#steven stone the man he is

[audacious-herbaceous]

One of my fav things in ORAS is that Steven is so adorable when he meets Latios/Latias, like he is so giddy with excitement trying to describe it that he just ends up naming his favorite pokemon type and pretty stones he can think of off the top of his head 😂

“This pokemon is so beautiful, here let me just describe it using all my favorite and most beautiful things I can think of” 🥹👉👈 🩵

[leavingautumn13]

presented without context

[acenintendogs]

hello to all wallace fans around the globe👋👋 how we doin

bonus 5 minute originshipping doodle under the cut just for funsies

[tandytoaster]

I just had a realization 👁

Steven is The Rock Guy, thats who he is, that's who he wants to be known as.

Rocks, the things that form in the ground and typically are below us. And! Rocks as in stones that you have to mine for, going deep underground to find them

But he's also lowkey a space guy. Him living in Mossdeep next to the space centre, being relevant in the delta episode of oras with the meteor, having Rayquaza and Deoxys in pokemon masters, the list goes on

So he has some opposite theming going on!!!! From rocks on the ground to outer space high above. DUALITY OF MAN

[aqqleshiqqing-archive]

HELLO I AM FORMALLY INTRODUCING ANOTHER ROMANTIC SILLY WITH A WEDDING EDIT AHAKAKAHAKAKAJA MR AND MRS STONE BABYYYYYY LEZGOOOO

their kid is ruby and nobody will change my mind smh smh

og ref below!

i stitched this screenshot - i feel so proud rn HSHSHAHAHAHAH

[bxrningdragxn]

There's something about imaging Steven Stone with messy hair and eye bags that makes me go feral for that man

[ghostchanuwu]

There is at least 2 different AUs I have where Steven is either partially blind or just full on blind

Full blind is the 'guide person May' AU (she contemplates just putting him on a child leash constantly,only change with May is that she is in her early 20s and just recently became a trainer)

Partially is a ORAS au that I still need to sort out but it's basically a 'events of Emerald happened with Steven and Wallace taking the player's place since May/Brendan aren't trainers yet' Wallace was just barely able to awaken Rayquaza while Steven tried to hold off both Groudon and Kyogre,it resulted in Steven being permanently disabled (missing right eye along with his right arm and leg being rendered unusable) along with the Cave of Origin being completely caved in and roughly a quarter of Sootopolis' crater wall being destroyed (the only surviving member of Steven's team being Metagross while Wallace only still had his Milotic Swampert and Luvdisc from his original team)

[exploding-goobery]

I find it funny about how film academia was all like 'Spielberg's filmography reflects a man with severe daddy issues'

Then the Fablemans came out, and they collectively said 'oh shit'

[sarahghetti]

can you pretend to be my boyfriend?; m.k.

pairing: marc spector x reader, steven grant x reader, jake lockley x reader

summary: the boys pretend to be your boyfriend in order to save you from a creepy stranger.

warnings: inappropriate behaviour towards the reader, female!reader.

moon knight masterlist | all masterlists

steven

you lean over the gift shop counter, eyes wide as you ask, “can you pretend to be my boyfriend?”

poor steven is just confused at first.

“pretend to be��wait, what do you mean—?”

he doesn’t get a chance to finish that thought because the man who’s been trying to flirt with you all day suddenly rounds the corner, and you’re out of time.

“there you are!” a smarmy grin, eyes looking you up and down. it makes your skin crawl. “I was worried that you might’ve left before I could get a chance to talk to you again.”

“yeah, wouldn’t want that, now, would we?” you mutter.

it clicks in steven’s brain then, though not exactly fast enough for him to come up with a retort other than, “right, yeah, right.”

the man’s attention doesn’t waver from you, however, and you squirm on the spot. time for a hail mary, you suppose, turning back to steven. “are we still good for lunch, babe?”

“oh, yes, lunch—right, of course, love,” steven nods, more confident. “I just need to finish up some last things here, if you’re willing to wait a bit?”

you’re ready to say no worries, take all the time you need when the guy scoffs, barely sparing steven a glance. “a sales clerk? really?”

“better than the wet tissue you are, bruv,” steven snaps back, so fast that he surprises himself a little. something simmers under the man’s expression, but steven’s faster. “do I need to call security?”

that finally gets to the guy, who just mutters curses under his breath before finally pissing off. your smile is genuine now when you look at steven. “thanks for that.”

“no worries—are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you nod. “don’t suppose you’re actually free right now, are you? the least I could do is buy you lunch as thanks.”

luckily for the both of you, he is, and he rounds the counter with a wide smile on his face before you lead the two of you out.

marc

he’s just waiting to place his order at a coffee shop when you walk in, some guy hot on your heels and prattling on despite your obvious discomfort.

“oh, hey, babe!” he doesn’t even realize you’re calling out to him until he meets your gaze, and the pleading look in your eyes is all he needs to understand what’s going on. “sorry I’m late.”

“it’s all good.” marc knows the drill, injecting warmth into his smile as he walks up to greet you. he gives you a small nod, letting you know that he’s got your back as he slips his hand into yours. “was worried about you for a minute there.”

“wait, are you two…?” the man looks between you, eyebrows furrowed.

“mhm.” he keeps his tone light, but is secretly watching like a hawk for any signs of escalation. when the guy’s mouth twists into a scowl, marc subtly tugs you behind him.

“you never said you had a boyfriend.” the venom in the words is terrifying, but marc doesn’t flinch.

“no need to cause a scene, man,” he says, tone amicable, but you take a peek at his face and his expression is as hard as stone. “now, if you’ll excuse us.”

marc leads you back into the line to order, squeezing your hand gently to stop you from looking over your shoulder. there’s the heavy stomping of feet before you hear the bell ring over the door as the guy leaves.

the relief is palpable. you finally let go of marc’s hand, face warm as you smile sheepishly at him. “thanks for the help. let me buy you a coffee?”

“don’t worry about it.” he shakes his head, but you offer again and, well, if you insist. he doesn’t mind spending the rest of his afternoon with you at all.

jake

he’s the one to notice your discomfort from across the pub, how you subtly shift away from the man leaning in close to speak directly into your ear.

when you meet his eyes, you mouth, help? and jake doesn’t even think twice before downing the rest of his drink and making his way to your table. he slaps a hand down onto the guy’s shoulder, making him jump. “think you’re in my seat, hombre.”

the man’s greasy smirk twitches, obviously thinking that jake is interrupting his ‘game’ or whatever the fuck. “nah, man, I’m just—”

“trying to hit on my girl, yeah, I can see that.” jake grins at him, but you get the impression that he’s baring his teeth more than anything. he looks to you, and his gaze softens. “you okay, there, baby?”

“better now,” you say, and it’s not a lie.

the guy turns to jake fully, sizing him up. “you think you’re so tough, huh?”

jake doesn’t even blink, just raises a single eyebrow as if daring for him to suggest taking the matter outside. it’s not even a competition, because the man backs off a moment later, angrily slipping out of the booth without looking back.

you don’t breathe until the guy finally leaves the building, at which point a heavy sigh falls from your lips.

“the nerve of that guy,” jake mutters, clicking his tongue.

“right?” you shake your head, then gesture to the now-vacant seat beside you. “care for a drink? I think I owe you after your help back there.”

“you owe me nothing,” he corrects, but slides in beside you anyways, taking your offer with a smile.

[immortalmrwavell]

The Magic Swapping Stone

(Original Story posted July 27th 2021) This story has been Updated!

At 1 o’clock dead on, Dennis heard a loud knock at his studio door. He practically leap out of his desk chair and dashed over to the door. He already knew exactly who was behind the door and he couldn’t have been more pumped. As he swung the door open, there stood Steven, the massive hunk of a man he’d hired for a photo shoot.

Steven was quite a large and stocky man who’d been modelling for about just over a year now. He wore glasses and was proudly bald but to make up for it he had a thick rugged beard which along with his strong manly features made him the picture of masculinity. and that wasn’t even taking into account Steven massive build. Standing at a staggering 6’2 and weighing just over 300 pounds in what was mostly muscle. From the pictures Dennis had seen of him, he also knew the man was rather hairy underneath the tight black t-shirt that was struggling to contain Steven’s pecs.

Dennis was quick to let the model in before briefing him on what exactly they were going to be shooting. Steven already knew he’d be shooting for a men’s magazine as Dennis went in to explain they’d take a few shots in the studio first before going out to do some shots outside as well which Steven seemed happy enough with.

And so they got straight to it. They got on with taking some shots inside the comfort of the studio with Steven doing plenty of different poses that showed off his incredible form. Eventually taking off his tight shirt at the request of Dennis. As soon as he did though Dennis had to try and not stare too much at the man’s large hairy pecs as tempting as they were. Doing his best to remain professional as he took some rather flattering shots of the gorgeous male specimen before him.

After taking some more photos, Dennis decided it was time to move to some of the outdoor locations he’d picked out. Just before they left however, Dennis was sure to send a quick message to his buddy John reading “Now heading your way.” To which John responded with a thumbs up.

It wasn’t long before the two arrived at a train station only a 5 minute walk from the studio. It seemed to be all but deserted save for one man, seemingly in his forties, sitting on a bench in a green t-shirt and black shorts who glanced at them as they stepped onto the station. He seemed normal enough so Steven did pay him much mind.

Dennis informed the stocky model that this was where he wanted to take their next set of photos. Steven glanced around, looking a little confused as to why they’d wanna do a shoot on an old looking train station. Yet he didn’t question it. Dennis was the photographer afterall. He must’ve known what he was doing.

They began taking a few more photos, Dennis moving around Steven as the hulking man took up a few poses as per Dennis’ instruction. However while he was behind Steven and out of the bigger man’s field of vision, Dennis glanced over his shoulder at the man sitting on the bench. He subtly motioned towards Steven to which the man seemed to understand in a wordless exchange of nods. Little did Steven know that the man was actually Dennis’ good friend and the pair of them had a surprise that was gonna scare Steven right out of his own skin… so to speak.

Dennis quickly moved back around to the front of Steven again, taking more photos as inconspicuously as he could. Meanwhile, John stood up before slowly making his way towards the two. Taking small quiet steps as he crept up behind Steven. Dennis on the other continued to take photos, asking Steven to pull his shorts up a little to show off his meaty thighs some more. All the while pretending not to see John stood behind Steven, checking him out like a tasty piece of meat.

It was at this moment that the forty-something year old reached into his pocket and pulled out a small purple glowing orb of sorts. John held it in his hand for a moment, looking at it before looking at Steven, then at Dennis. Dennis nodded.

Steven looked confused for a moment before suddenly, John came up behind him and pressed the glowing orb against his muscular back. Dennis watched as the two men were engulfed in a purple light until eventually…it faded.

“John! Did it work?!” Dennis shouted with nervous excitement.

Steven’s body looked down at himself in bewilderment before looking up at Dennis and grinning. “Oh you better fucking believe it.” He finally answered with a twisted look of joy spreading across his newly stolen face. Already loving the much deeper and gruffer tone to his voice as he spoke.

Those body swapping stones they’d gotten from that creepy magic shop owner had actually worked. John, a chubby forty something year old man had swapped bodies with a massive buff hairy model in his late twenties! It was a miracle!!

John started to feel up his new body almost immediately. Rubbing his hands though the abundance of hair that now coated his stomach before bringing them up to feel through his newfound forest of chest hair. All the while relishing in the feeling of solid muscle where fat used to be. Having a pair of big hairy pecs was everything he’d ever dreamed it would be. And the fun wouldn’t seem to stop there as John’s eyes wandered across his new arms. Scanning over his thick new biceps while taking note of just how large his new hands were. Before he could get any further however, he was interrupted by his former body.

“HEY!! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?! GIVE BACK MY BODY!” the real Steven screamed in a blind panic.

John turned to face the man properly and smirked. “No can do old man, the orb I used to switch us is only good for one use. This is MY body now.” He stated as he brought his arms up into a double bicep pose and flexed them hard. “And I’m loving it already.” John said as Steven looked on mortified at the sight of a stranger piloting his former hairy Goliath of a body. Even starting to learn how to bounce his pecs thanks to the muscle memory. “Fuck yeah! I’ve always wanted to do that.”

During all this neither of them had failed to notice the quickly growing erection in John's white shorts. “I can already feel how huge of a monster this cock is! Way better than my old pathetic one that’s for sure.” John said while rubbing his fattening bulge through the shorts. “I haven’t been this hard in years!”

“HEY!! Stop touching my fucking cock!!” Steven managed to say through all the panic and confusion.

John smirked as he plunged a hand into his shorts and grasped his new pulsing cock. “It’s not your cock anymore. It’s mine! And can’t wait to start jerking it off and shoving it inside some hot dudes!” John taunted as he tugged at his now 8.5 inch cock. “But first we’ve gotta take care of you.” He said taking hand out of his shorts before beginning to stomp over to his former body.

Scared, Steven tried to turn and run but the fat middle aged body he now had was no match for his old body. John quickly caught him before restraining Steven. “Quickly Dennis! Now!” John shouted.

Dennis, who had been watching the exchange between the two men in wonder, dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out a syringe. Steven’s eyes widened with fear as he tried to break free to no avail against his own beefy arms.

Dennis made his way over to the two of them, flicking the tip of the needle on the way. Getting up close and personal, he inspected Steven’s now flabby arm in an attempt to enter the needle safely. But despite his best attempts teven was wriggling far too much for him to get a safe shot. “John, can you get him to stay still?!”

“Well… I think I’ve got one idea that could work.” As John said this, an almost malicious grin began to form on his face. He carefully maneuvered Stevens head while raising up one of his arms until he was finally able to shove Steven’s face into his damp hairy armpit. Suddenly Steven was overwhelmed with the musky smell that used to belong to him. He didn’t know how to react as the sweaty scent permeated his nostrils. Part of him wanted to pull away but he didn’t have the strength as his nose was forced to dig deeper into his former armpit. This left Steven dazed just long enough that Dennis was able to stick him with the needle at last.

“There you go. Just fall asleep in your own musk.” John sniggered while continuing to hold Steven nice and deep in his pit. And slowly but surely Steven lost consciousness, leaving John to catch him before he collapsed.

“He should be out cold for at least an hour or so. Go sit him down on the bench you were sitting on earlier.” Dennis suggested.

And so John did just that, using his incredible new strength to lift his old body and carry it over to the bench. Sitting it down next to a brown bag Steven had brought with him. Inside the bag was some money, car keys, his home address and more so that Steven would at least have somewhere to go when he wakes. The train platform was normally abandoned so they figured he should be fine on his own for now. He wasn’t their problem anymore regardless.

“Alright let’s head back to your studio to pick up my stuff and then go to your place until my new memories kick in.” John couldn’t stop touching himself. Flexing each and every hairy muscle that he could. Groping his biceps. Kneading his pecs. Smacking his thighs. Everything about his new body just felt so euphoric. Not to mention the rush he was still feeling from stealing it.

“Fine but as soon as you’ve got those memories, you’ve gotta help me get MY new body as well remember?” Dennis reminded his now hairy hulk of a friend.

John hummed in agreement as continued flexing. Adoring the sensation of his muscles rippling with pure power when he did. All the while his cocky as still hard as a rock and begging to be let out of its fabric prison. “Fuuuuck. Mind if I take care of this when we get to your place? This giant dick is driving me nuts. As soon as I bust a load I’ll be golden.” He claimed while not being able to help letting his hands wander south to caress his bulge.

Dennis couldn’t stop a small smirk from crossing his face. “Well in that case I suppose I’d better help you drain those bull nuts before you go crazy.” He cooed while taking John’s hand and dragging him in the direction of the studio. Already picturing the idea of having that fat stolen cock stuffed down his throat…

[apomaro-mellow]

Steve’s parents are in a cult and sacrifice him for their own gains. Yall can thank @whoevenknowsdude for giving me the motivation not to give up on this version.

The party was going on as usual. Steve had been to many of them before. The earliest he remembered was being five and led around by his mother’s hand, then eventually being handed off to a nanny for the rest of the evening. It was always some sort of parade. As a young child, he was the cute baby version of his father. Something for the women to coo at.

Around 11 he was a growing lad who was expected to cause a little trouble. Then at 14 he was a young man with a promising future. 

Growing up, there was one part he was always dreading. The point where people tried to set him up with their daughters, or granddaughters, or nieces. He heard pieces of such transactions all the time. 

‘Oh you must meet my daughter.’ 

‘You know Celia is about your age...’ 

‘So have you got a girlfriend?’

Steve caught glimpses of the older boys either politely rebuffing or ending up engaged with someone. This was a very insular crowd, he knew that. Still, he hoped he’d have something resembling a choice when the time came.

And yet, as he got older, no one rushed to introduce him to anyone. It confused him to no end. He had no trouble attracting girls at school and all of his parents’ friends thought he was charming. He came from good stock. Why did no one want him to marry their daughter?

He tried not to feel so offended by it. But it was just so bizarre. 

But back to tonight. It was going like it always did. Steve spent most of it by his parents’ sides, only occasionally going off on his own. He made nice conversation, had a drink or two, despite being nineteen, and kept the Harrington name good and golden.

As the hour got late though, it got to the point where most of the men split off to have cigars. Steve was usually excused at this point but this time his father put a hand on his shoulder and led him to the next room. He took part in more conversation about his prospects (not going to school but who needed to when he was planning on succeeding his father) and drank some brandy.

“Steve, it’s time we discussed your future”, his father said, letting out a puff of cigar smoke.

“What about it...exactly?”, Steve asked.

“That sometimes we must defer to a higher power.”

“....Right...”

“Steven”, one of the other men started. “You ever take one for the team?”

“Yeah, plenty of times. But what are you guys talking about what’s going on?”, Steve asked.

“Come with me, son.”

Steve got up and followed his father. The other men came along down the stairs into the basement of the clubhouse. But then it went deeper.

“History is filled with ambitious figures, Steve. People who did whatever it took to reach their goals. Tonight it’s up to you to take us even higher.”

“Up to me? What do you want me to do?”

They came to the bottom of the stairs. His mother was already waiting, along with the other women. There was a large stone slab with restraints on it and Steve felt his stomach drop at the implication. But he didn’t want to believe it. It was too crazy.

“Mom, Dad...what are we doing here?”

“The higher power we worship will give us fortune beyond what we could dream of”, his father said. “But everything has its price.”

Before Steve could utter another question, he felt hands on him, gripping and pushing him towards the slab. He struggled and screamed for both of his parents. For some kind of explanation. For something that made sense. But he could feel his sanity slipping as they got him on the altar and tied his limbs down.

Lawrence, 50, with an unconvincing hairpiece stood over him. Steve never liked Lawrence. He always looked at him weird and his touches lingered like he was inspecting a piece of meat.

He was doing it now, trailing a hand up his tied up arm.

“I can’t thank you enough for your sacrifice, Steven. And your parents for bringing up such good stock. I have no doubt he will be pleased with you.”

“I don’t know what the fuck is going on but there’s no way you’re going to kill me for-for what? More money?”

His mother came into view, her expression mournful and Steve wanted to vomit.

“Steve, my love, we won’t be killing you. We could never do that. We just need a bit of your blood. After that....well after that....”

“Our lord will do what he wants with you. And with their lot I can only imagine he will want to devour your soul”, his father finished.

“So you are killing me.”

“We won’t be dealing the killing blow”, his father said. “And who is to say you won’t survive?”

Steve took a deep breath through his nose. This was insane. But it seemed like they at least didn’t plan to put a stake through his heart. He’d lose a bit of blood, they’d probably chant, and then when their demon lord didn’t show up, he could get a shower and then maybe disown his parents.

That didn’t make this situation any less shitty though.

Then someone ripped open his jacket and shirt, exposing his chest. Both of his parents were given knives. The knowledge that they didn’t intend to kill him quell that instinctual fear. Steve had always been a good kid. But sometimes good wasn’t enough. Sometimes he wondered if his parents regretted having him. So his current view wasn’t helping at all in that regard.

They both cut a slit right in the center of his palms and he hissed. They then took his blood and drew a symbol on his stomach. 

There was indeed chanting but between the alcohol, his bleeding hands, and the general delirium, Steve couldn’t make it out. God, he just wanted this to be over. He just wanted normal parents who didn’t sacrifice their own son to the devil.  He wanted a lot of things but it seemed like life would disappoint him one last time.

“Whoa! You’ve got a real party going on here”, a voice said, coming down the stairs.

“Who the hell are you?”, one of the chanters demanded.

Steve craned his neck to see....some guy. It was just some guy, in a black tank top and ripped jeans.

“Who? Me?”, he came to the bottom of the steps and looked around. “Was I not summoned? I thought I heard my name.”

“Someone get this fool out of here!”

“Oh, I see what the issue is. I’m not in the proper attire. My bad.” He took a few more steps forward, right into the range of the men who had advanced on him. Then flames erupted from his body, burning them in an instant. When the fire dissipated, Steve let out a gasp and started to actually pull against his restraints.

This was real! Fuck this was real! A real demon with horns and claws and fangs and shit-were those wings?! He had to get out of here, even if that meant ripping his hands and feet off to escape.

Turned out that was the wrong move. In seconds, the demon crossed the room on all fours and climbed atop the slab to hover over Steve.

“My lord”, Steve’s father said in an impressively even tone. “We offer you our greatest sacrifice-” He was cut off with a deep growl, one that Steve felt in his bones, being this close.

“You...haven’t...sacrificed....anything.” The demon turned its gaze to Steve, lying under him. “But you still have so much to give.” He touched a clawed hand to Steve’s stomach where the bloody symbol was. “Will you give it to me?”

Steve let out a breath. He was going to die. He was going to die and what did he have to show for it? Actually....what did he have to show for it if he lived tonight? Maybe it would be painless, this soul sucking. He just wanted to be done.

“Just take it”, Steve said. “Take whatever you want.”

The demon laughed darkly. “I always do.” He smeared a clawed hand against Steve’s torso, messing up what was drawn there. He sniffed his hand and let out a sigh. 

“Steve!”, his mother shrieked and he wondered if she had just realized what she was giving him up for.

“They spilt your blood for their own gains. Now to me, that doesn’t seem fair”, the demon said. “Don’t you think they should have to give something up? Don’t you want them dead?”

Steve dared to look the demon in his face. The eyes betrayed nothing. Just a blank, red void. But there was something about his expression anyway. Something in the quirk of his lip, the tilt of his head. Steve wondered if he actually would kill everyone in this room if he asked. As for himself, well, despite everything Steve couldn’t ask that of him. He really only wanted one thing and this might be his single chance to voice it out loud.

“I just want to be free.”

“Now see here”, Lawrence said, wagging a finger. “We have been your loyal servants. Our wishes-cckhk!”

He was cut off when the demon’s tail wrapped around his neck, dragging him closer. The demon brought him over until they were eye to eye.

“I would go ahead and count the blessings I already have. You all get to live another day.” He dropped Lawrence, ignoring his gasps for breath as he looked back down at Steve. “And you’re coming with me.”

Flames swirled around them but Steve didn’t feel any heat. Just a rush of warm wind as his restraints disappeared. The light got too bright though and he closed his eyes. When he no longer felt the light behind them, he opened them up, expecting the fires of hell, or a dark abyss of a pit. Maybe even some combination of the two.

Instead he found that he was in a….cramped apartment. The demon was back to the tank top and jeans and Steve wondered if someone had slipped something into a drink.

“You live here?”

The demon stuck his hands in his back pockets. “Whenever I come topside, yeah. And for the time being, so do you.”

“Me?”

“Don’t tell me you wanna go back to those assholes. Not after they-” He stopped speaking and his nostrils flared. Then he looked down.

Steve followed his gaze and saw that his hands were dripping blood onto the floor. “Ah, shit, sorry I-” He was about to wipe it on his ruined shirt when the demon grabbed a wrist, freezing him in place. His words were caught in his throat when the demon took a long sniff at the blood still slowly dripping out of his palm. He looked Steve in the eye as he slowly licked it clean. When the blood was gone, Steve saw his hand was completely healed.

The demon took his other hand and did the same, but somehow went even slower. The licks were punctuated with what could have been open mouth kisses but Steve wasn’t sure. Either the demon was making out with his hand or trying to eat him with little success.

When that one was finished, the demon looked at him and Steve was taken with how blown his eyes were. Like Steve’s blood was top shelf.

“B-buy a guy dinner first, huh?”

The demon came back into himself and took a step back, releasing Steve’s hand. “Yeah, sorry it’s just-yeah…” He cleared his throat and then turned, going deeper into the apartment. “So my home is your home, until you figure out exactly what you wanna do. Um, bathroom’s over there I’m sure you wanna get the rest of that blood off.”

He looked almost nervous to have Steve here. And the absurdity of that made Steve let out a chuckle. And then everything came crashing down on him and he started to laugh in earnest. The demon’s anxious stance just made more laughter bubble forth. What the fuck had his life become?

“Are you okay?”

“I just realized why none of them wanted me to date their daughters.” Steve pushed his hair out of his face. “They knew they’d be giving me to you.” As he laughed the tears started to fall. The demon looked even more shocked but then he came over and wrapped his arms around Steve.

“I don’t know why I’m laughing. Or why I’m crying.”

“Because it’s fucked up man. Like hilariously fucked up. And sometimes you gotta laugh about that crap.” The demon pulled away just enough to look Steve in the eye. “But you’re better than what you just left behind. You proved that by letting them live.”

Steve wiped at his eyes. “Well you already burned a couple of them. Wait, you killed them!”

“Collateral damage when I let my flames loose. I don’t like being touched.” He seemed to realize he was doing just that and raised his hands in the air before taking two steps away from Steve.

“I don’t even know your name. And you would’ve actually killed them for me?”

“Oh I go by Eddie nowadays.” He turned and looked like he was trying to make himself busy by picking things up and putting them down.

“Eddie? Just Eddie?”

“Short for Edifice. Um, did you want that shower?”

“I….” Steve still had questions. But he felt barely functioning right now. Like if he got one more bit of information his brain would explode.

“Steve….You’re free now. That was what you asked for.” The demon, no, Eddie, his name was Eddie, was smiling at him.

“I want….to go to sleep.”

Eddie started to walk away and Steve followed. He led him to a room where the bed took up most of the space.

“It’s yours for tonight. And tomorrow, well it’s all up to you now.”

Steve collapsed against the bed. He vaguely registered his shoes being taken off but soon fell into oblivion.

Part 2

[fictionalmenxyn]

¡𝟏𝟎 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐈 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮!

Pt.1 (making it a story…hopefully) (ALSO not movie accurate!!) (will be based in modern time rather than the 90s/00s)

Pairing: Rafe x reader (strangers/enemies to lovers)

(Face claim: Jessica Alba)

Warnings: language, mentions of the word ‘rape’ (due to a part in the book I reference ‘heroes’ if you haven’t read it, I kinda recommend, I read it for my gcse and it was one of the better books I did for English 😭)

-❂❂❂-

It was the beginning of summer, life was great. Even greater for Rafe, new place, fresh start. Moving from California, to Outer Banks was a big change. Well, it was nice for him. He hoped the people… mainly girls… were different from the fake basic girls in Cali.

It was his first day of school, as for you, it was a normal day of school.

You were in your stone grey Toyota gt86, blasting your rock chick music. As the car next to you blasts white chick music. You rolled your eyes at the basic taste of music.

You pulled off as soon as the light hit green. Driving over to the high school.

Once on you had parked up, you got out of the car. Grabbing your tote bag from the back seat you closed both doors and locked your car. Putting your keys into your bag. You adjusted the straps on your shoulder.

Rafe was already there, talking with his ‘tour guide’. The guy, Jake, went through the basics. More specifically the basics of what group of people was what. The ‘jocks’, ‘popular girls’, ‘cowboys’, etc.

That’s when Rafe spotted you from afar. You walked over to your small (preferably) friendship group. Sitting with them on the small brick wall.

Rage’s attention went from you as Jake patted his shoulder and chuckled. Rafe asked “who’s that??” Jake replied “that, my friend, is Y/n Y/l/n… no point in going for her, man.” Rafe’s eyebrow raised “why not??” Jake answered “dude, she’s like got a huge attitude and kinda a bitch…” Rafe scoffed “you probably said something to upset her or some shit, that’s why..” Jake shakes his head “all I’m sayin’ is, watch out for her, man.”

Rafe’s attention was back on you. The way your hair naturally curls, the way your white band tee hugged your chest nicely, the way your long black skirt hugged your curves in all the right places. The way the slight showed just the right amount of thigh that it would be a nice view; but doesn’t dress code you. The way your docs topped off the outfit nicely. Edgy, but modest. You had different style to other girls in the school. And Rafe, for the first time, wasn’t complaining. He never thought he’d be into girls that didn’t wear dresses that practically suffocated them. Or girls that didn’t wear skirts that showed half of your ass. You were different, a good different.

The bell snapped him out of his thoughts. Shit, he has class, he looked over to you one more time to see you walking away with your friends.

-❂❂❂-

You sat in class, the teacher spoke “so? Did anyone even bother to read heroes??”

A girl raised her hand, “yeah, it was so romantic…” you rolled your eyes and remarked “romantic? Larry raped Nicole, so Francis went on a mission. Then it was wasted cause he didn’t even get to complete the mission cause Larry shot himself. Then Nicole and Francis didn’t even reconnect officially… hardly a love story..”

The teacher spoke “thank you, Y/n… didn’t need the summary but thanks…” you crossed your arms and leaned back into the plastic chair “why can’t we read better books by better authors… like Emily Brontë, or George Orwell, even Chuck Palahniuk, maybe even Steven Ki-”

Your teacher spoke “alright, we get it, you say it every time, and I always say..” you mocked “I can’t do a single thing, it’s the school that picks, not me..” your teacher nodded “exa-” the classroom door opens.

Rafe walks in, he gave a small smile “wha’d I miss?” You look over your shoulder. Looking him up and down “discussing the fact this school picks shitty books rather than actual interesting ones…” he smirked when he heard you speak “great.” He left the class.

You looked to your teacher, they spoke “office, now” you place your books in your tote bag and put it over your shoulder. You gave a small smirk to your friends as they subtly cheered for you. As the completely agreed with your argument.

You walked down the hallway, Rafe leaned against the lockers on his phone. As you walked past he looked up, “Y/n… right?”

You turned on your heel and faced him “who’s asking?” He chuckles softly “I’m uh, Rafe… Rafe Cameron…” you nodded “I know, you’re Ward’s son, right??” He raised an eyebrow. How did she know?

You quickly added “my dad is in the same company as the one your father joined. He told me they chatted and mentioned that you’d be joining here…” he nodded “oh right… yeah, uh where you headin’?”

“The office, once again, the English teacher never likes me.” He chuckled as he walked over to her “why’s that? You smarter than her?” You shrug “wouldn’t say smart, I just have good taste in book unlike her or the school…” he nodded. Shoving his hands in the pockets of his slacks “so… mind if I walk with you?” You shook your head “I don’t mind. I wasn’t going to the principals office anyways..” he smirked “bad girl, huh?” You playfully rolled your eyes “more like, the principal is fed up of me going to her office… so here I am, roaming the halls for the next…” you look at your watch “..ten minutes”

He nods, you walk side by side. Rafe didn’t know what he was feeling. He wasn’t intimidated but felt almost shy. He couldn’t describe it, you look the type to rip people’s head off if they bark back at you. But honestly… that was hot in his eyes.

-❂❂❂-

It was currently lunch, you sat on the bleachers with your friends. Eating lunch and talking about anything and everything.

Rafe sat with Jake and a few of Jake’s friends. Rafe clicked almost instantly with Topper and Kelce. They’re both interested in golf, partying, girls, etc. So naturally they clicked.

Rafe would glance over to you from time to time. Topper chuckled “hey, if you keep lookin’ she’s gonna see, dude” Rafe rolled his eyes “fine with me.” The guys chuckled.

Kelce asked “hey Top, Y/n friends with your sister, right??” Topper nodded then sipped his can of Pepsi. Rafe looked to Topper, “wait seriously??” Topper put tossed his can in the trash “yeah, dude, she’s over my place quite a lot.”

Rafe’s ears perked, over Topper’s place quite a lot?? Damn…

He then looked back over to the group to see his sister, Sarah, walk over and sit with them. He watched as Sarah and you talked and laughed. He thinks to himself ‘if she’s friends with Sarah, that means she might come over our place? Oh. My. God’

-❂❂❂-

It was an hour or two after school, you sat on the couch. Your Marshall headphones resting on your head as you listen to music and read.

You hear footsteps approaching, it was your father. He holds an envelope to you. You pulled your headphone down, resting them around your neck. You opened the envelope and gasped “no way!” Your dad asked “what is it??” You answered “I got in! The art and music college we talked about! I got in!” He smiled “really?! Congrats, sweetie!”

Your younger sister (who’s completely opposite to you, full glam and girly, made you wanna gag) came downstairs is a slightly shorter than usual dress. Your father asked “and where are you going??”

Your sister, Gabs, replied “there’s this boy, his name is Brooks” you rolled your eyes “you mean the not so good looking guy who is a huge idiot??” “Shut up!!” Your sister looks back to your dad “he asked to go to the movies, go I pleaseee go daddy?” Your dad shakes his head “absolutely not, you know the rule. No dating till you graduate” Gabs rolls her eyes “please!” He replied “no, end of discussion.”

Gabs argued “this isn’t fair, Y/n gets to go out but I can’t??” You fake laughed “good one, Gabs.” Your father added “same rule applies to her.” You looked over to Gabs “and by the way, I’m not looking for anyone, not interested in a single soul…”

Gabs huffed, your father walks away. You crossed your legs on the couch and rested your now closed book in your lap. “So, where were you actually going? I assume you just lied to dad…” Gabs whispered “a party…” you lightly scoffed “you know you’re too young for those parties, especially with Brooks..” Gabs rolls her eyes “I’m only two years younger than you, quit it.”

Your father re-enters, “new deal, Gabs can have a date-” Gabs squealed and smiled. Your dad added “-if Y/n gets a date.” Gabs smiled drops. “What?! She won’t date! Daddy this is unfair!”

You grabbed your book and stood up, heading over to the stairs. Your sister complained “daddy! She won’t date at all, she’ll be buried and not have a date! C’mon!” You chuckled “good, I’ll keep it that way.” Gabs stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at you “you’re so selfish, you know that?!” You chuckled and walked down the hallway upstairs and to your room. Gabs huffed in annoyance.

If you date, Gabs can date. But you don’t wanna date anyone, do you? Not now, not ever… maybe that can change… maybe it’ll stay the same… who knows…

-❂❂❂-

[aqqleshiqqing-archive]

ever since I stopped posting here i finished bw and bw2 completely (it was fuckin fantastic) but i had more plans.

I FOUND YOUYUUYYYUYUUUIYYYUUUYYIO‼️‼️‼️‼️ U AND YOUR GOOFY ASS SPRITE HELLOOOOOO

[bxrningdragxn]

What if Steven had a guest room in his home for when friends come to visit but one day he discovers Brendan/May isn't really treated well at home so he turns the guest room into a bedroom for the kid (like decorates it and stuff) and lets them stay whenever they feel like it

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

snowflakes dancing on the wind

the wistful wyvern, chapter one

a/n: this series is the second instalment i my eflorr trilogy. if you haven't already read fused with the foe, then i'd highly recommend reading that first so that you know what's going on.

summary: three years where you’d sworn off love entirely, tried to interpret it as a good thing, a gift really. You could be more productive, more focused. But now that you were home again, hearing the molasses tone of his voice and seeing the beads of sweat slowly rolling down the landscape of his body, over the ink that crawled up his left arm, you knew three years wasn’t enough to mend your heart. The rest of your life probably wasn’t long enough either. 

warnings: knight!bucky barnes x knight!reader, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, ex-friends to lovers, coworkers to lovers, former fuckboy!bucky, tattooed!bucky, slow burn, one-sided pinning, flashbacks, alcohol consumption, kissing, dragon attack, childbirth (with very ronja rövardotter timing), blood, weapons, violence, crying

word count: 4296

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TEN YEARS AGO, ON THE THIRTY-SEVENTH DAY OF WINTER 848 PR

A biting chill swirled through the echoing halls of Yoslor Penitentiary that noon when two gruff guards yanked you from your cell and dragged you to the far side wing of the prison. 

Passing countless doors, at last, they arrived at one with someone already on patrol on the outside. As a rusty key twisted in the lock with a reverberating click, the guard, still barely letting your feet skim the dirty floor, practically shoved you inside the chamber. 

As they threw you down into a cold chair and yanked at your chains to fasten them in a strong loop smelted into the stone floor by your feet, a voice suddenly caught your ears and caused your squinting eyes to flicker up. 

“Easy, boys! No need to drag her by the scruff of her neck as if she were a cat and not an eighteen-year-old girl,” you noticed the man already seated on the opposite side of the table, “would you please uncuff her?” he requested with an outstretched hand, a command, to your surprise, the guards obeyed, “thank you,” he leaned back in his seat as the manacles fell from your sore wrists. 

Rubbing the angry marks wrapped around your joints, a shiver ran through you as you saw the cloud of your exhale clear in the air. 

When the guards had settled on either side of the exit behind you, the blonde stranger opposing you tilted his head and asked, “do you know who I am?” 

“Should I know who you are?” your gaze lifted from your wrists and met his, “look man,” you sighed heavily, “if I at some point stole something from you, I don’t have it anymore. I don’t really have much of anything anymore in here,” a short and dry chuckle tied a bow on your statement. 

With his stare never straying, his chin then tilted slightly as he said, “I am Steven Grant Rogers, crown prince of Eflorr,” his title rolled off his tongue with such ease as if it didn’t have any merit at all, “and you’re Y/n Y/l/n, daughter of the famed One-eyed Ollie,” he rested his forearms against the table’s edge, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Blinking back at the royal, your brows furrowed softly at the mystery of why a man such as him would pay someone like you the time of day, “…alright, uh, sure.”

“We’ve kept an eye on you for a very long time, long before your father slipped away and made you take the fall for the break-in at the Sulmier estate,” your jaw couldn’t help but clench at the memory, “you’re very talented.”

“Yeah, can you just hurry up and tell me what you want?” you grunted as your knee tensely bounced beneath the table, “they’re serving soup today for supper and I’d rather not miss it.”

Huffing out what seemed like an amused breath, the prince glanced down a moment as he announced, “I have a proposition for you,” he met your gaze once more, “either you can pay for your father’s crimes here in prison or you can come work for me,” he offered slowly, “twenty years either way, but in here you will be treated as, well, essentially an animal,” his eyes briefly flicked around the cold chamber, “whereas with me you will be just as any other warden. You will have the same rights, the same opportunities, maybe even a home by the end of it.”

“…you wanna give me a job?” you squinted back at him. 

To which he simply nodded, “yes.” 

“Me?” your eyebrows only seemed to knit together tighter. 

“Like I said, you’re very talented. I could use someone of your skillset,” he then leaned back in his seat, “so, I’ll give you some time to decide,” he clasped his hands together in his lap, “if you don’t show up at Fort Borün before all the snow has melted, then let’s just say that you wouldn’t be able to get very far with the bounty there’ll be on your head.”

The heavy ivory pelts that made up your cloak billowed around your frame as the piercing wind whirled it around. You had to lean forward a bit to even make any headway in the howling blizzard that coursed around you. Icy snowflakes struck the upper part of your features that the tugged-up scarf didn’t cover. 

Squinting in the snowstorm as you crested the hill and walked under the archway, you glanced above and spotted icicles hanging from the drawn-up portcullis. 

As you glanced around the courtyard and the snow-dusted castle looming in the background, your feet soon carried you over towards a pair of bundled-up wardens posted outside a door. 

“Excuse me,” you interrupted the lewd joke one of them was halfway through telling, “could any of you–” 

But it wasn’t till the soldier to the right jumped and yelped, “ah, by Apa!” that it occurred to you just how camouflaged your frosty visage had been in the blizzard.

“Holy fuck!” the other one clutched his heart after nearly drawing the crossbow strapped to his back.

“Oh gods, sorry. Thought you were a snowman some fucking pixies had put a curse on,” the first knight, whose head was warmed by a thick knitted cap, steadied his breathing with a short laugh, “what do you need?”

Glancing between them, you asked, “could you point me in the direction of Master Tully’s office?”

“Ah,” the beanie-wearing warden nodded, “you’re a new recruit?”

Stifling a laugh, you tilted your head and huffed, “you could say that.” 

“I’ll show you,” the dark-haired one gestured, “come with me.”

“Thanks,” you offered him a small smile as he then held the door behind them open for you to enter first. 

The dining hall of the bustling barracks that you entered nearly gave you whiplash with the warm contrast it had to the freezing environment you’d just been trudging through for weeks. The fireplace down on the far wall warmed the interior and lit up the faces of the soldiers halfway through their meals. 

As you pulled back your snow-dusted hood and tugged your frosty scarf down to expose your nose and mouth, your palm attempted to brush some of the flakes off of you. 

“He’s right over there,” your guide pointed to the balding man sitting alone at a table in the corner of the chamber, before he disappeared from your side and joined some comrades on a long bench, sneakily stealing a chunk of bread from one of their bowls. 

Slowly stepping closer to the older man, hunched over some parchments as he dipped and softened a crusty piece of bread in his stew, you carefully croaked, “master Tully?”

“Aye?” he lifted his gaze to find you. 

“Hi, I was told to come talk to you,” you stepped closer and reached out your hand, “I’m Y/n, I don’t know if you–”

“Ah, yes, Y/n! Great to have you on board, lass,” his gruff hand swiftly gave yours a shake, “you must be tired after that long journey, so why don’t you grab a bowl,” he briefly pointed to the humble buffet off to the side, “have a wee rest, and then we’ll sit down and discuss everything after that, yeah?”

Offering him a light nod, you agreed, “sounds good, sir.” 

As you wandered over to fill up a bowl, Tully waved over the warden who’d shown you the way. 

“Barnes?” 

Swiftly, the soldier rose from his seat, “yes, sir?”

“Go show Y/n her quarters,” Tully returned his attention towards his stew. 

Barnes’ dark brows then knitted together, “who’s Y/n?” to which his commander simply pointed with the hand still clutching a chunk of bread, “oh…” the warden’s glance followed the trail, “right…” before raising his voice to catch your ears, “oi, snow!” you didn’t turn around even as he neared, “hey!”

Dragging the curve of a spoon from your lips when you finally noticed his stare, you finally perked up, “who, me?” and pointed to yourself. 

“Yeah you,” he didn’t slow down as he gestured for you to shadow him, “come.”

“Oh, uh,” with the bowl of stew still in your gasp, you tried not to spill as you scurried to keep up, “my name is actually Y/n,” you corrected him.

Halting his step momentarily, he turned and reached out an inked hand for you to shake, “Bucky,” a small smirk tugged at his lips as your eyes finally got the chance to wash over his visage now that his striking features weren’t veiled by a blizzard, “welcome aboard, snow.”

PRESENT DAY

You felt like somehow you should have predicted that this would be your welcome home greeting. That this striking heartbreak could have somehow been prevented if you’d only remembered when training was usually held. 

It was just rubbing salt into the wound you’d been trying so fiercely to mend. Yet, it was still there, open and festering, bleeding till you nearly passed out. You couldn’t start doing that again, purposely seeking out the salt just to feel something, just to for a single second feel good before reality settled in again. Perhaps your timing had been on purpose, perhaps your subconscious had just been so strong that it had forced you to return home right at the time that practice was held in the middle of the courtyard, and none other than Bucky stood in the centre, shirtless and glistening with sweat, as he ran the newcomers through a drill, sparring with each and every one of them till they yielded. 

You tried to get your feet to move again, you truly did, but you couldn’t keep walking past, couldn’t look away, could barely even breathe as he moved like water through the trainees.

But then suddenly, as your fiddling fingers had found the long, braided leather cord wrapped nearly a dozen times around your wrist to form a bracelet, the playful comment that left Bucky’s lips to egg the recruits on fell short, as his ocean eyes flickered up to find you, only worsening the bittersweet agony you were in.

THREE YEARS AGO, ON THE SEVENTY-SECOND DAY OF AUTUMN 855 PR

“Oh, wow,” Bucky swiftly lowered his goblet from his lips and exclaimed as his stare found you, right as you passed over the threshold and entered the bustling ballroom, “holy shit.”

Closing the short distance between you as he was standing off to the side, your skin prickled at his alarm, “what?”

“No, just–, you’re in a dress,” his gaze danced across the emerald silk draped around your form, the fabric’s shade made you stand out amidst all of the warm harvest fest decorations, “never thought I’d see the day…”

“Well, they aren’t really that practical in our line of work, so–” 

“Oh, I beg to differ…” he smirked, taking a sip of wine which by the looks of it was in no way his first cup, “I think you should always be dressed like this…” slowly stepping closer, his stare continued to lick you up in a way it never had before, “especially with a neckline as low cut as that,” as his eyes brashly dipped to your cleavage, your hand couldn’t help but shoot up to tug it up a bit more, a nervous instinct that only conjured a deep chuckle within his chest, “happy harvest fest to me.”

With cheeks burning hotter than the sun, you coughed out, “you–, uh, you look good as well.” 

“Oh, yeah?” he cheekily cocked a brow and leaned in a bit closer, causing your spine to press up against the wall behind you, “how good?” 

As your heart fluttered and nearly flew out of your chest, you heard yourself sputter, “oh, well, I mean, you always look good, you just–, uh…” your words then poofed away into nothing as he nonchalantly tugged a stray piece of hair behind your ear and let his touch linger on your heated cheek, “uhm…” 

“I just what, snow?” he purred, and you swore you saw his gaze flicker down to your lips. 

“You–… you–…” 

But before your wildest dreams could come true, an individual accidentally bumped into Bucky and lodged him far enough away from you to snuff out your hopes of the taste of his lips. 

“Wow,” the guy briefly clapped Bucky’s wide shoulder, “sorry, mate.”

“It’s alright,” he smiled as the fella went on his way. Raising up his goblet for another sip, he then turned his attention back to you, “so,” his grin was still bright on his features, “you gonna let me dance with you tonight?” 

“Dance?” your eyes grew wide, “oh, y-yeah,” you tried your best, though still failed to sound casual, “sure, if you want to.”

“Great,” he held your gaze a moment longer before saying, “I’m gonna go grab another drink, you want anything?” 

“No thanks, I’m good,” though there was now a decent enough distance betwixt you two, you still stood virtually plastered against the wall. 

“Alright,” he breathed as he began to back up, offering your gown one last glance before he disappeared, “that dress…” his head gently shook from side to side as a long exhale flowed from his lungs, “gods, you look way too hot tonight, it’s not fair.”

When his visage was no longer in sight, you slumped down a bit and took a generous breather, the grin on your face nearly making your cheeks ache. 

After your pulse had settled back from the nervous butterfly he had transformed it into, a fellow warden spotted you and shouted. 

“Hey, Y/n!” he waved for you to come over and join the little cluster he was on the edge of, “you’re still here! I thought you’d left already with lord fancy pants or whatever.”

“Lord Witherington, and yeah, it’s first in the morning that the ship leaves port,” you walked up to him. 

“Well, at least you get to enjoy one last harvest fest extravaganza before becoming a babysitter.”

“Hey, he is doing important research up in Efira, in areas that haven’t been explored since Rimesunder’s demise,” you raised a slightly defensive hand as you noted the historical significance, “it’s an honour to protect him.”

“Yeah, yeah, honour and all that crap,” he sighed light-heartedly as he raised his mug up to his lips, “but you still have time to get seriously fucked up tonight.”

“So that I can be both seasick and hungover tomorrow?”

“So that you can for once cut loose and have one last fun night before you leave!” 

Marinating on his point a moment, your thoughts couldn’t help but float away to Bucky. 

What if tonight was the night? What if you just finally took the leap and told him how you felt? 

Then, like a clock arm clicking into the new hour, you made your decision. 

“Give me that,” you grabbed the drink out of his hands before he could take another sip. 

“Wow, that’s what I’m talking about,” the soldier cheered as you swiftly downed the strong brew, “yeah!”

“Gods,” your face screwed up when you swallowed the last gulp, “that’s disgusting. What is that?”

“My uncle’s mead.”

“Urgh,” the sickly sweet taste burned on your tongue. 

“Yeah, he’s not that good at it,” he accepted the mug as you passed it back in his grasp, “but it’ll sure get you pissed in two sips or less.”

Hoping that the half tankard you’d downed would grant you the courage you sought, you glanced around the ballroom, “I gotta–, uh, did you see where Buck went?” and when he then pointed out towards the main hallway, you offered him a small smile, “thanks,” before disappearing down that way. 

You felt like you were gonna be sick as you walked through the crowds. But if it was from the nerves or the mead that was already making you dizzy, that you weren’t sure of. 

As you searched the castle, carefully poking your head into drawing rooms and narrow hallways, you found yourself anxiously muttering just beneath your breath. 

“…I just thought you should know that I like you–, no, not like that…” you shook your head at your tongue-tied attempt at figuring out how you’d profess to him, “James, I have been in love with you since the day I met yo­u–, no, that’s stupid, I never call him James, that would just be weird–” 

Your murmuring then hushed as you turned down a secluded hallway and spotted the very warden that you had combed the palace for, down towards the end of it. 

The only thing was, he wasn’t alone.

Sliding deeper into the shadows, you couldn’t spare yourself the heartache and not look. 

Bucky’s lips were attached to the long neck of some leggy blonde. Her quiet whimpers echoed against the fortress walls as he felt her up and surely littered her skin with heated lavender marks. 

Suddenly, they shifted, turning till Bucky’s back was pressed up against the walls and, to your surprise, now no longer obscured by his bulky physique, another lady, a redhead, appeared beside the hickey-adored one. 

“So,” the redhead bit her lip as she slid her palm down to pet the palpable tent in his pants, “are you gonna show us to your chambers or what?”

“Yes,” he breathlessly nodded, “yes I am,” before seizing their hands, “right this way,” they then stumbled further down the dark hallway till they disappeared from your sight, leaving you frozen in the engulfing shadows with tears silently streaming down your face. 

PRESENT DAY

“Snow?” his eyes grew as wide as his grin, “gods, it is you!” Bucky then all but forgot about the training session he was in the middle of teaching and crossed the courtyard, “it’s really you!” once his brisk stride reached you, he plucked you up into his brawny arms and spun you around, “you’re back!” 

As soon as your feet touched the ground again, you took a large step back, though hated how the distance gave you a better view of his naked torso.

“Hi, Bucky,” you uttered, readjusting the bag strung over your back. 

Why did his touch still have to make your heart flutter? 

“Three years,” he placed a wide palm on your shoulder, “three fucking years!”

Three years where you’d sworn off love entirely, tried to interpret it as a good thing, a gift really. You could be more productive, more focused. But now that you were home again, hearing the molasses tone of his voice and seeing the beads of sweat slowly rolling down the landscape of his body, over the ink that crawled up his left arm, you knew three years wasn’t enough to mend your heart. The rest of your life probably wasn’t long enough either. 

“Yeah, you–, uh,” you swallowed the thickness of emotions that peeked through in your tone, “you grew a beard.” 

“And you still look exactly the same…” his gaze washed over you as a soft sigh flowed from his lungs, “gods, I’ve missed you,” he then tilted his head and asked, “you missed me?”

“I–,” blinking back into the stormy sea of his eyes, you felt your frame begin to tremble at the feelings that were still as alive as ever, “uhm…” averting your gaze, you had to get away before everything burst, “I need to go report to the king,”

“Oh, yeah, right,” his electric touch slid from your shoulder, “last I saw, he and the queen were in the blue drawing room. You haven't met her yet! She’s kind, you’ll like her.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” you refused to look back at him as you turned towards the main entrance to the castle. 

And as you began to walk away, you heard his voice call after you, “really is good to have you back, snow!”

Nearly ripping the door off its hinges, a fleeting gasp escaped you as you saw the queen by the open window, shooting arrows after the beast that whirled outside. 

“Your majesty,” you exclaimed as your eyes briefly flickered to her pregnant belly, “there you are!” you then swiftly crossed the room to yank open the small servant’s door, “this way!” 

Reluctantly, the royal stepped back from the window, smoke and ash gushing into the castle from the opening, and followed you up the revealed stone spiral staircase. 

As you rushed up the tower, your glances didn’t just dart back to the queen, only a few paces behind you, but every time you passed one of the narrow windows, your vision couldn’t help but catch the chaos down below.

The stubborn dragon, that had plagued the town of Borün for two whole years now, had returned. 

With daggers still tight in your grasp, you tried not to think about the people you knew to be down there in the fray, wonder if they had all been burned to a crisp, but instead attempted to shake it off and focus on your mission at hand. The king had commanded you to flee the fight and protect his wife and unborn child. 

A glint of fire reflected in the queen’s eyes as you glanced back at her to find her pace halted and her palm clutched on her stomach as she stifled a groan. 

“My queen,” you dropped back down a step closer to her, “are you–”

“I’m fine,” she waved you off and drew in a shaky breath, “keep going, I’m right behind you.”

Soon at the top of the tower, you pushed the door open and held it for the noble to enter, your glance though darting out the window as she passed. 

But when a low groan seeped from her throat, your gaze darted back to her with worry, “alright, that really doesn’t sound that good,” the door slammed behind you as you sheathed your weapons and stepped closer to her, “did you get hurt?”

“No, I’m–, ah! I’m alright,” she uttered through gritted teeth, her eyes squeezed shut as one hand reached out for the wall while the other stayed on her belly, “fuck…” 

Glancing down towards her hand as it rubbed in slow, soothing circles, your eyes then widened, “are you–… your majesty, a-are you–”

“In labour?” her eyes barely opened as she met your tense gaze, “yeah. My waters broke a while ago.”

“Oh gods!” now you truly wished you’d just stayed down with the dragon, “now? Here? I–, I–, wha–, can’t you just turn it off?”

Letting both her quiver and bow slide off her frame and drop to the floor, she let out a strained exhale, “not really how it works.” 

“I–, I–, okay, I don’t know what to do–”

“That’s fine,” her arm then reached out for your support, “I do,” you carefully helped her further into the chamber before she sank down a wall till she was seated on the floor, her pale yellow gown bunching around her legs, “alright, I’m gonna need one of your knives when its time to cut the umbilical cord.”

“O-okay,” eyes still wide, you checked your belt just in case they’d mysteriously disappeared in your panic. 

Noticing the terrified expression on your face, the queen’s head tilted slightly as she said, “Y/l/n, please don’t pass out on me, I need you here with me.”

“No, no, I’m not gonna pass out,” you rushed to reply, though weren’t completely convinced yourself, “I just–, w-what do I do? Do I do anything?”

Raising up her fingers, she panted, “take my hand.”

“Alright, yes, of course,” you swiftly grabbed her palm. 

You had no idea how much time passed, if your hand would eventually fall off for how hard she was squeezing it, or even how many times the royal’s groans, which threatened to morph into screams, reverberated off the palace walls and mixed with the chaos rumbling from outside. 

Then suddenly, an echo shot through the castle, “dove!” and though she couldn’t find it in her to yell back, the familiar voice visibly thawed something within the queen. 

“Up here!” you yelled as loudly as you could. 

Swiftly, the door was kicked down, and in stormed a honey-haired man, whose bloodstained shield and stout axe promptly dropped to the floor with a loud clang. 

“Steve!” the queen cried out through the relieved smile that softened her pained expression, “you’re here!”

“Yeah,” he looked as if a feather could have knocked him over, “I’m here, I’m here,” the king then rushed to switch places with you, kneeling beside his wife and clutching her hand in both of his, “what fucking timing our daughter has,” a soft chuckle bubbled out of him as he bought the back of her palm up to his lips and planted a chased peck upon it, “not even born yet and she already wants to join the fray,” he uttered, conjuring a slight laugh to crack through her pain, “a real fighter, just like her mom.”

Gazing up at him, a sombreness suddenly washed over her features as she then murmured, “my love, if I don’t–”

“No,” he swiftly cut her off, “that’s not gonna happen, you hear me? History won’t repeat itself, you’ve done everything in your power to make that so. You can do this, dove. I know you can.” 

He held her hand through it all, took the sting as each one of her nails broke his skin and every ear-piercing curse she threw at him, till a new life was suddenly in the room, laying against the exposed skin on her mother’s chest and wailing about the sudden change in scenery.

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

I keep going to the river to pray

Written for the March pop-up challenge of the @steddieholidaydrabbles

Prompt: spring

Rated: M

Tags: Italian Steve Harrington; naiad Eddie Munson; past lives

CW: child molestation (not from MC); nudity; fade to black sex

Notes: Moooom, hype is turning the blorbos into water creatures again!

Steve is five years old and the water whispers to him. 

“Steven, come back inside,” Mom scolds and yanks sharply on his hand. “Nonna told you the woods are off limits. The water is too dangerous. Heavens, I can't leave you alone for two seconds, can I?” 

Steve wants to cry. To thrash and kick and scream at the injustice of it all.

Because she is leaving him alone. All alone in this strange country where there's nothing fun to do and where nobody speaks his language, for an entire summer. How's he even supposed to listen to Nonna when he doesn’t understand her half the time? 

The only place where he finds comfort is the spring. The little pond with its crystal waters surrounded by crumpled pillars. He doesn’t know why, just knows there's something here that calls to him. 

Mom doesn't understand, and Steve is too small to fight as she drags him away. Something splashes behind them, like a large stone sinking underwater, but by the time he turns, all he can see is ripples on the surface. 

He doesn’t know why he says it, because there's nobody here. Nobody he can see. It feels like the right thing to do, though. 

“Don't worry,” he whispers to the water. “I'll be back, promise.” 

The water whispers back. 

*

Steve is thirteen and a man follows him into the woods. He's been lurking in corners and doorways in the village all day, smiling, staring, speaking saccharine words in broken English. 

Pretty boy, sweet boy, come here. 

By the time Steve notices he's trailing behind him on the lonely road in the fading daylight, it's too late to cry for help. He ducks into the shelter of the trees without thinking, not looking back when he hears the man give chase. Darkness is falling around him, but he doesn’t need to see. 

All he needs to do is follow the pull. 

The spring reflects the moon and stars, silver waves bouncing off the trees and pillars. 

“Help me,” Steve whispers, just as a hand grabs his wrist and spins him around. 

The man's face is a mask of primal hunger. His eyes glint, dark and unblinking- 

-and then they catch on something behind Steve's back and bulge. All the color drains from his face. He stumbles back, releasing Steve’s wrist, muttering a word in Italian that he doesn’t understand. Then, he turns and runs. 

Steve stares after him, heartbeat roaring in his ears. By the time he remembers to look behind him, there's nobody there. The spring lies silent in the starlight, but the water isn't smooth anymore. A circle of ripples is spreading, not far from where he's standing, waves lapping against the shore. Steve imagines he sees something slipping out of sight in the water, like dark tendrils of seaweed. Then he blinks and it's gone. 

Steve smiles.

“Thank you,” he murmurs softly. 

*

The water murmurs back. 

Steve is eighteen and everything is bullshit. He perches on a fallen pillar, toes dangling in the water, watching the sunset behind the trees, and feels sorry for himself. 

He can't protect his heart from being broken, can't get into college, can't even get his parents to love him. They probably believe they're punishing him by sending him back here, he thinks with a laugh. Idiots. They know nothing about him, nothing about the pull he feels towards this place. He's been feeling it more and more lately, even with an entire ocean between them. 

“Have you finally come to stay, sweetling?” 

Steve doesn’t startle. Simply blinks back from his thoughts and lowers his gaze, like it's always been the two of them out here. Maybe that’s true. 

“You're not scared,” the boy from the spring observes. His head is poking out of the water between Steve’s legs, long dark hair brushing his ankles. He's naked under the water, skin pale and smooth as marble. “Do you not fear me?” 

“Why would I? You've never given me reason to.” 

The language that slips from his lips is strange. Not English. Something closer to the butchered Italian he's picked up over the years. He frowns, briefly, but the boy's lips - pink and full and glistening with tiny droplets - curl into a smile and he forgets to wonder about it.

“Clever child.” Long fingers curl around Steve's calves, sliding up his legs. “I'd never harm what's mine.” 

The fingers slip under the hem of Steve's shorts, gracing his inner thigh, and he gasps. 

“Yours?” 

The boy hums, pulling himself from the water a little, so that his shoulders emerge. His hair is a dark, tangled halo around his pretty face. It tickles Steve’s skin as the boy noses along the inside of his knee.

“Yes, mine. You feel it, do you not? The pull.” 

Steve nods breathlessly and the boy smiles against the soft flesh of his thigh. 

“Of course you do, sweetling. It has been forever since I met someone as responsive, but you? You remember, don't you?” 

Steve pauses. Is that what pulls him here? Memories of a time he shouldn’t recall? Of a place far more splendid than the crumbling ruins around them, a place filled with song and laughter and the strange but familiar language that keeps tumbling from his mouth? 

The boy - the god - watches the shift in his face and smiles. Nimble hands settle on his hips, pulling him closer, and Steve slings his arms around slender shoulders as the pillar slips out from under him. 

His god's eyes are bright as he walks them to the middle of the pond. 

“It has been so long, sweetling, and I hunger for worship. Will you give yourself to me again?” 

“I do not need to,” Steve smiles as he is slowly lowered into the cool waters. “You've always had me.” 

His god smiles and pulls him in, and Steve sighs against those beautiful lips. 

The water welcomes him home. 

In Roman mythology, naiads (better known under the name of their Greek counterparts, nymphs) are nature spirits most commonly associated with water, guarding rivers, springs and the like. Some were worshipped as local deities, with shrines built in their honor.