows and doors were locked and snug. You laughed at him softly after the occurrence of a male touching you like a predator temporarily left your mind as you see Jeno with roseate adorning his cheeks.

You look up at him with red eyes, already wrapping your arms around him. ❝I could kiss you right now.❞ He muttered, holding your cheek. ❝But, I don't have your consent, and your roommates are probably awake.❞ You giggled wholeheartedly, causing him to heave a sigh despite chuckling.

❝[Name], your parents might hate me!❞ He whined, but you continued to laugh, you didn't give a damn if he brought you to a stage and kissed you in front of a crowd, you didn't care if he kissed you in a family reunion.

❝You two are so annoying!❞ Someone screamed from two bedrooms down, the both of you and Jeno genuinely laughing. Despite allowing his submission to appear, his hands never left your back protectively, and you felt safer than a baby getting taken care of an entire village.

He held you in his arms one last time before walking through the doorway, closing the door after him. You leaned your back on the smooth wood and slid down, keeping your squeals at minimum. Your person of interest of almost a year held you like you were the most delicate thing in the world, kissed your hair, made you feel special, and wanted your parent's approval of everything.

You went back to your room and screamed into the pillows, your hand waiting for the phone to ding. You eventually turned drowsy, but you couldn't sleep. You tossed and turned, but they were futile. You went downstairs and had three glasses of water, all chugging them down in one go.You washed your face in the kitchen sink and washed your glass and was about to return, not until one of your favorite songs played through the speakers from your room.

Your eyes trembled, and so did your hands.

You immediately hid inside a bottom cabinet, covering your mouth with your hands.Your roommates never entered your room strictly without your word, and they disliked your odd taste in music for them to play your speaker and one of your favored songs. Just before you could foolishly land your foot over the creaking wood of the stairwell, the screeching noise of your room opened, heavy, aching boots gripped the silence of the flat, and you almost pissed yourself.

You covered your ears, the sound of another thumping object frightening you. He desired nothing but to daunt you, turn you into a demented marionette, just like him.

Beauty queen of only eighteen

She had some trouble with herself

He was always there to help her

She always belonged to someone else

Each nerve in your body stiffened and your teeth clattered, you assume your hair stood in all directions, and you're certain your heartbeat's abormally thumping inside your chest. You need Jeno, but your phone's in your room, you could call or run for your roommates, but he'd already be there, appendages wrapped prettily around your neck.

And indeed, he was awaiting for your arrival of submission.

I drove for miles and miles and wound up at your door

I've had you so many times, but somehow, I want more

The deafening dollops of burning rubber on wood ceased sound, but the certain reverberating outcries of polished wood on rusty ones had you inching closer to the corner of an enclosure that barely fit you, and your mind was running wild. He could feel it, your idiotic heartbeat grumbling inside an unprotected fence, something he can break so easily.

❝I don't mind spending everyday out on the corner in the pouring rain.❞

Your eyes shot up, the accostumed voice in your ears, the silent, demanding whispers, the glacial, dispassionate delivery of a monster, and you've only heard it once. He smirked, tracing the dimly lit crevices from the street lamps standing tall on the fronts of the floor, the thin glass of the windows making him believe how pathetic you were, how much of a feeble-minded whore you were.

Look for the girl with a broken smile

Ask her if she wants to stay a while

You hear footsteps again, aggressive, menacing, resounding, and he was so close, so near of getting his hands on you, taking what was never his. You enclosed your fingers and bit your knuckle, closing your eyes shut. Tears encaptured the pink-stained skin of your plump, delicate cheeks. He could materialize the trembling clatter of your teeth, the perspiration in between your chest, and the reverberating drift of your clenching pussy.

And she will be loved

❝She will be loved.❞

[egcdeath]

opposites attract

pairing: steve rogers x villain!reader

summary: based off of the lyrics:

“you and i are two oceans apart

we're on earth to break each others hearts

in two, and it's hard

with you, when i'm too far

from you, i look at the stars,

do you?”

from ‘ferrari’ by the neighbourhood

warnings: injuries, sparring, mention of blood and bruises, angst, fluff, and banter

word count: 3.7k

a/n: i am a simple woman. i think of a hurt/comfort concept and am morally obligated to write it. (this is a repost from the other day so if you saw it before, no you didn’t)

if you’d like to be added to my taglist, click here! as always, comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3

Thick, cushioned, cream colored walls. You supposed this was an upgrade from your last room, with its harsh and reflective steel. Every time you made an appearance here, it seemed there was a new, yet futile, attempt to keep you contained.

As you studied the pillowy surface, you drummed your fingers on the wooden table that your hands were currently strapped down to, and secretly hoped for your captor to rear his head, even if he was peeking through the double-sided mirror to your left.

Your mind proved itself to be a powerful thing, as the door ahead of you opened, and none other than Captain America stepped in, looking valiant and proud as ever.

“Good afternoon, Captain,” you greeted.

“Flux,” he said in a matter of faculty tone, nodding his head at you before pulling the chair in front of you aside and sitting down.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” you asked, as if you hadn’t been tussling with him in the streets less than an hour ago.

“Y’know, just our biweekly catch up,” he shrugged, playing along.

“Can I suggest coffee for our next meeting?”

Steve scoffed, but you almost swore that if you squinted, you could see him blush. “Enough of that,”  he mumbled before opening a yellow folder and turning it to face you. “You ready to tell me about him?” Steve asked, pointing to a printed photo of Brock Rumlow.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Captain,” you responded, looking up and batting your lashes at the man. This routine was like clockwork for you two. Fight a little, get yourself caught after a moment of weakness, and end up in an interrogation room.

“Don’t play dumb with me Flux,” he warned in a snarl, wrapping his fingers against your wrist and making you yelp. That was definitely going to leave a mark.

“Ouch, Captain. You’re being rough today, even for you.”

“I’m always rough with you,” he insisted, raising a brow as he loosened his hold on you.

“You’re being rougher than usual, that’s what I just said,” you furrowed your own brows at him. “Something on your mind?

“You’re stalling,” Steve stated while squinting at you.

“I would never do something like that, Cap,” you closed your eyes and visualized the outside of the building. “Does it have anything to do with those accords?”

You opened an eye quick enough to catch a glimpse of his jaw ticking, “I didn’t mean to strike a chord. Oh my gosh, ‘a chord’, accord. I really didn’t even mean to do that.”

You opened your other eye to get a clear view of him glaring at you. “Okay, sorry, I’ll be out of your hair in a moment,” you gave Steve a sly wink.

He stood up from the chair in a dramatic fashion, leaning down to get right in your face. “No. You won’t. Tell me everything you know about Rumlow.”

“Cap,” you pouted mockingly. “You’re not very good at this. Really makes a gal wonder why they keep sending you in to interrogate me, when you don’t seem to get much out of me.”

He grit his teeth while looking down at you, your eye contact both intense and passionate.

“If it makes you feel any better,” you began, looking away at a plain wall in an attempt to focus a bit more on leaving, “I genuinely know nothing about him.”

Steve gave you a humorless look, and your eyes naturally flitted back to him, “really,” he said drily.

“Really,” you confirmed. “We don’t really work in that whole chemical warfare field. Especially with a guy like Rumlow? He’s bad news. Did you really think that all ‘villains’,” you made air quotations on the table. “Know the intimate details of each other’s lives and plans?”

“Hmm,” Steve hummed aloud as he moved back, seemingly convinced.

“I was serious when I said that I’m leaving, though. You and I both have better things to do. But please tell Wanda that she did a good job for me, okay? I mean, civilian deaths are never pretty, but I genuinely would miss having you around.”

“I hate how you talk so much, but literally say nothing,” he huffed.

“I’m not gonna take that personal, ‘cause I know you don’t really mean that,” you sighed softly and looked away to visualize the outside of the building. “Hopefully the next time I see you won’t be UN sanctioned. Farewell, Captain.”

With those words, you were gone.

——

For the next few days of your life, you hadn’t stopped receiving an earful at the Brooklyn base. Mainly from your teammates, who seemed to never let things go, and were the nastiest gossips you’d ever met. Currently, rumor had it that Cecelia, your boss, was preparing to have a strong word with you.

You cracked your knuckles anxiously as you followed a teammate, Amelia, down into the sparring facility, as an attempt to calm your mind before whatever bad news was broken to you.

You passively listened to the TV in the corner of the room while wrapping your knuckles in preparation of getting your ass beat, and listened to the rapid fire reports from hours earlier in the day, but mainly tuned into the fight between the Avengers at the Leipzig airport.

“Have you heard?” Amelia questioned, tying up her lengthy hair as she sauntered onto the mat.

“No, tell me more,” you followed suit on the mat, rising onto the ball of your foot to the heel of your foot in an alternating rhythmic bounce.

“I guess some of it is that UN thing, but it’s probably because of the Winter Soldier,” Amelia bounced similarly to you before charging forward and throwing a left hook at you.

“No way! I thought that guy just disappeared after that S.H.I.E.L.D shit,” you dodged the swing, and went to knee her. “I swear, I asked Steve about it once.”

Amelia rolled her eyes at you, and caught your knee, pushing you down to the ground in the process. “You’re obsessed with him.”

“I think it’s mutual. And you said you’d go easy on me,” you whined, grabbing her extended hand and pulling yourself back up.

“You’re delusional, and that’s why Cec is pissed with you. In fact, Cecelia was so mad, that she couldn’t even form the words to tell you. At least, that’s what she told Naomi.”

“Why, though? It’s not like I haven’t been caught by him a million times already.”

“That’s the problem, though. What happens when they decide to send someone else in to talk to you? And they start waterboarding you, or some shit? All the sudden the Avengers know everything about us?”

“Well that wouldn’t happen, because I would leave,” you shrugged after blocking a few punches.

“I hope you’re getting all your aloof-ness out now, because Cecelia is not gonna put up with this attitude.”

You huffed, and marched over to get a sip of water, dramatically squirting it in your mouth before heading back to the sparring mat.

“Just let me enjoy this while I can, okay? I know how to protect myself,” you swung your fist in an uppercut, and Amelia maneuvered herself out of the way.

“Well, I was just reading something before this. Apparently your boy is a fugitive of the law now. It almost looks like your time is already up,” Amelia commented, delivering a stiff jab to you at the same time that you crouched.

Hearing this news, you froze up, and the punch landed right on your nose, an unsatisfying crack reverberating in your ears.

“Y/N, you alright?” She asked, approaching you as you reached a hand up assess the damage, and pulled away an extremely bloody hand.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you mumbled letting her lead you off of the mats and to the connected bathroom, so you could get a better look at yourself.

You were dizzy with pain, and you pressed your hand to your nose, willing it to heal. Though not your most frequently used ability, it certainly assisted some of the pain. You squeezed your face in a cringe as your bone rearranged itself.

“Is he in jail?” you asked, watching her face screw up in the mirror.

“You’re not really- you are a lost cause,” Amelia scoffed.

“You could be a little nicer to the person whose nose you just broke.”

“You’re fixing your own nose! You’re fine, okay?” she exasperatedly brought her palm up to her forehead. “I’m gonna go take a shower. Be ready to talk to Cecelia as soon as you leave this room. A word of advice? Don’t mention your work husband unless she mentions it first, okay?”

Amelia set a hand on your back and pat it, “good luck with her. If you need a sofa to crash on after this, my place is always free.”

You shook your head at yourself as she left, your own personal healing already fixing most of the damage. As you hopped into your own shower stall, you couldn’t help but question just how bad this confrontation was truly going to be.

——

You walked into Cecelia’s office after receiving a text message from her assistant, inviting you to meet with her.

You were handed a disposable cup filled with piping hot coffee as you entered, and Cecelia beckoned you to sit down in front of her. You obliged, nervously rubbing your hands on your pants as you sat.

“Y/N,” she began in a sigh, “what has gotten into you lately?”

“Nothing, just-“ the older woman put an open hand out, prompting you to stop.

“No, Y/N. You’ve let Rogers become your biggest blind spot. You let him catch you off guard and capture you nearly every single time you go out on the field! I’m starting to think that you want him to catch you.”

“What if I do?” you shrugged, feigning indifference.

“It’s not a ‘what if’ anymore, dear,” Cecelia took a deep breath. “Especially after what happened in San Francisco.”

“I- Cec, you told me that you wouldn’t bring up California anymore!” you huffed and shook your head. “It’s not even like it’s a problem. They haven’t once received intel from me,” you added.

“Something tells me that you won’t be having the same interrogator for a while at least. We were gonna take you out of the field before this whole Avengers fiasco, but I think it’s time for you to just take a break as a whole.”

“So you’re firing me?” you huffed, “great.”

“No, you are taking a break. We can get you set up in the Prague safe house, and everything.”

You weakly threw up your hands and looked away from Cecelia, not even being able to bear looking at her for the moment. What a great day you were having.

——

You sulked the whole way up to your apartment, and reached in your jacket’s pocket with sluggish speed. It was as if you couldn’t catch a break today, which was all you seemed to be able to think about while grabbing your key.

You looked up at the door, and noticed something slightly off. The door was just the slightest bit ajar, as if it was deliberately cracked for you to see. Someone was inside. Waiting for you. You held in your groan as you came to this conclusion.

You really couldn’t catch a break.

Despite your better judgement, you devised a quick plan in your mind. You could probably protect yourself, right? You closed your eyes in a blink, and imagined your kitchen. The plasticky tiles on the floor, the dent in your countertop from dropping a mug, the wooden cupboards that you’d quickly fallen in love with. The next moment, you were standing in your kitchen, right next to your silverware.

As quiet as you could possibly manage to be, you slipped your sharpest and largest knife from its home in a wooden block, and defensively in front of you. Creeping out of the kitchen and into your hallway, you examined area by area for any sign of intrusion, pointing your knife with every turn.

After finding nothing and no one, at the end of the hallway you turned, walking back down and stopping in front of your living room after noticing a few dark stains on your carpet.

You took a deep breath before walking into the open space, the pit in your stomach growing at the thought of what it was that you were about to find.

With a few timid steps, you found a shirtless Steve Rogers, sat on your couch, head lolled back, eyes squeezed shut in pain as he released shallow breaths and attempted to apply pressure to a wound. With one look at him, you yelped and involuntarily found yourself back in the hallway outside of the room, your fear strong enough to force you into teleportation.

“Funny seeing you here,” Steve began, and you stalked back into the room, your steps slightly less fearful as you stepped over his discarded tactical gear.

“Steve?” You whispered, setting the knife on a random bookshelf before kneeling down on the floor next to him. You had a plethora of questions, but you couldn’t decide what was the most important. “I- Are… What happened?”

He shrugged weakly.

“Okay, well how badly are you hurt?” You questioned apprehensively.

“Pretty badly,” he responded.

You nodded slowly while you attempted to process the entire situation. You couldn’t tell if this was a scene from your wettest dream, or worst nightmare. “I’ll be right back,” you muttered, leaving the room to grab some water to help you speed up your healing process.

As you reentered your living room, you set down the bowl of water and squatted down next to Steve once again. Dipping your hands in the liquid, and placing them on an open head wound, you found it appropriate to question him.

“Steve,” you began, watching the forehead laceration quickly shrink into a small scar. “Why are you here?”

“I had nowhere else to go,” he put plainly.

“A hospital, maybe?” you added, pushing away the hand that was currently holding down a rather bloody wound on his upper arm, and exchanging it for your own.

“Something tells me that a hospital isn’t the best place for a guy of my legal status to be at right now,” he countered while you halted your attempt to reduce the size of the wound, cracking your stiff knuckles in preparation for the final push of closing the abrasion. “Besides, this isn’t the first time we’ve done something like this before. You remember S-“

“San Francisco. Right,” you cut Steve off, and brushed off the previous comment. “This is gonna hurt a little,” you warned. before setting your fingers down, and putting an obscene amount of pressure on the bicep wound.

Steve grit his teeth so hard that you swore you could hear it. His muscles clenched as you resumed your attempt to soothe the sore.

“Hey, look at me,” you used your free hand, and gently pushed his cheek so that he was looking at you. “If I distract you, it’ll hurt a lot less. Trust me.”

He seemed to agree with you, and took in a deep breath while the corner of his eye twitched.

“How did you even find my apartment?” you asked, using your pinky to tilt his chin up, and force his view away from the cut.

“It wasn’t that hard, I mean, we’ve been tracking you and that ‘financial firm’ you work in for years,” he spoke through clenched teeth.

“You sure it’s not because you like to keep a personal tab on me?”

“No! Why would I…?”

“Because if all the Avengers knew where me and my teammates reside, we’d all be locked up already.”

“Fine, maybe I pulled a few strings. It’s just because I think you’re the biggest threat to the general public.”

“Really? The woman with the least destructive powers of all of us, not the one with super strength? Or the one who could manipulate elements? Or even, I don’t know, the person leading us?” you chuckled a bit at the poor excuse.

Steve rolled his eyes fondly, but you could clearly see the soft flush on his face.

“It’s okay, Steve. We all have our favorite coworkers.”

“We aren’t coworkers, though.”

“It seems like you’re gonna need all the allies that you can come across. Don’t get picky with me now,” you tutted, finalizing your work on his peck, and leaving behind a small, pink scar.

You let out a breath of exhaustion as you pulled your hand away, and pointlessly shook out your wrists.

“You alright?” Steve questioned, adjusting himself a bit on the sofa and grunting at the rather simple task.

“Fine. What else needs attention?”

He gestured to the light bruising on his ribs that only seemed to be getting darker by the moment.

“We should take a break first, though. You seem tired.”

“I told you that I’m perfectly fine,” you countered, setting one hand on your chest, and pointing a lazy finger at Steve, “you’re the one that needs a break.”

Steve grabbed your finger and gently pushed it down, “I don’t really, but maybe we should take a break.” He gave you a kind smile, and your heart fluttered. Even bartered and bloody, Steve managed to make you feel like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Well, any great Captain America plans to get yourself out of this mess?” you leaned against the sofa, and twisted your torso slightly so that you could get a good look at your visitor.

“Nope, not yet,” Steve pursed his lips slightly. “Any input from the lady who seems to get out of every rock and hard place she finds herself in?”

You snickered, and shook your head at this, “not at the moment. But you have me on speed dial, right? I can get back to you when I think of something,” you joked with a wink.

“I would laugh, but I’m honestly a little nervous that my lung might pop if I do.”

“Oh fuck, Steve,” you scooted away from him so you could be closer to the bowl of water once again. “Why did we take a break? You need urgent medical attention.”

“You needed a moment.”

You shook your head and frowned, catching the inside of your bottom lip between your teeth, “don’t do that again.”

You dunked both of your hands in the water, then turned back around and set your damp hands on the bruising on Steve’s ribs, closing your eyes in concentration as you addressed the damage.

Steve howled out in pain, making you flinch as a result. With the hand doing less work, you blindly pat around in a search for something to shove into his mouth and dampen the noises he was currently making. Eventually settling on a blanket, you shoved the fabric deep into his mouth.

“Sorry,” you uttered while the muted noise of his pain rang through your ears, “neighbors.”

The task wasn’t the easiest for you either, healing what seemed like such a large break or fracture following several other injuries was depleting your energy quickly. Your arms and hands trembled as you began to watch the splotchy yellow mark begin to blend into the rest of Steve’s skin, and you were becoming more and more light headed by the second.

Feeling somewhat satisfied with your work, you pulled your shaky hands away, and leaned away from Steve’s body before losing your balance, and falling back onto your plush floor.

Steve yanked the blanket from his mouth, sticking out his tongue for a second as he attempted to pull a spare string from his mouth. He sat up rapidly, and looked down at you with raised brows, and big, frightened eyes.

“Y/N?” he asked breathily, still exhausted from his own exertion, “you still with me?”

Your chest rose and fell slowly, and you were silent for a moment before responding, “I just need a minute.”

Steve relaxed back into the sofa with the knowledge that you were at least still conscious, and waited a few beats before he spoke again, “thanks,” was all that he managed to utter.

The two of you sat there in an extremely loud silence, the only other noise being your nearly synchronized panting.

“I’m gonna go shower,” you announced after what felt like hours on your floor. You slowly rose, and dragged yourself to the bathroom in your bedroom. Hitting the shower valve, then sitting atop your countertop you let the suite fill with steam, reflecting on your bizarre day, but most of all, your interaction with Steve.

You let yourself dwell on this while you stood in the shower, forehead pressed against the warm tile as you considered the implications of every word shared between the two of you, and how you’d let this tiny crush get so far ahead of you. Maybe it really was a good idea to take some time away from New York. You were so deep in your own thoughts that you failed to catch onto the sound of the floorboard that loudly creaked in your living room, or the soft click of your front door opening and closing.

Changing into some more comfortable clothing, you exited the bathroom, and ultimately your own room ready to offer up your shower to Steve, and possibly even talk about your feelings in a serious manner with him. Yet, by the time you arrived at the couch that had held him just a half hour ago, it was vacant. In fact, your whole apartment was vacant. You’d checked three whole times.

Ending your fruitless search on your balcony, you settled down into the single plastic beach chair that you kept outdoors, and draped the blanket from your sofa that had previously been in Steve’s mouth around your shoulders. The chill of the night air contributed to the sting of your eyes when they welled up, and you told yourself that it was silly to ever think that this, you and him, could ever happen in the first place.

Gazing up at the stars, you cursed yourself for being so naive. For letting yourself fall so fast, and so hard for someone you knew so out of reach. The stars seemed to mock you, in all of their billions of years of knowledge.

Yet, part of you was comforted by the knowledge that Steve could be viewing the same constellations as you.

----

a/n: listen. i feel like these idiots have a lot of potential so if you want me to write any more of them i am totally down!