#I don't reiterate this in the fic to my memory

[cardhamine]

There's gonna be a new Breached chapter up tonight! So here are the girls' outfits, since it's of minor importance we know how they're dressed.

Edit - I forgot Blondie's freckles initially.. RIP

[corrodedcorpses]

Boys on Film. Part iv

Pairing: PS!Steve x PS!Eddie x Virgin!reader

Summary: It's been a year since you last saw Eddie and Steve. The last place you expected to see them again for the first time was at a club while you were out with your new boyfriend. The night does not go how you imagined it at all.

Warnings: Smut (18+ MDNI), public sex (ish), fingering, angst, cheating (sorry)

Word count: 6.8K

a/n: I hope this kind of makes up for the ending of the last chapter but also I'm sorry in advance. (also as always a massive thank yous to my babies @andvys @wroteclassicaly @usedtobecooler @bimbobaggins69 for all of your help I love you all so much)

Taglist is closed but if you want an update on when I post the next chapter you can follow my fic account @corrodedcorpsesfics and turn on notifications🖤

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4.5

Steve and Eddie stare at your closed door that had just been slammed in their face moments ago. It had all gone so wrong, so fast. Neither of them had meant for it to go that way or to fight like that with you. All of their (and your own) long harboured emotions coming out during the fight, all of the love turning into hate in order to protect your hearts from - what you all assumed - would no doubt be rejection. 

Eddie is the first to break eye contact with your door. Scoffing and walking toward his van as Steve leans his head on the door, closing his eyes trying to will you to open it again. He’s almost sure he can hear tiny sobs coming from the other side and it feels like his heart is breaking all over again. 

He can hear Eddie behind him, pacing and grumbling out “shit”, “fuck” and mumbling “that was so stupid” over and over again. Steve is frozen in place, he knows as soon as he breaks away from your door that it’s all over, that he’ll have to face the reality of what just happened. He doesn’t know if he can do that yet. 

A loud smack, that was obviously Eddie’s palm hitting his car, finally jolts Steve out of his self pity. He finally turns to him, watching as Eddie continues to pace and mumble expletives under his breath, his ringed fingers running through his hair with so much force Steve thinks he’s about to rip it all out. 

“Eddie,” he tries, too quietly as the other man doesn’t stop. 

He glances at your door one more time before sighing and walking up to Eddie. 

“Eddie,” he says more firmly, standing next to where he continues to pace, “come on man-”

“Don't you ‘come on man’ me,” Eddie interrupts, whipping around to finally look at Steve,  “what the fuck was that, Harrington.” 

Steve flinches at the use of his last name, something Eddie only uses to tease or hurt him. 

“What the fuck was what, Munson?” Steve throws his own surname back at him with just as much venom, Eddie squinting his eyes into a glare. 

“All that,” Eddie explains, wildly gesturing to your house, “bullshit you pulled in there. ‘At least you wouldn’t have been a virgin in your twenties’,” he mocks what Steve had said to you. 

“The bullshit I pulled?” Steve almost shouts back, “What about you, huh?” He asks, a finger poking into Eddie’s chest to reiterate his point. “You didn’t break that shit to her gently at all! No wonder she went straight into ‘defence mode’.”

 Eddie just rolls his eyes at him, even though he knows Steve's right. 

The action only angers Steve more. “I wasn’t even in that stupid argument until you dragged me in with your bullshit about hanging out with King Steve.” 

Eddie visibly cringes at the memory of using Steve’s old title, one he knew Steve loathed and has done years of work to be anything but. But, Eddie couldn’t let Steve ‘win’ the argument. If he did he would have to admit that all of this was his fault. 

“Whatever,” Eddie scoffs, “the argument only turned nasty as soon as you put your 2 cents in! The shit you said was just—” Eddie pauses, remembering how Steve had teased him for not ‘making a move’ on you sooner, saying everyone thought you were Eddie’s ‘property’ during high school, outing him for scaring away anyone that dared to get close to you because he knew that weren’t good enough for you, “mean.”

Eddie whispers the last word. The only word he could come up with to express how he felt, how that whole argument transported him right back to his teenage years, something he truly thought he had gotten over from the help of you and Steve. Something he obviously was far from getting over. 

Steve’s demeanour changes, he can see the hurt in Eddie’s eyes, the sliver of vulnerability that he’s been hiding behind his rage. He understands the weight that one word holds.

“I didn’t intend for it to be mean, I just, I don’t know, it just–-” he’s taken aback, stuttering through some sort of an explanation, but there isn’t one. He was mean. 

“It’s like you wanted to hurt her,” Eddie continues, but he doesn’t mean just you, “hurt me.” He whispers so softly, he’s sure Steve wouldn’t even hear him. But Steve does.

“What? Why would I want to hurt someone I love!” Steve says too quickly in response, eyes widening when he realises what he just said, what he just confessed to Eddie. But when he looks at Eddie he only sees hurt in his eyes. 

Eddie still doesn’t think Steve heard him say ‘hurt me’, so he takes Steve’s confession as a confession of love for you, not you and him. 

Eddie just laughs with no humour, shaking his head. “I was fucking right, I fucking knew you hadn’t changed – you’re such an asshole, man.” 

The cogs in Eddie’s head turn, thinking back to how Steve had said all those things against him, no doubt finally seeing his opportunity to put a wedge between you both, so Steve could finally have you all to himself.

Steve just stares at him in shock as whatever fragments of his heart that were left break even further. He didn’t think Eddie loved him back but there was some part of him that had hoped, that had at least thought Eddie would be nice about it, gentle with his heart even if he didn’t want to keep it.  

He didn’t think Eddie would laugh in his face and call him an asshole. 

“Wow,” Steve says to himself in disbelief, “okay.” He feels the tears well up in his eyes as his chest physically aches from all of the heartbreak tonight. He doesn’t want Eddie to see him break down, he'd no doubt laugh at his misery. 

He starts to walk away from Eddie, it’s the only thing he can think to do. It’s only a couple of miles to his house, the air isn’t too cold and it’s not too late — he can easily just walk home, he thinks. 

“Steve?” Eddie questions as the other boy starts to hurry away from him, “Steve!” He tries again, an air of worry in his voice as he calls out, “Seriously? You’re just gonna walk away from me too huh?” Eddie yells. 

“Whatever man,” Steve yells back, already at the end of your driveway, stopping only when his shoes hit the road to look back at Eddie, “you basically just rejected me so, I don’t need this shit anymore.” Steve spits, mentally cursing the way his voice wobbles as he says it. He continues down the road, needing to get as much distance between him and Eddie before he can finally break down. 

“What?” Eddie says too quietly, he realises when Steve doesn’t respond, “rejected you?” he shouts this time. But still Steve doesn’t stop. 

“Steve! Would you — shit,” Eddie curses. He’s so confused about what Steve meant, he’s so confused about this whole evening but he needs to know. The tiny sliver of his heart that is holding onto hope needs to know what Steve meant. 

Eddie runs around to the drivers side and launches himself into his van. Cursing when the engine turns over way too many times before it finally roars to life. He swings out of the driveway like a madman, thanking the universe that you live on a quiet street. 

He catches up with Steve quickly, slowing the van down until he’s driving right beside him. He’s happy he never listened to you and Steve about needing to roll his windows up. 

“Steve, would you just stop,” Eddie pleads. 

“No,” is all Steve replies.  

“Steve,” Eddie pleads exasperatedly, “what did you mean?”

But Steve doesn’t answer and he doesn't stop walking. He hopes if he ignores Eddie long enough that he will just leave him alone.

And he thinks his plan worked when Eddie suddenly drives forwards down the road. But, those hopes are shattered when Eddie parks a little bit ahead of Steve and hops out. 

Steve finally stops walking as he sees Eddie running towards him. He should just turn around and walk away, circle back around at the other end of your street, it’s a longer way to walk but at least he wouldn’t have to see Eddie. But he doesn’t, his feet won’t let him move. He sees Eddie rushing towards him and his whole body aches for Eddie to just hold him as he breaks down and melts into his arms.  

When Eddie finally gets to Steve he’s quick to invade his space, cupping his face tenderly in both of his hands. Eddie searches Steve’s eyes, he can see the unshed tears threatening to spill, the hurt and the tiny bit of hope Steve also holds. It’s enough for Eddie to ask again, even if it could mean more heartache. 

“Steve,” he whispers so tenderly, it makes Steve’s knees almost buckle, makes it even harder to not just fall at Eddie’s feet and beg him to love him back, “what did you mean?”

Steve swallows, hard. He looks into Eddie’s big, brown, pleading eyes. He knows he’s about to get his heart smashed, completely obliterated when he explains himself, but he can’t stop his mouth from moving. God, he would do anything Eddie asked while he cradled his face so delicately and looked at him like that. 

“I basically just told you I wanted you,” he whispers, eye’s never leaving Eddie’s “a-and you just told me to, to get fucked.” He closes his eyes trying to will his tears to stay at bay, the last sentence coming out all wobbly as he tries to stop his bottom lip from trembling. 

“Steve…” Eddie says in a way that has Steve opening his eyes again. He’s met with confusion and yearning swimming in Eddie’s beautiful brown orbs. “You want me?” Eddie asks in disbelief, “I - I thought you were talking about her!” It comes out like a question, like a plea. 

“I was,” Steve says, and he can see Eddie’s eyes start to fall, feel his hands on his cheeks loosen, Steve is quick to grab Eddie’s wrists, keeping his hands on his cheeks before quickly continuing, “I was talking about both of you, idiot.” He says the last word fondly, with a hint of a smile dancing on his still trembling lips.

Eddie can’t help but return a small smile of his own. Steve wants him too. He leans forward to capture Steve’s lips with his own. It’s the only thing he can think to do in the moment, the only thing his body will let him do. Steve returns the kiss immediately. It’s soft, so soft that it sears their lips, all of the passion and pent up feelings and anger from the last hour coming out in the way their lips and tongue dance together so slowly. 

Eddie finally pulls back after they’ve run out of air, resting his forehead against Steve’s. “I like you too,” he whispers, just in case it wasn’t obvious, revelling in the way it makes Steve smile, “I like you both too.”

Steve pulls back to look at Eddie properly, he can see the mix of happiness and regret all over Eddie’s face. 

“Oh.” Steve says. It’s all he can say, he sees the whole argument differently now, sees how stupid they both had been. He realises why Eddie said and did what he did and regrets the things he said to him. Knowing how much more they would have hurt now. 

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” Eddie replies. 

“We're idiots.” Steve sighs. 

“Yep.” Eddie agrees. 

“Should we… go back inside?” Steve asks.

Eddie shakes his head knowingly, “give her some time, trust me.” 

He thinks back to all the times you showed up at his trailer door, sheepishly asking if you could spend the day or the night or the weekend when you were upset. Always claiming to need space from your family after you fought. Eddie never realising what you needed wasn’t space, what you needed was him. 

But you never told him that. 

So, they do give you time. They give you a day to cool off, to sit with your thoughts before they call, but are only met with silence in return. They try again a day later — and again another day after that. They try to go over to your house a week later but you’re either not there or are pretending not to be. 

They try again and again and again until trying every day turns into every two days, which turns into trying every week, which turns into trying every now and then over the next couple of months. The last time they tried was months later when they had had a particularly rough day and just needed you. 

All of this was met with silence. 

You weren’t sure what you expected when you kicked them out, but you hadn’t expected them to just leave. You had expected them to at least come back later that night or the next day. 

Not call you late the next night like that would make up for anything and you didn’t expect it to take them a full week of calling before coming over to try and see you. 

All of this just seemed to cement the idea in your head that they didn’t care about you as much as you'd been stupid enough to believe they did. 

You didn’t realise how upset and borderline distraught this had also made them. You didn’t realise how upset they were after every failed attempt. How they had both sat on the kitchen floor in their new apartment months later and cried, surrounded by half unpacked boxes after that final time they tried, and failed, to call. Because none of this felt right without you.  

And they didn’t realise how you’d done the exact same thing on the floor in your kitchen that night, cursing yourself for not just picking up the damn phone this time.  

******* 

You hold the two dresses up against your body, one at a time. Trying to decide between the black — tight, revealing and super uncomfortable or the dusty pink — a stark contrast, more modest, cute and comfortable. 

You’d spent the last hour getting ready for your date with your boyfriend of about 6 months, Bradley. He was… nice… and fun… and, well, a good distraction. It was nice to feel needed. But, you know deep down that it ultimately won’t go anywhere.  

There’s just something… missing. A spark? Passion? Familiarity? The fact that he’s not Eddie or Steve?

You groan at yourself for even having that thought, dropping the dresses back on your bed as your eyes land on the picture on your dresser next to your mirror. It’s a cute photo of you, Eddie and Steve, faces squished together and giant smiles plastered on your faces. A photo you still can’t bring yourself to get rid of. 

You sigh and flip it over as you seem to before every date, the picture somehow making you feel guilty. As if the two people in the photo hadn’t completely broken your heart. But you know you’ll just put it back to its original position as soon as you get home again. 

You shake yourself out of your thoughts, before you make the mistake of going down that black hole of missing them once again. You decide to just go for the revealing, uncomfortable dress — knowing Bradley would probably like it more, praise you for showing off the curves you mostly hid from him. 

You’ll hopefully be too drunk to feel the discomfort anyway. 

*****

The club is loud and packed when you arrive with Bradley, the bass and the stench of spilled sugary drinks overwhelming. You clutch the strap of the purse that’s across your chest nervously, there’s a split second where you want to turn around, hightail it out of there and cuddle up at home by yourself instead. You from a year ago would’ve, but you’re not that same person anymore. 

“Drinks?” He yells at you over the music. He’s at least courteous enough to keep a tight arm around your waist, hugging you in close to shield you slightly from the rowdy party goers who already had one too many to drink. 

“Please,” you yell back before you both make your way to the bar. Winding through the growing crowd of rowdy people, his hand heavy on your skin, feeling out of place. 

You rest your forearms against the bar, wincing at the sticky feeling underneath. You watch as the bartenders flit around, making the various overpriced, overly sweet drinks for the other patrons who arrived long before you. 

Your eyes wander as you wait, taking in the neon signs behind the bar, the shelves of alcohol with countless cheap labels, smiling as you see two girls overly excited to see each other, the guys next to you obviously getting rejected by the girls standing in front of them, the couple that can't seem to keep their hands off each other at the very end of the bar –- wait. 

Wait.

You stare at the couple for longer than you should. Your brain taking a second to catch up with your eyes. You can only see the back of the guy as you take in his dark clothes, the chain bracelet on his wrist, the tattoos littered along his pale skin, the bats adorning his forearm, the long mop of curly brown hair- No. No no no no no. 

Eddie?

Your head starts to spin, and not just from the overwhelming atmosphere of the club. Why is he here? Why now? Why is he with a girl? You curse yourself for even thinking that last part and for the pang of jealousy in your chest. You’re here with your boyfriend, you can’t be getting jealous of the guy who broke your heart being here with some other girl. 

Even if he was your best friend for all of highschool, the only person who got you through that hell hole, one of the only people you’ve ever truly trusted, truly loved, who you definitely still love more than your own boyfriend as much as you try to pretend you don't, whose back is doing more things for you than your boyfriend has the whole time you’ve been dating, who kisses so much better than him, who looks really good right now kissing… Steve?!   

It’s only then that Eddie turns slightly, giving you a glimpse of the ‘mystery girl’. You feel like you’re gonna be sick. What are they doing? Here? Together? God they look so good. 

All thoughts fail you as you’re mesmerised watching them. The way their bodies press against each other, how Eddie has both hands lazily in Steve's back pockets as Steve's hands fist the front of Eddie’s shirt. Your cunt aches at the way their lips move together as though they’ve done this a thousand times. 

They probably have done this a thousand times, you realise. They way they are standing, so relaxed with each other, like there's no hurry to the makeout session, like they have all night.  

You're confused and hurt as you watch them. You can’t help but wonder if they’re together, they make a hot couple afterall. But you can’t help the awful feelings that that realisation arises. All of your fears from a year ago come flooding back, you were right. They never wanted you.  

Before you can fully spiral you see Bradley’s hand wave in front of your face, it’s then that you realise he’s been talking to you and you see a stressed bartender give you a forced yet polite smile, as they wait for you to tell them what you want. 

“Hello? y/n?” He asks, concerned. 

“Huh?” You reply, dumb, unable to take your eyes off of them — it’s all your brain can come up with as a response, too absorbed in the scene taking place just feet from you.

“What would you like?” He asks, like he’s already asked you multiple times. You rip your eyes away from them, focusing on Bradley’s face that’s still soft and full of admiration, as if you hadn’t been actively ignoring him. As if time hadn’t just stood still, as you watched on in what could only be described as devastation.

“Oh-- ah-- just my usual,” you say finally, glancing back at Eddie and Steve. Watching as Steve’s hand curls into Eddie's hair, it’s longer now, you realise. I wonder if it would still be as soft or if - you shake that image out of your head. “Maybe some shots? Patreon or tequila, you like both right?” You add quickly.

Bradley seems surprised but compiles, ordering one of his own. You take the small glass in your hand, bringing it up to your lips, the strong smell already paralysing, before downing it as fast as you can. You make the mistake of glancing at Eddie and Steve again as you do, finding yourself making eye contact with Steve, realising they’re both looking at you now. You almost choke on the drink in your mouth, wincing at how the liquid burns more than usual as it slides down your throat. 

You grab your drink and Bradley's hand, quickly leading him to the dancefloor. Needing to get as much space between you and the boys as possible. 

Eddie and Steve watch you take the other guy's hand with dark eyes. You spare a glance back seeing Steve’s angry eyes as Eddie whispers something in his ear. 

Angry? What does he have to be angry about? 

You weave in and out of the crowd as they stumble and bump into you, the alcohol making them stagger on their feet and spill their drinks haphazardly on the floor. The further you get lost into the sea of people the more you try to shake Steve and Eddie out of your head, determined to still have a good time despite the anxiety that has wrapped its way around your chest. 

Once you’re almost in the centre of the dancefloor, safely concealed by the thrawl of dancers, you turn to your boyfriend. You pull him in close, rocking your hips to the sound of the music and giving him a forced smile. 

You dance with him for a while, getting lost in the music as you feel the alcohol seep through your body. Although it does nothing to settle the ugly feeling deep in your stomach. As much as you try you can’t help but spare little glances around the club, not being able to stop yourself from aching for just one more glance at them. 

You finally see them, startled by the fact that they’re only a couple of people away from you. Steve is the only one actually dancing but Eddie is happily swaying with him, more than content with and touching Steve and placing gentle kisses all over his neck. Your chest tightens further at the need to tease Eddie about finally dancing, the realisation that you can’t joke with him like that anymore and the jealousy that he would come out to the dancefloor with Steve, even though he never would for you. 

As these ugly emotions swirl around your stomach you realise they’re both watching you, stealing glances the same way you are, but a lot less subtly. Your blood boils at the looks they're giving you, they seem hurt and angry and almost… sad? They have no right to. 

You turn your attention back to Bradley, you make out and grind against him, every now and then looking at them both and winking when you see them clench their jaws. 

You’re confused as you continue your show. What do they have to be angry about? Why do they even care that you’re dancing with someone that isnt them? There was a time when they could’ve had you, a time when you would’ve done anything for them but they were the ones who threw you away. They have no right to be angry now. 

Bradley leans down to whisper in your ear, you’re hopeful that he’s going to say something hot, a compliment or something, instead he lets you know he’s going to get more drinks, leaving you alone in the crowd before you can say anything else. You try to not look anxious about being alone in such a dense crowd of strangers, knowing Bradley is going to take a long time with how packed it is. 

You find some comfort knowing that Steve and Eddie are close by, although you’re not sure why. You decide to continue dancing, doing the most to look as hot and unbothered as possible, but when you spare another glance at Steve and Eddie you’re surprised to find they’ve also gone. It’s weird how their absence has made you feel more alone than Bradley’s. 

You start to leave, deciding to head outside for some fresh air before going to find Bradley where he’s no doubt still waiting at the bar. That is, until you feel hands lightly on your waist. You start to panic, until you hear the stranger whisper in your ear. 

“Hey there, little one.”

Eddie. 

Your body shudders at hearing his voice again. You have to fight every nerve in your body to not melt back into him, turn around and wrap your arms around him and cry into his chest. But you don’t, you're frozen in place instead. 

“We liked that little show you put on for us, sweetheart,” he continues as you feel his hands massage small circles in your hips as he presses himself closer to you, you can feel the outline of his semi against your ass and it takes everything in you not to moan at the feeling. 

He starts to rock you both to the music before pressing gentle kisses along your neck. So feather light you’re not sure if you’re actually imagining them, just some mean trick your mind is playing on you. You start to melt back against him, your body betraying you as it’s automatically drawn into the safety of Eddie’s chest and arms. 

You let yourself get caught up in the feeling before reality comes crashing down. You have a boyfriend, he has a boyfriend, you can’t be doing this. You snap out of the weird trance you’ve been in, pulling away from Eddie and finally turning to face him, fully preparing yourself to tell him off before you see the look on his face. 

It causes your breath to hitch as you see the pure lust written all over his face, his blown and glassy pupils staring into your soul and the possessiveness buried deep inside them that makes your thighs clench. 

You go to take a step back, needing space between you both but your back collides with another chest instead. Another set of lips brushing your ear as they whisper lowly to you.  

“Don't be like that, honey.” 

Steve. 

Your head swims at the proximity of both of them. The familiar smells and feel of them crumbling whatever stubborn exterior you were trying to portray. 

You feel Steve's hands run along the sides of your waist and down your thighs before tracing light patterns back up again, your dress pulling up at the sides as he does. He pushes against you as Eddie had, although he is a lot more worked up from your little show than Eddie was — a testament to how he always was more of the jealous type. 

“Can you feel what your little show did to us baby?” He asks like you’ve wounded them. Eddie pushing against you at the same time. “You’re so fucking naughty, getting us all worked up like that.”

“Anything to say for yourself, miss?” Eddie asks when you don’t respond right away. How could you? Your head feels like it's about to spin off your shoulders, your cunt feels like it’s about to start dripping down your thighs, they’ve thoroughly wrecked you with no more than some gentle touches, barely any grinding and a couple of words whispered seductively in your ears. 

You only manage a small moan in response, one that you’re thankful only they can hear over the loud music. 

They both chuckle at your response, knowing they have you right where they want you. Loving how fucking easy you are for them. 

Steve’s fingers continue to dance along your thighs as Eddie’s hand comes to rest on your waist again, both of them pressing into you and swaying you to the music, causing their hardening cocks to grind against you.  

Steve's fingers slide to the front of your dress, tracing up the inside of your thighs as you let out a little whimper. Steve smirks against your skin as he starts to kiss up your throat as Eddie had just before. Your eyes start to flutter shut as Steve’s fingers inch higher, so close to where you desperately need him. 

“That feel nice, pretty girl?” Steve asks, although he already knows the answer, “want me to keep going?” 

Eddie keeps his eyes trained on your blissed out face, sucking on his bottom lip as he anxiously waits for your answer. 

You nod your head slowly, words failing you as you melt back into Steve. 

“Ah, ah,” Eddie tuts, “you know the rules princess, use your words.” 

“P-please.” You barely breathe out, and Eddie’s sure he would’ve missed it if his eyes weren't glued to your lips. 

He nods at Steve, who groans as his fingers finally make contact with your dripping cunt, feeling the slick that’s soaked through your panties. 

Eddie holds your waist tighter, half keeping you upright as your legs start to shake, half shielding you from any onlookers as he continues to sway his hips, making it look like you three were just dancing.

Steve dips his fingers into your underwear, moaning in your ear as he gathers your slick on his thick fingers before rubbing your clit.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he teases, “this is all for us huh?”

You can only nod and whine in response, too far gone to be embarrassed by how close they were getting you already. No one except for Steve and Eddie have been able to get you this close this fast. 

You feel the coil in your stomach tighten further as Steve's thick digits breach your aching cunt, finding a steady pace immediately, his palm dragging deliciously over your slick clit. Eddie’s grip on your waist becomes so tight you’re sure he’s gonna leave bruises that you’re going to have to try and explain to Bradley later, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You’re happy that he’s at least holding you somewhat upright as your knees start to get weak. 

Eddie presses further into you still to keep you upright, so far that Steve can feel Eddie’s hard cock pulsing against his hand even through his jeans. Making Steve’s cock ache for some sort of release as he starts to rock gently into your ass. Craving some relief. 

You feel the familiar feeling of your orgasm approaching as you teeter on the edge. Only able to get out small sputters of “I’m, I’m—” before you’re burying your face in the crook of Eddie’s neck as your orgasm comes crashing into you. 

Your ears ring and your vision goes white as you ride out your orgasm around Steve’s fingers, rutting against his hand while clinging to Eddie. 

When you finally start to come down from your high you’re barely aware of the music still blaring around you, focusing only on Steve’s hands rubbing soothing circles in your thighs, Eddie’s hand in your hair and their praises gently flowing through your ears. 

Suddenly, reality hits you like a truck. Completely cracking the walls of whatever weird dream you’ve been trapped in with Eddie and Steve. Suddenly everything seems too much, their touch is suffocating and grating against your skin, the music of the club is blaring too loud, rocking your skull and their sweet whispers might as well be screams in your ear. 

You need to get away. 

You finally look at Eddie, his eyes meeting yours. He knows that look. 

“y/n-,” he tries as you start to squirm out of their grip. 

“Let me go”, you suddenly hiss at him, finally breaking free and rushing through the crowd and out the door. You hear them yell after you, but you keep going, their voices being drowned out by the music the further you get away from them. 

By the time you finally make it outside you feel as if you can hardly breathe. Your chest is so tight and you struggle to take shallow breaths, you can feel the unshed tears prick your eyes as you try and will them to keep at bay. Although you’re not sure why, you’re almost certain your makeup must be a mess now, most of it left on Eddie’s collar, you doubt a couple of tears would really make much of a difference. 

You shakily reach into the clutch still thankfully secured across your chest, fishing out a smoke. You put one between your lips as you try, but fail to find your lighter. You sigh in frustration, of course you’ve lost your lighter. 

“Here, let me.” You hear someone whisper, before you see the flicker of a lighter in front of your lips. You don’t have to look up from your clutch to know that it’s Eddie. Your eyes meet his timid ones as you lean forward, using the flame to light the end of your cigarette. 

“Thanks,” you mumble before looking beside Eddie, realising Steve also followed you out here. 

You all stand in awkward silence, Eddie busying himself by lighting his own cigarette. 

“I– ah,” Steve finally breaks the silence. There’s so much he wants to say, so much he needs you to hear, but the words won't form, instead he opts for, “didn’t know you smoked.” 

You snort half a laugh, shaking your head. You weren’t sure what you were expecting him to say but it definitely wasn't that. Sorry would have been a good start… but at least you’re talking, you guess. 

“There’s a lot you both don’t know about me anymore,” you reply, deadpan. You see them both visibly flinch at the implication of your words. It's been over a year since they last saw you, you've had a whole year's worth of experiences without them, would they even recognise the person you'd become? 

You bring your smoke back up to your lips, thankful for the distraction it provides and for how it's almost calming most of your nerves. 

It doesn't, however, distract you enough to not feel their hungry eyes on you. You're surprised your dress doesn't have holes burnt into the fabric with how hot and heavy their gazes are. You adjust your dress with your free hand trying to pull the fabric down, cursing yourself now for wearing the revealing dress. 

You don’t want them to see you squirm, you need to keep up this teasing, nonchalant act you were trying to portray, you couldn't let them know how much seeing them again was hurting you. 

“See something you like?” You slur seductively at them, not shying away from their eyes. Even as your palms sweat and your heart rattles in your chest. 

They both chuckle and shake their heads, not in disagreement but at the absurdity of your question. Of course they did. You looked stunning, confident. In a dress you usually would be too shy to wear. It was nice to see you like this, but it was also weird. 

Not weird in a bad way, it just hurt. It hurt them to see that you finally seemed to be growing into yourself and hopefully finally seeing how beautiful you were. Except it was without them. 

“You seem… different,” Eddie finally managed. He couldn't think of a better way to put it. Not better, not worse, just different. But that's what heartbreak will do to a person. 

“I am different.” You say back, no hidden meaning behind it, like it’s that simple. 

They were different. You were different. You’d just grown away from each other. You’d all changed and grown in the year that had passed, in the year that you had all ached for each other. Now here you were, and it felt like you were talking to strangers. 

You had a picture of them on your dresser that you saw everyday, and yet it felt like those two men were different from the ones that stood in front of you now. 

It makes your whole body ache. 

You want to fill the silence, distract yourself from the heavy feeling. You want to mess with them, annoy them, make them even more jealous and angry and hurt than they’ve already seemed to have been tonight. 

“Trust me,” you say finally, “I’ve had lots of experience since you last saw me.” You wiggle your eyebrows suggestively, trying to joke around with them as if it’s no big deal. 

You see their jaws clench. Eddie fights the urge to scoff at you, to roll his eyes, to scream in your face. Steve is a little better at hiding his distaste at what you’re insinuating. Both knowing they have no right to feel as hurt and betrayed as they do right now. 

You’re not theirs. 

“Well, they must be some lucky guys then.” Eddie tries to speak sincerely. It comes out like venom. 

“Hmm,” you hum, revelling in their reactions. Trying to think of what else you can say to rile them up like this. “And girls,” you say with a wink. 

Lies, it’s all lies. 

You had drunkenly kissed one girl out the back of a club after too many drinks. She was nice and soft and tasted like vodka and raspberries. But that was it… just a kiss. 

The furthest you’d gotten with your current boyfriend was some grinding and heavy touches. Always stopping before it got too far. He was always respectful of that, something you appreciated. 

They look at you stunned. You could see their brains working a mile a minute. You could tell they were imagining something much more lewd than reality. Victory. 

Desperate for this conversation to be over before they pried and realised you were talking all of your experiences up to be something much more, you stomp out your cigarette. Giving them a small smile that said ‘are we done here?’ as you started to walk away. 

Before you can get too far you feel a hand desperately grasp your arm. You know it’s Steve before you even turn around. 

You see his mouth open as he struggles to find the right words to say but you don’t want to hear it. You can’t. 

“Don’t,” you interrupt, before he can even say a single word. His mouth closes as his hand reluctantly lets go of your arm, brushing the skin of your forearm as he drops his hand. You curse your body for the goosebumps that appear along the trail of his fingertips. 

You’re about to turn around again when you decide to ask them just one thing. Something that’s been weighing heavy on you since you first saw them at the bar. 

“So, um,” you start tentatively, rubbing your hand over the arm that Steve had just touched, unsure if you’re trying to warm yourself up or wipe away the memory of his fingertips, “how long have you been dating?” 

They share a look before Eddie slowly mumbles, “a little over a year.” 

A little over a year. 

The same amount of time since your fight. The guilty looks on their faces let you know it was very shortly after they broke your heart. So while you were alone, completely breaking and having to put yourself back together again all by yourself, they were just having the time of their lives? Starting a new and exciting relationship? Typical. 

“Of course you have been,” you scoff. Turning abruptly and stalking away from them as fast as your stupidly uncomfortable heels would let you. 

“Y/n wait! It’s not like tha–“ Steve calls after you, desperately trying to catch you before you run off once again. Like he’s worried this time you’ll be gone for good.

“Just leave me alone!” You practically yell. You feel bad for raising your voice and how it makes them flinch but finally, they let you go. 

*****

Taglist: @pxrxcxa @eddiemunsonfuxks @translatemunson @bandofoxxking @munsonsbaby @corrodedhawkins @chainsawmunson @divinelyruled @parkermunson @bimbobaggins69 @eddiemunsonspantschain @hammity-hammer

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[gh0stbeeee]

Rise of the Guardians/The Guardians of Childhood is low-key my Roman Empire.

Like, specifically in the movie verse, there's just... so much that was never elaborated on. It's one of the unfortunate side effects of being kid's media, things get dumbed down for no reason.

Like, Jack Frost in general as a character. He died. DIED. He DROWNED in a pond saving his sister and??? Nothing. The entire moment when he remembered became "Oh I'm the fun guy that had a family and saved my sister!" AND DIED. Very important part that is completely glossed over other than the idea of sacrifice. Like, the other guardians were "chosen," did they not die too? Did Jack lose his memories because he died, but the others were chosen while alive, chose to leave their lives and remembered?

And just, what were his early years? For a very long time, at least a decade, he probably thought he was totally invisible, that he could never have a true conversation with another person, because I doubt that he stumbled upon another spirit/legend for a while.

Like, that would have driven him INSANE. There's no way he wouldn't be super socially awkward from the isolation, much less just totally mentally well. Are spirit's brains built different? They'd have to be, but I don't think they should be able to withstand that level. Like what was the mim thinking??? Seriously just abandoned a TEENAGER he resurrected with no memory or possibility of support, that's wrong.

And on that note, let me reiterate that Jack died. In front of his little sister. Who had to go back home and tell her family what happened. Did he have a father too? More siblings? Friends and family? They had a funeral no doubt, mourned him. Because he died.

The worst part? He was right there. The whole time. Jack came back to that pond and settlement for hundreds of years, even when it became Burgress. He probably watched his funeral not knowing what was going on, saw his family mourn him without knowing it was for him. He was there when they died, not knowing who they were to him. Did he realize later on? I can only imagine the devastation.

The worst part is Manny probably had to take his memories, because Jack would have been DEPRESSED. He would've tried everything to make them believe, and they probably never would. His parents would probably never see him again, they were adults. His sister was plausible, but she's still mortal. She would have died, Jack would have seen his little sister grow old and die while he stayed eternally young. He might've not ever recovered from that, mim taking his memories distanced him from the pain for when he remembered 300 years later.

But he also could have moved on, grown and loved her descendants and honored her. The mim took that choice away, and that's pretty fucked up.

Then yeah, 300 years of pretty much no acknowledgement. Going into live blind with no guidance or memories, trying to figure yourself out but being ignored by the once who brought you here. Jack would realistically be a little nutty, because wow. It's shown the even other spirits didn't really talk to him, he made them acknowledge him by playing pranks and pissing them off till they confronted him. Maybe it's in spirit's nature to be recluses, but it's not in Jack's. He wanted attention and to be seen, but no one wanted to or could give it to him.

That's why Jamie seeing him for the first time always makes me tear up. This is the first time for HUNDREDS of years that a human has acknowledged him, not an out of touch spirit, but a regular person Jack can connect with, that chose to see him, to believe. That's beautiful, and special.

There's just so many layers to this story that we never got to see, and I'm forever sad DreamWorks abandoned the franchise.

(If anyone has any good fics that explore topics like this, especially Jack's family, please share)

[daisyvisions]

A Promise Is A Promise… - (k.yh)

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI), enemies-to-lovers (ish?), fondling with tits, nipple play, tit sucking, thigh riding, pet name (sweetheart), act is consented

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Word count: 1.4K

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. A/N: Here you go, this is me entering my Younghoon era 🙃 Also, this fic is heavily focused on the mention of breasts but size in particular is not mentioned (I hope? I'm sorry if it does!). This was supposed to be a blurb but I got carried away so enjoy haha 😭

“Show me your tits…”

“I'm sorry, what?”

You looked at him in disbelief. Your eyes widened and your eyebrows raised all the way to your hairline. Did he just say that?

“I said, show me your tits.” He reiterated.

“And why the fuck would I show you my tits?! Are you insane?!”

Younghoon just smirked at how you were reacting to his demand. “That's because you owe me one, remember?”

“No, I don't.” You scoffed. The nerve of this guy.

Amused by your demeanor, Younghoon takes calculated steps towards you and mirrors your current pose. He places his hand on your shoulder and bends down to your eye level.

“Really? Let me refresh your memory then, sweetheart. Didn't you say you'd do anything I wanted after I got you out of that mess last Tuesday? Where you almost could've gotten suspended if only I didn't show up and save your ass?”

Fuck…he's right.

Your flaring cheeks go unnoticed by Younghoon, who's completely reveling in the moment. To have you completely bend to his will. If only he could record this moment and watch it over and over again.

“But-but I-” you stammer, your heart slowly pounding knowing there's no way out of this.

“Oh yes, remember now? So… shirt off!” His smile widening from ear to ear.

“Can't I just give you a kiss on the cheek or buy you something? Please anything but…that.” You couldn't look at him in the eye at this point. Had it been some other guy, you would've instantly flashed your tits at them.

But Younghoon? You would rather die.

“No can do. I wanna see your tits…. now.” He demanded.

“FINE! “You throw your arms up as you turn around and stomp to sit on his bed. You immediately tug on the hem of your shirt and lift the article of clothing off your body, leaving you with your favorite colored lace bra.

“There… happy? Like what you see?” You ask with a snarky tone, but you feel your confidence slowly deteriorating as he says nothing and just looks at you in the eye.

Younghoon briefly chuckles to himself for a moment and sits down, manspreading on the armchair across from the bed.

There's an awkward air between you two. The way he's looking at you is making you feel nervous and… tingly? Before you could even ask what's next, he speaks.

“Come here.” He utters as you absentmindedly follow his command.

You stand between his legs as he looks up at you with a look you can't really understand.

“Remove the bra.”

“W-what?”

“I said… remove. the. bra.” His tone becoming more stern.

“Younghoo-”

“You promised, remember? Or do you want me to do it for you?” He smirks.

Without realizing it, you nod at his question, only snapping back into reality as you feel his warm hands pulling your waist closer to him to reach the hook of your bra behind you.

You both watch the straps loosen around your shoulders as the whole bra slowly peels off from your body until your chest is completely bare to him. Your breasts falling naturally to their position after being constrained.

His face is mere inches away from your soft skin. Your cheeks start flaring up even more than they were earlier as he continues to stare at the sight in front of him.

“Fffuuccckkkkk…” He drags out every letter of the word, staring at your tits like they were the eighth wonder of the world.

You feel your hands getting clammy, knots slowly forming at the pit of your stomach. You've never seen him stare like this before.

Sure, death stares from across the room and side glances were common between the two of you. But this? This was something entirely new.

“Okaayyy I think we're done her-” You suddenly squeal as Younghoon grabs your waist and pulls you to sit on his lap, making you land on his thigh.

“Ah ah ah.” He waves his index finger in front of you. “We're not done here, sweetheart.” His hands slowly moving up towards under your breasts, you feel the rough pads of his fingers deliciously graze your skin.

Before continuing, he looks up at you for reassurance to what he's hinting at and you nod in response. Younghoon may be an asshole, but he needs to make sure you're okay with this too.

His hands move to slowly grasp the flesh of your tits, letting out a sigh of content before he starts fondling with them.

At first, he gives your tits a light squeeze, seeing his fingers make an indent to your skin. The slow movements making your spine shiver and your core grow warm. He continues to knead your breasts until his thumbs fiddle with your hardened nipples.

You bite your lip, refraining from letting out a soft whimper nesting in your throat. But Younghoon sees right through you and continues to flick your nipples with his thumbs faster.

“You're so pretty…” he mutters under his breath, watching his hands groping and kneading at your chest.

The movements of his hand start to get to you as you feel your core dampening with your slick. You try not to think about it too much, but Younghoon is ten steps ahead of you. He feels the warmth blooming down at your cunt against his thigh.

He bounces his leg once to cause friction to your core, watching you try to keep it together miserably.

“Shit I can't take it anymore.” He suddenly says before diving his mouth straight to your nipple, licking your sensitive bud like an animal. His other hand rolling your other nipple between his fingers.

Very faint whimpers of pleasure start to spill out of your mouth the more he keeps on giving attention to your breasts like this. Sucking and licking your nipples like his life depended on it.

You hear the rumble of his groans vibrating against your skin, the front of your panties becoming even more wet than it was earlier on.

Younghoon is living his best life right now. Sucking the tits of the girl that drives him insane (in more ways than one). His cock practically throbbing and aching to be set free, but he pushes his own pleasure aside for now to focus on his current actions.

A litter of red marks appear across your chest as he sucks hickies on your sensitive skin, marking you for the next person to see and well…. as a reminder for you when you look at yourself in the mirror.

A reminder of this moment with him.

All the sensations coursing through your body were making your head get foggy to the point you didn't even realize you were already rolling your hips, grinding your core against Younghoon's thigh.

“That's it, sweetheart, use me. Get off on me.” he mumbles against your skin. You listen to him instinctively, increasing the pace of your hips.

You start to feel a knot tightening in your abdomen, continuing to roll your hips as you chase that sweet release.

“Y-younghoo- I'm gonna cum…” you whine. You feel his hands grip your hips and drag them against his thigh as he helps you get closer to your high.

“Cum for me… I wanna see your pretty face when you do- shit” he looks up at you, keeping his gaze on your face.

Your mouth starts forming an “o” and suddenly the knot inside your abdomen snaps, making you clench your thighs against Younghoon's thigh. Your head falls instantly against his shoulder as you let out a string of moans.

You stay in that position, trying to catch your breath as Younghoon rubs his hands on your back, soothing you from your high.

As you lift your head off from his shoulders, your eyes meet his. You both look at each other for a moment until you start to feel nervous again from his gaze.

“So… we good?” you awkwardly ask.

He smirks as he lets out a chuckle before tucking the loose strand of hair behind your ear and moves to hold your chin up with his fingers,

“Just perfect.”

[ilgaksu]

i will now be referring to this situation as weimargate, because i must laugh or i will dissolve into the void.

aka i have had a VERY weird experience of it in fandom lately, and it has escalated to memes in lieu of interpretative dance*, but also i want to talk about it because i think, in more general terms, it's relevant for discussion about how fandom is evolving.

(*as illustrated by @difeisheng because i am personally intimidated by photoshop. interpretative dance would've only had me to blame.)

so. hi! if you don't know me, i am an ao3 writer who goes by the pen name ilgaksu. i have 179 fics on my ao3 account, and of those, 46 of these are for DMBJ or grave robber's chronicles. i've been writing in this fandom for roughly three years, which means according to the laws of mathematics and my own inability to stop posting about my favourite blorbos, that's a new fic every 3.39 weeks. i have not counted chapter updates in this count, but given several have multiple chapters, i think we can see there's....a lot. one ongoing series is currently sitting at about 200k, word-count wise. i like to write, overall, about disability, reclamation, legacy and memory. i also overuse semi-colons.

i am also a very private person at this point in my fandom career. this will be the first post i've made in a while talking about myself where i have allowed there to be reblogs on it. this isn't intended as an affront to anyone else in fandom. my ask box is open, sans anon, and in the last few years, i chose to reply to every comment i could to make sure i still get to engage about the characters i love without compromising my own desire for privacy about my personal life. i choose to work under an explicit persona - because we all do on the internet but i have made mine obvious and enunciated and almost a brand - because i think there is something freeing about allowing myself that experience. it's allowed me to write work that i relate to deeply without having to divulge my life to be analysed by strangers on the internet. generally, i like to post my silly little stories, talk to people about them, and then go about my day offline.

anyway, so this week, i seriously considered walking away wholesale from my current fandom, and i'd actually like to talk about why, and talk about me as a person as opposed to the narrative of persona that i've crafted.

because the reality of a persona is that a real, living person is required to animate it. if i am the person who is small and human and anxious to even speak about this, then i am also the reason the operation is running. it's a one-man show. as much as i want my work to speak for itself without my need to justify its meaning or worth, without my experiences, research and choices about my time, the work would not exist. that's just fact. it's fact for every writer and artist and podficcer and person who labours out of love you see. i also deliberately consider myself a writer as opposed to a content creator, because i believe that label mimics a wider culture i have no interest in - that of someone creating a consumable, ownable object. my fanfiction is a hobby. it cannot be owned by other people. unlike my original work, where it can be bought, there is no formal, explicit contract between me and the reader. there is, however, in fandom, an implicit social contract of equality and collaboration, where we are all equals. i am fundamentally no better than someone who never writes fic and never wants to and never will. i reject the idea of superiority among fans because i do not engage in subculture to mimic the dominant culture, the one that tells me stories are something only certain people are allowed to see themselves in, or even tell to others; that production is the only means of social capital and intrinsic worth.

i am aware, also, that by being private the way i am, i end up sacrificing some experiences that i could have by being more accessible, but i want to reiterate that i have never gone out of my way to conceal my tumblr, nor ignored people who contacted me directly to talk about my fic. in fact, if you show up to talk about my fic, i will probably be so thrilled i'll never let you leave - especially since, when it comes to a majority of it - i spend a lot of time on research, something i enjoy, and deliberately cite my research in the notes because i want to share it as part of the experience of my writing. clearly, i want ideas i have come up with to be enjoyed and loved and shared, because otherwise why would i take the risk of putting them out online, where i then cannot control how they're received or transformed?

however, since about a year ago, i've maintained a policy of works based on my own that i've had outlined clearly in my profile on ao3 here:

as someone who is playing in someone else's sandbox for free myself, my only request is if when you use an idea, usually a headcanon, which is one i created, which you can as much and in whatever way you want because that is the nature of collaborative fandom and the reason i love it so much, you cite that i was the originator of the idea. and secondly, that you let me know. this is a personal request based on how writing can be a very lonely project, even in fandom. you put your work out into the world, with no sense of who it will reach and if it will mean anything to them, and you have to work on the faith that even if it doesn't, the work itself was worthwhile. but you hope it will, because everyone hopes it will.

all of this is outlining so it's understandable to people that read this how i was completely off my face bewildered when i found out a headcanon of mine had reached the level of fanon popularity where it's been mistaken for canon, and has been for over a year at the very least, and i had literally no idea this had happened.

which, frankly, was both hilarious, in a very bizarre way, and completely, deeply sucked.

i know this is my idea because of how distinctive it is, and how much it contravenes canon - namely, that a character, hei xiazi, was a medical student in berlin during the weimar republic. i know it's mine because the timeline with the canon we're told by the actual writer of the source material doesn't match up, which i was aware of and chose to retcon. it was designed and fitted to a personal interpretation of canon material i had been working on for years, and involved a lot of time and research and intense love for the era, the character, and the ways a story about being alone in a foreign country had intertwined with my own personal life. ever since i wrote it, i assumed that the one or two people who had used it with credit were the only ones who had, and because they had honoured my request i was honestly completely thrilled. i still am that those fics exist. that's because it was collaborative.

i want to be clear: nothing about the situation as it stands has been collaborative. a writer being the last to know about the commonality of their own idea in a small fandom is not collaborative. and while it might not bother everyone, it's bothered me to the point i've had serious consideration for several days about whether i should walk away from the fandom.

but ilgaksu, surely you should be flattered that people liked the idea so much?

yes. this was never about the use of the idea. it's about the way this idea has been isolated and used with an assumption that i would have no interest in knowing, or that i would even need to know. i'm not sure what has caused this - whether the persona element of my work has led people to believe i would not have any emotions about finding this out, but i am not, actually, a persona. i am the person who uses it. and as the person who uses it, this is how it felt to find this out. it felt, and still feels uncomfortable, hurtful and isolating to find out your idea has been so beloved but that nobody considered whether you would like to know. it feels like the collaborative element of fandom has been severed from you, specifically, and that your fanwork has been treated as entirely other from you as a fan. i hope nobody else making work feels like this, and i've been told this situation is so strange as to ensure that's hopefully not the case, but i think this is an ongoing issue more widely - the idea that writers are separate from fan culture, and their works are products as opposed to the shared results of a hobby.

do i think this was deliberate? not at all. do i think this was intended to be hurtful? not even in the slightest. but i want to be clear how personal this feels.

i don't have an answer for this situation. the cat is out of the bag, ilgaksu knows about the fanon, and hei xiazi is, despite all canon, going to medical school in 1920s germany. expressing my discomfort with how this has gone down feels important to me anyway, and it's also important to me that i do it in this very detailed way so that people who were unaware do not feel personally at fault, or feel like by me expressing this i am taking this idea back from them. i always wanted this idea to be loved and to be shared.

i also always hoped this idea would find people who wanted and needed a story about someone a long way from home following an ambition, and how much fear and hope and desire goes into the decision to do something like that, and what it means to be a disabled person in a foreign country, and what it means to be queer in a foreign country, and overall what it means to be a stranger in a strange land. i want to be clear that while i wrote this for me, i also wrote it for everyone who has also lived that. i want my work to feel like someone is holding your hand, not that they're at a distance and disregarding you, the reader, and the relationship we have together during the time you read my work.

i hope in future that if you use my headcanons and are aware of that being the case, you let me know. i don't have to read the work itself if you find that intimidating. i will not go out of my way to find it. whatever you've done with the idea, i will fundamentally see it as a compliment and evidence of an exchange between us as a fandom. but i want to know because otherwise, all i see is you taking something i loved and wanted to share and enjoying it with a door firmly shut between us. i am too old to care if i'm not invited to a party, but if the party is themed around a concept i put so much thought and love - for the source material, the people who were going to read it and myself - i can't help but care. it's hard to feel like a vending machine, even if the process of making the fic is so joyful for me that i won't stop until the joy is gone. it hasn't gone yet, but this week it's been dented a bit.

anyway - if you got to the end of this, thank you. please be considerate of how much this has taken for me to express, regardless of your own feelings on it, and how unusual it is for me to make a post that is able to be shared. if you use the idea in future, you do so with my blessing, which was always there. if you want primary sources, places to start, or anything like that - fashion, language, visuals - i want to be clear you can ask me and i will be beyond thrilled to help. i always have been and i'm concerned that because of this that hasn't been clear. but i also feel like if i don't state this experience in this way at this time, and how it was experienced by me, odds are i will now forever look over my shoulder and wonder if this will happen again, and i love writing for this fandom so much that i will not allow something like that to dim that love. i know you love these characters so much too - it's why you're here. i actually used to make a lot more meta posts like this, about fan culture, and i've been considering if i will again - just less personal and less anxiety-inducing to post next time. until and beyond then, i just hope we can all consider things like this in future - that i can treat you with the same grace - and understand the pressures and anxieties of writers in fandom at this point in time especially. a lot of us have hearts far more made of glass about the things we love, like our work, than can be immediately apparent.

anyway, i'm going back into hiding now.

your friendly local cryptid fanwriter,

ao3 user ilgaksu <3

[starrylayle]

"Don't get me started on jegulus" actually please get started I'd like to hear your thoughts on it because your take on wolfstar and the oc-ification of some characters is so refreshing to see (tbh my first reaction to jegulus was just confusion on how it started and how quickly it got popular lmao)

ahh this makes so happy to hear that my post resonated with some people!! Was worried i was in the minority lol.

Anyways, abt jegulus -- i acc had a reaaally long post about how much i hated the dynamic (in canon compliant ish works -- Jegulus in aus is fine ig) but i deleted it lol.

I think the core reason why i dislike the pairing so much is that I feel like it the ship goes against everything James stands for. We don't know a lot about James' character in canon, but what we do know is that he had a strong sense of justice, and fierce loyalty to his friends and his cause, which ultimately led to his doom. I just can't imagine that James would associate with someone even a little bit bigoted. This is not to say i think James is a saint, i think he could be an ass sometimes (snapes worst memory lol) but i think he'd draw the line at someone who was associated with 'evil'. James had a very black and white view of good and bad and i just don't think it would make sense for James to date reg, esp as he is becoming a death eater. James may be a dick but he is also the biggest ally to ever ally !!

The only jegulus fics I have read are 'Just Lovers' and 'Choices'. Just lovers is a non-voldy au so i don't really have a problem with their dynamic there but choices on the other hand,, oh boy.

Spoilers for 'Choices' by MesserMoon btw (TW for talk of SA):

Regulus' friends rape Mary. And instead of feeling disgusted on the victim’s behalf, (who has been his friend for 5 years) James instead feels upset because it tarnishes the ‘good’ image he has of reg in his head. Thing is when a similar situation happened (The Prank ™), James was upset that Sirius would do such a thing but he also felt disgusted on behalf of Remus. Where was that energy here, huh?? I’ve even seen comments villianising Mary (the rape victim).

The thing I also hate about their dynamic is that it is basically an ally of the oppressor and ally of the oppressed. The problem with that is that when you are allied with the oppressor, you become an oppressor yourself (and reg does; he does terrible things) and that subsequently makes the so-called ally of the oppressed in cahoots with the oppressor as well. This brings so many parallels to real life where people say that they are an “ally” but become friends with/date a racist/rapist. “Oh but they’re nice to me”. its just a little ew.

And in other jegulus canon-compliant-ish fics, sometimes instead of James' character being watered down its Regulus' character. Like, he's not as morally grey, not as complex etc so it makes sense that James would agree to date him. I feel like jegulus as a ship ruins the core of what made their characters so interesting in the first place.

That being said,,, i do love me some canon-compliant unrequited jegulus. Regulus goes to hogwarts, gets so mad at Sirius for ditching him or whatever, but falls in love with the very guy that stole sirius away. He also has internalised homophobia because he's a Black brother so imagine the angst. James potter goes against everything he stands for,, sirius betrayed him,, but perhaps they're right abt smth?? Perhaps he needs to do smth. alone.

sorry for rambling but these are my thoughts on jegulus !! Anyways I feel like I should reiterate that this is a personal preference!! I think it ruins core of these characters, i prefer jily and i love me some unrequited gay pining for the boy who you're brother replaced u with. But this is just a personal preference !

oh and just a side note if it ever led to a decision where james had to choose between sirius and regulus -- no matter how much he 'allegedly' loved regulus, he would choose sirius, no questions asked.

[wolfiemcwolferson]

showing up in your ask box with my FULL government name on display to beg for scraps 5 hours late but:

prompt dialogues!

piarles (is there anyone else 🤭) and 19. "Come here, I'll carry you."

if the mood strikes, please 💕

Cara, baby. I hate to do this to you, but...this has never been done before. Have a drabble for miles away from places you have been - the Vampierre fic - for my racing gods sacrifice

Pierre assumes that Charles is avoiding the room because their house is crawling with people.

Sophie is the first to leave, kissing their cheeks, whispering something to Charles in a language that Pierre doesn't speak - isn't sure anyone alive still speaks - and then she disappears through the front door, kissing Max on the cheek and Danny on the forehead.

Lewis and Kimi are the next to slip out - but days later when Lewis says something about a flight and Kimi cuffs Lando on the neck and reminds him of the upcoming moon.

Max and Danny stay the longest. Nearly two weeks, which Pierre has to remind himself that two weeks is nothing in the grand scheme of everything.

Two weeks is nothing in comparison to the amount of time that Max and Charles have been friends - and the amount of time that Pierre and Charles were together and then apart.

Two weeks is nothing in comparison to the eternity they have laid out in front of them.

But, then Danny is finally pulling Max out the door, talking about how they are due in Montana in just a couple of days and the two of them are alone properly since Charles got his memory back and Pierre wants to be alone with him - wants to show him that his room is exactly the way it was before.

And it's not like they haven't been...alone. Charles was exhausted and could hardly get out of bed for two days after the ritual and so they spent a good amount of time curled around each other, but the place where they spent so much time together? The place that Pierre is most anxious to return to? The place that helped him hold it together and remember and believe?

They haven't stepped foot in that room.

Max and Danny leave and Pierre is ready to drag him upstairs - ready to push the door open and show him. See, Charles. It is exactly as we left it. I wanted it to be exactly as it was so that we could be here as if nothing had happened.

But.

"I am so hungry, Pierrot." Charles pouts. "You heard Max, I need to eat more now that my magic is back."

He reiterates that point by floating an egg into the side of Pierre's head before snatching it out of the air and turning back to his ingredient spread.

Pierre tries not to be annoyed, but it's radiating off of him. He ate already, and Max had offered to make Charles something, but he had refused and now -

"I am starting to take it personally that you don't want to -"

The egg explodes and Charles slams his hand onto the counter. "You died in that room."

Oh.

Charles shouts and Pierre takes a step back. "You died in my arms in that room and I don't want to -"

There's egg on his hand and there's egg on the floor, but Pierre steps into him anyway, cupping his face.

He understands now. He gets it.

"I didn't die," he says. "I didn't die."

Charles doesn't respond, but he does twist his hand in the front of Pierre's shirt.

"I'm here with you now, baby." Pierre whispers. "I'm here with you, I didn't -"

"I can't walk in there." Charles chokes out. "I tried when you were feeding with Danny, but I couldn't even open the door."

Pierre holds him close and he lets the absolute horror of the last few years wash over him and he knows that the only way they move past this is together - just as they promised each other - just as Pierre had assured him they could.

"Then I'll carry you." Pierre whispers into Charles' jaw. "If you can't walk into that room, I'll carry you."

Charles cries, curling into Pierre's chest, but he doesn't resist when Pierre picks him up, prompts him to wrap his legs around his waist.

They have to rebuild and it starts now.

[just-antithings]

I found this rant in my notes from, like June of 2021. I have no idea what it was in response to, but I thought y'all might appreciate it, so here goes:

So, the anti-shipping movement is closely entwined with--although not identical to--the anti-kink movement. (Both are subsidiaries of the radfem poison that's been creeping through society and fandom as of late, but that's a discussion for another time.) For the uninitiated, anti-kinksters oppose basically any "unconventional" sexual activities such as BDSM, DDLG, furry stuff, and all sorts of other shit consenting adults do in their bedrooms (or sex dungeons).

Now, these fuckers are just wild to me. I think anti-shipping is bonkers, but I at least get the idea behind it: Namely, that people can be bullied out of--publicly, at least--shipping certain things. Making ship fic/art is a relatively niche hobby, and fandoms are ephemeral. So if you can make it socially unacceptable to write about Ship A for, say, five years, you may have eliminated that ship altogether. You don't need to keep doing it forever because a fandom's popularity will eventually wane.

Kink does not work this way. Sexual fetishes have existed for all of human history. Many of them are, if not innate, formed in early childhood. You can't keep people from being kinky. Even if the human race started over tomorrow with no memory of anything that came before, people would immediately start trying to find newer and weirder ways to fuck, because that's just sort of what people do.

So... what the fuck do anti-kinksters want, exactly? You can't stop people from having these desires. Do they want people to stop acting on these desires with other consenting adults? What possible good could that do anyone? How would you decide what counts as kink? How could you ever enforce that? Sure, there's always shame, but a) there's already a good deal of shame associated with many kinks b) if there's one thing I've learned from true crime podcasts, it's that somebody who's shamed for their sexual interests is one head injury away from being a serial killer.

Do they just want kinksters to stop making porn? I reiterate: Fucking why? You're an adult, you can hit the back button if you see something you don't like. I do it every single day. It's easy, I promise.

Of course, antis of every variety like to whinge about "the children." It will traumatize the children or make them vulnerable to pedophiles or whatever (which, holy shit, way to blame the victim). To which I say: Why the fuck are your kids in any position to see porn of any kind, and how is this anybody else's problem? Complaining that your kid saw porn on the internet is like complaining that you gave your kid enough money for a ticket, dropped them off at the theater alone, and returned to find out they'd watched an R-rated movie. Like, no shit, Sherlock, what did you think was going to happen?

Nobody made you give your kid internet access. Nobody made you fail to supervise them. Nobody made you be too lazy to set up parental controls, or forget to teach them basic internet safety protocols, or avoid giving them the talk and just hope their school would take care of it. That shit's on you. Maybe, depending on the circumstances, the platform your kid was using is at fault for not having good filtering, or the content creators were at fault for failing to tag stuff properly. At no point in the equation is it the fault of some random dude who just happens to be into balloons or raw pizza dough or whatever.

So... this was a very long rant about anti-kinksters that may not even belong here. In conclusion, parent your fucking kids.

[fanficwriter284]

hii, can you do some more teenager chiffany? missing those two cuties

Hi! And Sure! Sorry it took me a tad bit! Hope this is okay. I really had no clue what to write about...And I've been going through a writer's block! Sorry if it's short. I'm having trouble writing long fics.

The sun had reached its peak on a Thursday afternoon, marking the end of another grueling school day for the students of Jersey High. Charles Lee Loman Reinhardt, now a teenager on close to turning sixteen, sat alongside Tiffany Delilah Valentine, his best and only friend. They shared a quiet moment, Charles nibbling on a sandwich prepared by his adoptive mother while Tiffany indulged in a chocolate-dipped cereal bar.

Breaking the silence, Tiffany spoke, "So, how's your new 'dad' treating you?"

Charles wrinkled his nose at her choice of words. "He's not my dad," he corrected. "But he's definitely an improvement over the losers my mom used to date. And... he's actually quite nice," he admitted, taking a shy bite of his sandwich.

Tiffany teased, leaning against him, "That's sweet. Must be weird having him as a teacher here, though."

Charles rolled his eyes. "It's not exactly a walk in the park, seeing him around all the time, checking up on me during breaks. And could be worst, at least he’s not my math teacher" he added with a smirk.

Tiffany pulled away, frowning. "Your 'dad' assigns way too much homework. You should tell him to ease up."

"Again, not my dad," Charles reiterated, taking another bite. "And he doesn't assign that much. Maybe you just suck at math," he teased.

Tiffany raised an eyebrow. "How would you know? He's not even your teacher this year. Your Smartass is in Calculus."

"He was my teacher 2 years ago before my mom and him got together " Charles responded. "He's good at what he does. You're just ass at the subject."

Changing the subject, Tiffany asked, "What's it like having your old teacher dating your mom? I don't think I could handle it. It'd be too awkward."

Charles shrugged. "You get used to it after a while. At first, I called him Mr. K, but now I just call him Liam."

"That's weird," Tiffany remarked, leaning in closer. "So, do you avoid him or hang out with him?"

"I tried to avoid him at first, but he kept trying to get involved in my life, there was no point in even trying to avoid him," Charles explained. 

"Took me to soccer games, helped me fix my bike, made me lunch, even took me out for ice cream... stuff like that."

Tiffany smiled. "That's nice of him," she said, resting her head on Charles's shoulder.

Charles felt himself blush, his heart racing. "Um, yeah, I guess," he stammered.

…

After lunch, they retreated to their favorite spot beneath the great oak tree, where Tiffany absentmindedly played with Charles's hair since his hair had grown quite a bit when living his his mom and Liam. Since Charles’ biological father wasn’t fond of men with long hair, finding it unmasculine…or at least thats the perspective his father  had under the influence, unlike his sober counter part. Chucky has few memories of his dad when he was sober…but the few he had were one of a kind man, one who smiled, one who didn’t reak of putird ale in the morning, a man who loved him….but that man was dead…he had been for a long time, leaving the cruel and cynical behind… and now his physical body was 6 feet under. The memories of his father, both sober and intoxicated, now flooded Charles's mind. His father's loving moments now overshadowed by his addiction, leaving behind twisted memories, with his dad’s caring face beginning to fade. But in these quiet moments with Tiffany, Charles found himself calm ad happy.

"Chucky?" Tiffany's voice brought him back to the present.

"Hm?"

"Are you okay?" she whispered, squeezing his hand gently.

"Yeah, just thinking," Charles replied, returning the squeeze.

"About?"

"Life, I guess," he said with a shrug, finding comfort in Tiffany's touch. 

The teen continued to gaze into the distance, finding himself lost in the endless void, only to be grounded by Tiffany. Once again, she squeezed his hand doing his best to prevent a potentially anxiety attack.

 " Hey…You know you can talk to me about anything, right?" she said softly.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Charles's lips as he turned to look at her. "Yeah, I know…I–I’m fine…really…it’s nothing…just thinking about stuff…”

Tiffany sighed but gave a light nod resting herself further in his grasp.

[frownyalfred]

Hey, I’ve always loved your works, and I’m delighted to have found your tumblr!

(TL;DR: I really like the way you write relationships and I’m sorry you’re dealing with some shitty comments) Can I just say, I absolutely love the actions and characterizations of your latest mind-link fic? It’s just so raw and so real, and honestly, I absolutely love these types of fics where good people mess up and behave like assholes. Because we’re all human, we’re all people, and life and love and relationships are messy, messy things.

I don’t want cookie cutter perfect relationships, I want these 3D ones that shows that it’s okay that people fuck up. So many fanfics have a perfect protagonist (and I mean, more power to them, it’s their fanfic), but I personally *love* when the main character messes up and just- snaps at someone or is a little selfish. It just makes it so much more human and relatable. And it makes the fluff that comes after 10000% better because you know how much they care for each other, to make up and to work past issues because they think the other person is worth it.

Anyways, sorry for rambling at ya- I just wanted to express exactly how much I love your recent fic and my utter bafflement at the asshole comments. People are going to fuck up! It happens! And if you don’t want to read about that, that’s 100% fine! But stop yelling at the author, it’s not your fic! It’s theirs!

Thank you so much! I think you encapsulated the issue really well.

Don't get me wrong, I love reading fics where my blorbo is overpowered and can do no wrong and everyone else is in the wrong -- it's really fun and there's some awesome stories like that! It's fiction, and if that's how the author writes that character, I'm down.

I also like reading stories where it's grittier and complicated and closer to real life. I like both! The latter is hard to read constantly, because it's too much like real life to be an escape sometimes.

For borderline, I really wanted to dive into the complicated and awkward feelings that don't always make it into fics (for good reasons). Things like people in the bond feeling someone's else's arousal/other bodily functions, personal thoughts that are never shared out loud, instinctive reactions to things people can't control or even verbalize to themselves. Etc...

The reality is, even the best blorbo comes off poorly when we see their every thought, action, and memory in technicolor. People are complicated, and even genuinely good people rarely fall into that easy, good/not good binary every second of every day.

I think a lot of conflict in my comment section comes from discord over Tim and Damian (and to a lesser extent, Bruce) not being "perfect" or equally bad/good.

I've said it before, and I will reiterate it here: I appreciate the stories where Tim/Damian/etc are written as the victim, the wronged party, the protagonist, etc. I'm not knocking them here. But this isn't that kind of fic -- no one is right, here, or the sole protagonist/wronged party.

Tim isn't a bad guy any more than Damian is. Nor is Damian a better person or victim more so than Tim. Their situations are wildly different and so are their motivations/experiences. Hence why it's interesting (or at least, I think so) to see them involuntarily connected and at odds.

It's okay to disagree with my characterization! You don't have to read my fic. But I think taking a breath and Xing out is better than arguing with me/other readers in the comments about how your favorite character is being mis-written or treated.

[prompt-master]

The Answer Was Within The Contradiction

A short fic: After the events of sdr2, Hinata finds himself attempting to recode Nanami. He and Kamakura talk about it

Before it all would have seemed like sci-fi nonsense to Hajime. A world made of zeroes and ones, a contagious disease made from the human psyche, an animalistic human slaughter game for outside entertainment. A synthetic girl.

There was a time before Hajime lived and indulged with this fictional world. And there was a time where he forced himself to be so interwoven with the fiction that a permanent reminder stared back at him in the mirror and whispered into his mind. All he had left was hindsight and painfully distinct memories.

"You are a paradox," Izuru told him often, "Your very existence is a word of defiance."

And once Hajime got a taste of defiance, he found himself craving it at all possible avenues.

"Haven't you already defied enough? Look around you."

Hajime knew he asked for too much every time he saw the bittersweet expression of a grieving man on Makoto's face, stark even behind a video screen. Hajime knew he was already quite possibly the luckiest unlucky guy next to Komaeda Nagito himself. He was here. He was alive. He was real. With most of his friends alive, when no one should be.

But it was that one lost friend that haunted him, that left Hajime hungry to defy the odds once again.

"There are things even we can't do."

Hajime suddenly inhaled sharply. He shoved away from his desk, allowing the office chair he was sitting in to roll back with the force. Count to ten. He reminded himself, head leaning over the backrest. He let the numbers roll over him, resisting the urge to start pulling out his hair.

It wasn’t about possibility anymore, this was about necessity. Hajime’s new life was defined by impossibilities lining themselves up into a confusing labarynth, but he would be damned if he couldn’t navigate it one way or another.

He wiped his brow, then muttered under his breath “Shut up.”

“I am free to speak my mind just as you are.”

“Yeah, well…” Hajime dragged himself back over to his desk, leaning over the computer. He was greeted not for the first or last time by complex codes weaving themselves in ways he would never properly understand. Yet, at the same time. He understood them perfectly. The breakets and loops and command lines built an unfinished art piece in his mind, one he craved to finish crafting. He began typing again, letting unknown knowledge blanket him once more. “You can at least keep it to yourself.”

“Why should I keep it from you, when we are so close to one another?”

Hajime resisted the urge to roll his eyes, Izuru really could act like a child at times. “Because it’s unhelpful. I only want to hear something helpful right now.”

“Then allow me to provide you with some advice.”

Hajime’s fingers jittered over the computer keys, stumbling to a halt. He tsked, wishing Izuru had a body outside his own so that he could kick him out of the room.

“You can not achieve your goal in the way you wish it to be achieved.”

“I didn’t ask for advice, especially not that nonsense.” Hajime glared at himself through the screen.

“It goes against basic logistics.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing that those basics mean nothing to me.”

"Allow me to provide meaning, then."

"I didn't sign up for Siri to be in my head…" Hajime mumbled under his breath. Izuru pretended he didn't hear the words.

"Coding is unique to the coder and without the original files or notes it is nearly impossible to replicate a project as complex as the one you chose."

Hajime felt a headache beginning to brew, attempting to tune out the points Izuru reiterated to him

Over

And over

And over and over.

Hajime bit his tongue, grinded his teeth, and held his breath. He tried to focus on his typing. Or the screen. But each "furthermore" and "lest we forget" caused a sizzling burn deep in Hajime's soul that made the characters blur.

"-You simply don't know what you're doing-"

With a snap and a pop the frustration built up enough that the world set itself on fire. Hajime slammed his hands down onto the desk. He was ready to strangle the man in his brain.

"Then why-" Hajime asked through gritted teeth, "Are you helping me?"

There was a great long pause. A pause where silence was his only answer. for a moment Hajime couldn't even feel the ever looming presence of Kamukura lingering over him. A few months ago, Hajime would have nearly collapsed from relief. He would have savored this sliver of peace in his hands. Instead, Silence felt synonymous with Emptiness.

Hajime roughly exhaled through his nose.

And perhaps, synonymous to Loneliness as well.

When Hajime felt the spark return to his fingers and mind, he hardly hesitated to return to frantically typing out line after line after line of code. He couldn't let the opportunity pass him. No matter how misplaced it felt.

It was odd really, getting to be so intimate with a man designed to be his replacement. But in the end as Hajime grew closer and closer by force he also realized there was an unnerving but comforting truth in their relationship. Hajime and Izuru were two parallel lines, similar in so many aspects that they nearly held the same formula, the same meaning. There was an inherit understanding of one another, and where they were heading. Despite the fact that Izuru was meant to be perfect where Hajime was flawed, Hajime couldn't help but be reminded of his younger self when he finally got to see Izuru in action.

But despite the parallelism that binded them together, there was a truth that could not be ignored. There would always be a distance between the two. No matter how close they became, they were asymptotic curves, they were parallel lines, they were never going to cross.

“... Do not ignore these valid critiques. I do encourage you to attempt such a feat, but you should be aware of what will never be.”

Hajime shook his head. He could feel the heartbeat pulsing within, he could feel the cold hand holding his on a summer morning, he could see the sweetest smile that sent sparks down his spine. She lay dormant under his fingertips, pressed between the little crevices of the keys. All he had to do was piece her back together, and then he would get to hear her say his name again.

He was pulled away from that image, as the cold bitter points reiterated themselves once again.

“AI by design is something difficult to replicate as it is ever changing and ever learning.”

“I know that.”

“As it learns, it changes how it will react to the information given to it in the future, which further shapes the AI. If this is true, it is nearly as difficult to recreate as a human consciousness, where each individual factor greatly shaped one's personality.”

“Ok. Cool.”

“And you do not have the original files that Nanami Chiaki-san was trained on.”

"I know."

“Even if you were to show this fabrication of a fabrication the killing game files, that would only offer the AI to train on it from a perspective outside of what the original Nanami-san experienced.”

“I know.”

“Then you must know that this could never be her.”

Hajime attempted to hide the burn of his tears from the

only

one

he couldn't hide them from.

In that moment, Izuru felt like a hand awkwardly hovering over his shoulder. Asymptotic. Parallel. Why oh why did they leave their Ultimate Hope so emotionally empty? What purpose did that serve? Why did they take that from IzuruHajime?

"I… simply cannot comprehend why you would willingly put yourself in the shoes of Sisyphus."

Hajime saw sparks in his vision with how roughly he kneaded his fists against his eyes. "I don't know what that means."

"This is a task that is clearly emotionally taxing for you. You have not slept or eaten properly since attempting it. I have been the one taking care of our body in your stead. One could consider this some form of self-inflicted torture. And yet you continue to push through it, while being fully aware of the impossibility of the task. All to bring her back."

"You said it yourself," Hajime mumbled, forcing himself back into those shoes. He continued typing, with a pain in his heart that felt akin to working with blistering burns on his fingertips. "I have hope. Or whatever."

"I feel as though I still don't fully understand hope."

"Did you even understand despair?" Hajime spat.

And loneliness answered.

"You can't understand what we had, either. You weren't there."

Hajime could feel the subtle rustle of Izuru's trademark annoyance, something only noticeable to someone sharing the same brain. Even Izuru lacked the emotional foresight to recognize the bristling emotion, no matter how muddled.

"I understand plenty. As the Ultimate Analyst-"

"It wasn't a statistic, it was a relationship. You couldn't understand. The only person you ever bonded with was Enoshima fucking Junko."

Count to ten. Count to ten.

Hajime didn't realize how shaky his breath had become, how furious his typing seemed. For all the bonding he and Izuru did after the Neo World Program there was still a part of Hajime that feared and resented him.

"... I believe that I did quite like the Nanami AI program."

But Hajime also pitied him.

"Did you even know her?"

"It wasn't long. We met for just one small conversation before I plugged the Enoshima Junko AI into the Neo World Program."

"So she knew…?"

"No. I temporarily shut her off before uploading it."

"Kamukura…" Hajime floundered to understand the point of all this. He just wanted to work. To create. To craft. To rebuild. He wanted her back. A part of him wondered if he was playing god but another part of him didn't care at all. He was willing to break all the rules if it meant there was a chance they could meet again.

Everyone else got a chance.

Izuru's voice was as bland as ever, but lined with softness that called his attention, "I understand why you want to rebuild her."

Hajime pursed his lips, "You're not going to tell me you want her rebuilt cuz she's some. Savant tech or something, right?"

"When I brought Enoshima Junko into the Neo Word Program, it was a test."

Hajime did roll his eyes this time. "You've told me this before."

Izuru had no clue on the proper standings of Hope vs Despair. He only knew the nonsense both Hope's Peak Academy and Enoshima Junko threw his way. With two extreme ends of the spectrum lining his vision, he found himself with a scenario he could not predict. He knew, but did not understand why, that Hajime would be placed into the game in his stead. And, he also knew that by placing Enoshima within his path he'd be creating the Ultimate Trial By Fire.

Hajime was proof Enoshima was wrong. Hajime was proof that hope could be just as powerful. Hajime was proof of the impossible. Hajime was the contradiction.

"You have a penchant for proving me wrong." Izuru said. "Perhaps you can do it again."

Maybe Izuru did understand Hajime's desperate desire, just a little bit.

After all, Izuru's photographic memory left him with an unexplainable moment to look back on. A moment he did not understand, yet could not stop reviewing.

Because of course, he remembered talking to the Neo World Program’s AI very briefly.

And even more unfathomable, he remembered quickly deciding to temporarily shut her off before uploading the Enoshima Junko AI. For what purpose? It's easy to find reasons after the fact: in case she had any safety protocols, so that she did not alert anyone of the unwanted addition, so she did not attempt to remove the file.

Izuru was the only one who knew he did it as an odd, questionable act of mercy.

He didn't think he would ever truly be able to pick apart the why's of his decision, none of it made a lick of sense. What mercy would Chiaki have truly been granted? She still would have been within the program, knowing something was wrong. She still ended up deleted, after watching multiple people she was entrusted to protect die. She left this world believing she had intrinsically failed at what she was supposed to do.

So what mercy had Izuru fooled himself into believing for that fraction of a second? So she wouldn't blame herself for the upload? So there was nothing she could have done?

Why had he even done anything in the first place? Why her?

Was it because they were both man-made creatures of hope? Nothing more than a programmable personality, the most useful tool available to their creators yet easily replaceable. Was it because neither of them were real people? Was it because, despite everything he had allowed to happen, she was happy to see him?

Or was it because the very circumstances of their births led them down a long, cursed, unlucky life?

Izuru was supposed to be a man made God. Izuru was intrinsically programmed to be able to do anything. To be even meaningless things like lucky. And yet, he wasn't. Even know, he finds himself with one of his first foggy thoughts of desire and he could not act on them. He was a God that couldn't create a miracle.

Hajime though? He was more than just lucky. He was sci-fi. He was fiction. He was the labyrinth. He was the impossible. The unknowable. The unpredictable. He was living proof that Nanami Chiaki could be reborn. His consciousness was tossed away like an outdated file, scraped and deleted without a single care. He was erased, destroyed, burned, mutilated. Murdered by his own design.

But here he stood.

He should have never been able to come back. Yet here he was, existing in a way that even Kamukura Izuru couldn’t fully understand. It was knowable, but not explainable. Why then, if this state of rebirth could exist for Hajime, could it not be extended to others? She at one point existed in this world in similar contradictory limbo, both alive and dead. Both sentient and programmed. Both human and fake. The question then was, if Hajime could survive through that same limbo, why can't she? If Hajime, a man who lived a majority of his life lacking any special traits, can be worthy of a second chance, then why can’t she?

He was proof of her existence.

“Hinata-kun?”

And she was proof of his.

[avelera]

Speaking of Behind the Scenes stuff for my dreamling fic Giving Sanctuary, I've got the last two arcs pretty firmly plotted but there were a few scenes along the way that got cut and a few ideas for scenes that just never found a place. At the risk of them showing up later, which at this point I doubt, I thought I'd discuss a few that never made it in and some reasons why:

(Cut for spoilers)

1 ) More stuff about Eleanor. Specifically, to have one of Hob's nightmares (aka, PTSD episodes) tied to holding Eleanor's hand as she died in childbirth.

This is my biggest regret for a plotline that did not make it into the story but that I really, truly, don't see a place for given what is left. Most likely, if it occurs at all, it would be off-screen and mentioned at some later point as one of the nightmares Dream eventually dispatched for Hob.

There's a few reasons why more about Eleanor and her death did not make it into the story. I think the primary one is that it felt somewhat repetitive with the Robyn nightmare of losing a loved one and unlike the loss of Robyn, Eleanor's death isn't something Hob could bond with Dream over to quite the same extent.

All it would really do in practice is reiterate some stuff we already more or less know about Hob's trauma: that he lost his wife in childbirth. Nothing really new is learned there and, if anything, it would more likely distance Dream from him rather than draw them together as Robyn's death memory did because Dream would be shown in great detail someone else Hob loved, even if he lost them. It's not equivalent to Hob meeting Calliope at all, since Hob was eventually shown that Calliope really is done with Dream (and has been for millennia) but Dream would understand and perhaps in his fatalistic way attach to the idea that Hob is still mourning and therefore in love with Eleanor (unlikely to move on) if he was exposed to that memory of Hob's.

Also, I don't want to belittle Eleanor's role in Hob's life or the impact of her loss on his trauma (as a married person and a woman, the last thing I want to do is imply Hob's chosen wife was somehow lesser in his life!), but it was categorically less traumatic for him than Robyn's death, for a variety of reasons. One being: Hob has had many lovers die at this point. It's awful and tragic but it wouldn't have been an entirely new experience for him.

Second, he had someone there for him after and someone he had a responsibility to look after in return after he lost Eleanor, which was Robyn as a ten year old child. Hob didn't have the luxury of wallowing in Eleanor's lost, he had a young son to care for.

Third, just based on my own anecdotal observations over the years, widowers don't necessarily bounce back from losing a spouse, (indeed many many people are utterly destroyed by losing a partner) but losing a child tends to hit parents much, much harder than even losing their spouse. And Hob doesn't strike me as someone who would fall into the spiral we see in the 1600s just from the loss of a lover. He's lost lovers and partners before. He was resigned to the fact he would one day lose Eleanor, if not so soon. He lived in a world with an average 20% chance of a woman dying in childbirth, he would know many people who had lost a spouse that way.

But losing a child who had successfully reached adulthood, Robyn at age 20, an accomplishment that can't be overlooked for the time. As the person that Hob had rebuilt his entire life around with Eleanor gone, it was Robyn's death that really knocked him down into the spiral that lasted 80 years. Hob didn't take serious lovers after Eleanor in GS, specifically so there'd be no challenge to Robyn's birthright, no question of dividing up Hob's fortune. He really had his entire life focused on Robyn at that point. Losing Robyn left Hob completely unmoored in the world.

So, anyway, there's multiple writerly and plot reasons not to show the impact of Eleanor's death on Hob. It was plotted to be there at the beginning indeed, at one point I thought the structure of the entire story would be based around Dream finding and dispatching Hob's points of trauma with flashbacks. But then the Robyn one was so powerful, at least for me, that backtracking to show Eleanor after seemed repetitive and a distraction from the plot by that point, which was Dream and Hob falling in love. The Naxos arc really spelled the end of that, given how long it got, and how it really refocused the story specifically on their loss of their sons and Dream and Hob's love story that emerges from that.

(At the risk of this post already being too long:)

2 ) Another plotline was going to focus on Hob leaving the manor house to walk around London with Dream and having some panic attacks around that. This was another casualty of the Naxos arc, where obviously Hob left the house and had a different sort of panic attack about being left alone in the world by Dream, such that one that takes place in London would be redundant and while based more deeply on his recent PTSD triggers, a panic attack around his own ability to survive alone would be less realistic given he's already been shown to be able to survive in London and would eventually pull himself back together if abandoned there (as we know from 1789 in canon). At least in London, Hob would have more resources at his disposal (like knowing his way around surviving there and speaking the same language) than he does when he has the full on panic attack in Naxos at the prospect of just how entirely screwed he would be, short of getting lucky enough to happen upon an English merchant ship of some sort of hitching a ride back to England as a crew member.

But originally, going back into the city of London was going to be a PTSD episode of its own for Hob. Some elements of this still might happen later in the fic, but it made more sense when the story was focused on finding and dispatching his PTSD triggers specifically, rather than the more back-and-forth of care between him and Dream established by the Naxos arc. Among the things Hob might have encountered in London that set him off were loud, intrusive crowds, people staring at him, a public execution/bodies of executed young men (ie, reminders of Robyn), and the sight of blood in stockyards (reminders of Eleanor's death in childbirth).

Short of it just being a misery tour and a history lecture on life in the 1600s, there were only a few fleeting moments in it that I was particularly attached to and again, I prefer how the Robyn memory worked out, as it was originally going to be much bloodier when triggered by a walk through London, showing Hob seeing his son's body as the point of trauma, but the fact it ended up being the lack of closure and saying goodbye to his son that really kicked off Hob's spiral of misery and agoraphobia felt less overdone and more poignant.

tl;dr Those really are the two biggest ones that don't really have a place with where the story is going. I feel some loss at them not making it in, mostly for how it leaves a bit of a bait-and-switch in the structure where it seems like Dream's focus is just going to be pinpointing and eliminating Hob's PTSD triggers via magical hypnosis therapy, but IMO the way the story has evolved since Naxos is richer and more interesting than that structure, and what Hob actually needs, more than magical hypnosis therapy, is someone he loves to be there for him in his life, and the same applies to Dream, and that theme is the one we'll be exploring in greater depth, over and above the specific traumatic episodes of their past, except where those intertwine and have a mirror in one another.

[arokel]

lol MY SISTER’S QUOTE wasn’t about you. CS = Captain Swan from OUAT. And she was talking about Gale x Katniss, and Hiccup x anyone but Astrid fics. We didn’t even know your blog existed until you started jumping to conclusions and sending me hate asks.

Dear God okay. I really, really wish I didn't have to do this because I hate fandom drama with a passion, but I mistakenly opened a can of worms and now I feel obligated to deal with it, so here we go.

1) You have reblogged and liked my fics and wip posts before. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and say you don't check usernames very carefully, but to say you didn't know I was an author (as you said in your reply to my ask) or that you didn't know I existed (as you say here) is a bit hard to believe. But whatever, the post wasn't about me, apologies for jumping to conclusions.

2) I know what Captain Swan is. I also know that you've been tagging rant posts with "which cs do I mean??? I guess we'll never know", coincidentally timed with passive aggressive posts in the bitb tag directly referencing recently posted Don/Bobby headcanons. I - and everyone else - just ignore them because they're not worth starting fights over, but you're not as subtle as you think you are.

3) I don't know how to say this nicely, so I'll just say it. The fandom is not on your side. Or if they are, those people aren't in the tag. No one I have spoken to agrees with you. If there are lots of people who think like you do, great! Hang out with them! Create another tag where you don't have to deal with the kind of stuff we're posting in the main tag!

4) When you write fic about Don and Kate, is that rpf? Even though he had a girlfriend at the time the story takes place, who he later married? Because if so, you're just as bad as I am for disrespecting his memory. If not, then I'm equally within my rights to imagine a fictional relationship for him, with Bobby or with anyone I choose. Pick one or the other, but you can't set a double standard here.

5) Everything I said in my ask - which was politely worded and not nearly as hateful as it could have been - remains true. Looking through your blog it seems like seeing stuff about the boys being queer is really upsetting for you, and I reiterate what I said before: blacklist it. You're willingly subjecting yourself to stuff that upsets you and then blaming us for shoving it down your throat.

So. Can we just not do this?

To everyone else, let it lie please. I waded into a hornet's nest and that's on me, but we don't need to stir it up any more than it already has been.

[saiilorstars]

Ch.6: P.S. I Love You

Steve Rogers x OFC fic • squeeze your eyes for a Bucky Barnes x (2nd) OFC

taglist: @ocappreciationtag​​​​​​​​​​​​ @arrthurpendragon​​​​​​​​​​​ @anotherunreadblog​​​​​​​​​​​ @maaaaarveeeeel​​​​​​​​​​​ @stareyedplanet​​​​​​​​​​​ @gloryekaterina​​​ @averyhotchner​​​ @foxesandmagic​​​​​​​​​​​​ @lenonizi @kmc1989​​​​​​​​​​​​

Story Masterlist • Seren’s Masterlist• Chloe’s Masterlist​​

Also available on Fanfic ○ Ao3 ○ Wattpad

If you’d like to be a part of this OC’s work/edits, let me know!

The moment Seren stepped into Steve's apartment, she couldn't imagine anyone else but him living there. It was completely him in all aspects. It was warm, cozy and very neat. She even spotted the old record player she'd gotten him for his birthday 2 years ago. Warmth blossomed across her chest knowing he actually used her gift. He had a decent amount of records to choose from, having began a collection almost immediately after getting the record player.

"Seren, do you want something to drink?"

Seren tore her gaze from the record player to find Steve waiting for her to answer. He was being cautious with her and with good reason. She was well aware of her erratic behavior tonight. "I'm good, thanks," she smiled lightly. "I like your place. Some of the furniture is familiar, actually."

Steve nodded. "Yeah, I wonder why…?" They shared a small laugh. Seren had chosen most of his furniture for his first apartment. Back when he was just getting used to the new world, she'd done almost everything for him.

"I really like it," Seren reiterated. She set her purse on the coffee table. "I think you've made it very you."

"Is that a good thing? Because I've gotten several complaints from Chloe that it could be a little less old…" Steve shook his head at the memories. Sometimes, Chloe Winters was too much.

"You can kick her out any moment," Seren said, making them laugh again. When they got past it, Seren grew serious. "I don't think I've thanked you for keeping an eye on her while I was gone. In fact, I'm pretty sure I've just been pretty rude these past days when it comes to her."

"You don't have to—"

"I know Chloe can be a handful sometimes and the fact you let her stay here — in your room while you take the couch — means a lot. Anyone else would've just sent her on her way already. So, really, thank you so much."

"I've already told you — she's become like a little sister to me. Plus, I got a secret too…" Steve made a nod towards the couch. "It's a pull-out."

"Aah," Seren chuckled.

"Better than just a normal couch. Sometimes I forget how much better this world is in terms of inventions."

Seren started making her way to the couch. "But other things are far worse, aren't they?" She gave him a sharp look just as he was about to say that it wasn't true.

"Some things could stand to change a bit…" He said with his hands raised in front of him. Seren smiled at him and sat down. She patted the empty spot beside her for him. "The cellphone things could be a little less, uh, brainwashing?" He came to sit with her. He would continue the random subjects with her if it meant easing her nerves from the event. "I've seen so many people crash into others because they won't look up from their phones."

Seren chuckled. "Yeah, that tends to happen a lot. It's so weird, when I was growing up, there weren't cell phones like these. The first ones were so big and then suddenly we switched to these small things. Early 2000s is when we got cell phones with cameras in them."

"Did you have one?"

Seren snorted. "No! They were expensive. Plus, my parents didn't want me getting used to having all that stuff around me. They thought S.H.I.E.L.D. was plenty." At the mention of the organization, Seren fell silent for the next minute. It seemed like his distraction attempt wouldn't be working out so well.

"Seren, what is it?" he asked her. "If you ask me, the night went really well. You said everything exactly how it should've been."

"Yeah, I did. Everything went perfectly," Seren nodded slowly. Her bottom lip became chewing gum at that moment. "Maybe that's the problem."

Steve tilted his head at her for that last remark. "What do you mean? I thought you wanted—"

"If I get the approval, then I'll be off to another country again. I'll be starting over, meeting new people, making new colleagues — I'll be surrounded by strangers again. And when that's done, I'll go to another country...and then another…"

"You don't know that—"

"That's the plan, Steve. Rebeca and Fury already told me," Seren said, her voice falling into a whisper. "Will I really get to have a life that way?"

Oh, that was a good question that Steve unfortunately didn't know how to answer.

"This is exactly what my parents always talked about and I never really thought about it until now." Seren drew in a breath, feeling the weight of her future the more she considered what her life would be like if she was always on the move. She wouldn't have a real home anymore. Her friends would always be changing. Her family would be so, so far away from her. She could say goodbye to everything else. Once upon a time, it didn't really matter but today...it hurt her more than anything.

"Seren, I think that whatever you want to do should be just that: what you want to do," Steve said. "It doesn't matter what the 'plans' are. You are the only one who matters and you should value your happiness over whatever plans Fury and Rebeca have." He could say that he would love to have her at home again but that would be completely selfish. He meant what he said — she was the only thing that mattered in those plans. If she was happy going on with the plans, then so be it. He'd have to learn to live completely without her and move on.

"That's what I'm confused about." Seren sighed and shifted on the couch to face him. "I have always been with S.H.I.E.L.D. I've always known where my place is, what I want to do. There's never been any doubt but...something changed."

Steve felt something in his chest. "What did?"

Seren's eyes drifted to the side, landing on the record player. She swallowed hard — she knew exactly what changed. Chloe was right. She couldn't keep on denying the truth, denying the fact she hadn't been able to move on and forget. She had to understand that her thoughts about the future had changed. She no longer saw herself alone. She never considered what it would be like to be serious about someone. There was always an underlying fear that her significant other would lash out at her because of her Celessian side. It wasn't easy getting over the fact you were dating someone who was half alien. She wouldn't lie to herself and say that she didn't have that fear — just an inkling of it — with Steve too. But for that fear to even be spoken about would imply what she wanted to be with him.

Steve absolutely hated watching Seren in this position. She was so conflicted and he had no idea what to do to help her. He followed her gaze to the record player and, for one moment, he debated whether or not to go with his first gut feeling. Usually that's what he would do on a mission but Seren always made him feel like he should do more. He should go above and beyond to see her happy, and it pained him that he was ridiculously clueless.

Just do the first thing that pops into your head. Steve knew the answer before he even finished the thought. Without saying a word, he got up from the couch and walked around.

Seren blinked when he came up to the record player. "What are you doing?"

"You know back then, I struggled so much to talk to women...it was a nightmare." He was sifting through records so he missed the look Seren sent his way.

"As far I can see, you don't seem to struggle so much anymore. Everyone loves you." Seren felt her face flush remembering what Chloe had said earlier in the night. She wasn't one of those crazy women who only saw him and a bed. He was simply so much more than that and no one had a clue. He was someone you could talk to for hours. He was someone who would listen and try to comfort you however he could. He was so kind, and so loyal. If he said he had your back, then he did. Seren's heart wanted to burst the more she thought about Steve. She could literally spend hours thinking about him, and on most days she typically did. "Steve, I lo—"

"Yeah, but that's different and I'm still not that great." Steve seemed to find exactly what he was looking for. He never noticed Seren covering her mouth behind him.

She'd almost slipped! Dear God, what the hell did I almost do? Seren felt so embarrassed, despite the fact Steve didn't notice.

"I couldn't even ask a girl out to dance. I mean, she would've probably said 'no' anyways but I could've at least tried to ask, you know?" Steve went on, chuckling to himself.

"Sometimes courage is hard..." Seren said, "Sometimes the bravest people can also be the shyest. And I definitely know that you're the bravest man I know."

"Unfortunately, it can come back and bite you. I wasted time — I did that with Peggy — but I'm trying to use that experience and everything else as a guide to right my mistakes." Steve glanced over his shoulder to see Seren had laid her arms over the top of the couch and was resting her chin over her hands. She was smiling at him, clearly listening to his every word despite them probably being all over the place (and obscure). She was always so attentive to him. He wanted to show the same gesture towards her, and perhaps more. "I don't know exactly what's confusing you but if I can say a piece of advice—"

"Please do," she practically begged him. "Anything you say will help me organize my thoughts."

"The things that have made you unhappy in the past concerning S.H.I.E.L.D. should serve as a way to help you make a better choice this time 'round. They're mistakes, try to right them in a way that makes you the happiest."

Seren considered the idea. She could look back in her life and avoid making a decision that would bring her to the worst moments. "Thank you, Steve." She met his gaze with another smile — it was even prettier this time. "So, have you been able to right some of your mistakes?"

"I'm hoping to in a way," he said as he let the record spinner finally drop. He turned to face her just as the music began to play. Put Your Head on my Shoulder. "Would you like to dance with me?"

Seren knew exactly when her blush bloomed over her face. She pulled her arms from the top of the couch as Steve came around with a hand held out for her. "You bought the song?" She couldn't help the light laugh that slipped through her lips.

"I had to. It reminded me of you." God knew that Steve wanted as many reminders of Seren as he could get, even though it probably did his heart no good.

The blush grew deeper over Seren's cheeks. "Why would you want that?" she asked.

There were a million things that Steve could say to her that would hide the truth. He gulped.

Seren saw it. Seconds of courage helped her rise from the couch with a taunting smile. Her blue satin dress seemed to shine under the light. It was just like that, that Steve felt his heart thump a bit stronger. She was beautiful..and she wasn't his.

Because he was almost like a statue, Seren walked up to him and ultimately took his hand. "I'd like a dance," she raised her head to meet his gaze. She felt a rush of pride knowing that this time, nobody else would get a chance to look at him. Only her.

Steve brought his arms around her waist and planted his hand against the small of her back. Even though he was beyond nervous — Seren had yet to lift that alluring look off him — his feet actually moved at a decent pace to the song. When her hands moved to the back of his neck and they actually touched his skin, he felt an insane heat rush through him.

"You're a better dancer than before," Seren spoke quietly, especially considering what happened the last time they danced together in London. "Have you been dancing with other people during these past 2 years?"

"Umm…" Steve raised his eyebrows as he thought, "Not...not really, no."

"Mm, I don't know, I've heard you're quite popular with the ladies…"

That was the second time she said something like that and it was only now that Steve realized it. If he wasn't completely off, one could say that it sounded like Seren was...a bit jealous? Why would she be jealous, though? They were in his apartment, slow-dancing to a song that he clearly said reminded him of her (the whole reason he even bought the record in the first place).

"I honestly don't notice that kind of stuff," he said.

She smirked. "Really? Every man always notices when women trail after them."

"I think I've made it clear that I've never been good with women. Not smart at all," he shrugged and earned himself a light chuckle from her. He felt an irrevocable surge of courage then, seeing her so casual and at ease with him. She'd been so conflicted earlier and now it seemed like a thing of the past. He was responsible for that. He had to believe it in order to keep that courage from leaving him and being unable to say what he wanted to. "If I ever had been smart, I wouldn't have let you go 2 years ago."

Seren's eyes widened, the air in her lungs stilling. "What…?" She may have been having an odd night with her internal struggles but she was pretty sure that she heard right.

Steve held her closer to his chest. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be bringing this up after such a long time but if I'm being honest, I haven't had such a good time since London. I'm terrible at this stuff and it's awful because it means my chances with you are even lower than possible."

"Wait—"

"I don't know if you've already moved on. I mean, it wouldn't be that surprising considering how much time it's been but I think you needed to know what's been going through my head. I miss you, Seren, and I would want nothing more than to be with you." Steve was terrified of what Seren would say to him. He could be very right about her moving on. If that was the case, then he just completely ruined this relationship and he would have to move on for real.

But Seren didn't answer right away. Instead, she rested her head on his shoulder. "This is our song," she whispered. "You're way braver than I am. You go out and you buy things that remind you of me. I don't. I-I can't. I never did...because the thought of having something like you but not you hurts me too much."

They swayed slowly to the song for the following seconds. Their grip on each other tightened and the music seemed to overtake the apartment completely. Neither realized what ran through the other's heads. Steve was trying to process what Seren had just said and the implications that went with it. Seren struggled to come up with a good way to express her conflict — the job proposal, her future — but neither wanted to end their dance just yet. The fact was they loved where they were and the idea of separating (again) was too painful.

Can you really do it again? Leave without looking back? The mere question terrified Seren. No, no she couldn't do it again. She barely did the first time. She raised her head from Steve's shoulder and looked up at him. "It's you," she said quietly.

"What?" He blinked.

"What I'm confused about? It's you...you and my job."

"I don't-I don't want to ever put myself between you and your job, Seren—"

"I know that, silly," she smiled sadly. "It's what we were talking about earlier. We both know that if I get the approval from the Council, I'm going to be travelling nonstop. I won't be coming to D.C. for a very long time. And I'm not sure I want that. I don't know if I want to be alone for such a long time."

"You wouldn't be. If you want to try something, I'd support you. I'd make the visits myself." He wouldn't necessarily be making a sacrifice there. He'd love to visit her wherever she was and see the sights with her.

"I know. I know that you would do God knows what just to make me happy but it's not just about us, you know? My family's here. They're in New York and if I was here, in D.C., it'd be a lot easier to see them than if I were in France or Brazil or wherever else the Council would send me to. Natasha's here, Chloe — even though her schedule is a mess — would be easier to see here. I'm just not sure if I'm willing to give up my life for this Initiative, not when I already gave up so much before." Her childhood was gone, a good and honest relationship with her parents was never going to be possible because of the Initiative. "I may be thinking of a future that might not even happen but...what if one day I want to settle down and...I don't know...have a kid or something…" Her face warmed up with the idea once it expanded to include who that possibility might be with, "...do I really want to be that mother who's never home? It's really in the future and it might not even happen but—"

"It's a valid thought, Seren, don't be ashamed of it," Steve said. It was of course very into the future but something that had to be considered. He simply hadn't realized that she was thinking about so many things.

"It was easier to say 'yes' when it was just a 2 year plan but now that it could potentially be an all-my-life plan…" Seren bit on her lower lip, "It's hard to give things up. And that's never happened to me."

"I understand. Trust me, I do." Without even thinking of the implications, Steve left a kiss on her temple and lingered there for a few seconds. He'd heard the fear in her voice admitting to that. "You've been asked to give up so many things before and it's never been fair. You deserve so much more, Seren. You deserve more than what S.H.I.E.L.D. gave you."

"You are the one thing that I can truly thank S.H.I.E.L.D. for," Seren said, lifting her gaze again. "It gave me the opportunity to meet you."

"I yelled at you when we first met…" Steve would always hate that it was how their first encounter went. That was definitely not his finest moment. "I ran out on you, actually."

"Yeah, you did," Seren chuckled. "But I completely understood you. I didn't really like the method Fury went with your awakening. And trust me, there were meetings about how we were going to wake you."

"You guys had meetings about me?" Steve blinked. He couldn't imagine having a whole room of people talking about him.

Seren giggled. "We had the CIA in there too."

"Oh God..."

"A couple of us were against the idea that was made, and, honestly, I definitely did not pull off that 40s outfit." She shuddered, making Steve laugh.

"You looked fine to me," he said and she knew that he meant it 100%.

"However it happened, I'm glad that it did," she reiterated. She licked her lips nervously and cupped his face, having to lean on her toes for it to actually be possible. "Because if it had been any other S.H.I.E.L.D. agent in that room, we might not be where we are right now. And do you know, it actually wasn't going to be me."

There were way too many things happening at once that Steve felt his head spinning. Seren's soft fingers were on his face, gently stroking his skin. She was looking at him with warm eyes and a captivating smile. Her perfume was filling the air around him, drawing him closer to her.

"Did you just say" — he was blinking fast, trying to snap himself out of the trance — "you weren't supposed to be in the room when I woke up?"

Seren seemed to know what she was doing because she leaned closer to him, pressing a kiss on his cheek. "Aha," she murmured.

Steve's heart was racing again. "I-I — who — do you — who was...who was supposed to be there?" He couldn't imagine anyone else but Seren being in that room with him.

Seren kissed the corner of his mouth and that was the end of any thoughts Steve had. "One of our friends from the CIA, but does that really matter right now?"

Nope. Steve grabbed the sides of her face and kissed her completely. He might have crashed their lips together and he would definitely apologize for the brusque manner but later. Right now, he wanted to — no, he needed to — kiss her until he ran out of breath. There were 2 years of longing to get over and luckily for him, and her, their lungs were significantly strong.

Seren moved her arms around his neck, helping deepen the kiss. Every tensed nerve she had a minute ago disappeared, and how could it not? All her heightened senses were sharp and on fire, all caused by one Steve Rogers. Any other moment she might have been embarrassed at how easily and quickly she moaned into a kiss, but it was impossible to feel uneasy around him. Even with a rough kiss, Steve held her gently and carefully. Seren almost felt like reminding him there was more to both of them than the average human.

They stumbled down on the couch and still didn't let go of each other. Steve lowered his arms around her waist, hand pressing against her back and part of her exposed skin. Her skin was so smooth it felt like a crime to grip it or mark it in the slightest. He just wanted to hold her in his arms for as long as he could — hold the moment for as long as—

Seren recognized the buzz of her phone. She'd sat right over her bag (and hadn't realized a thing until now). "I—" She actually had to take in a big breath.. The fact someone had literally managed to steal her breath away was exhilarating.

Steve couldn't make out her facial expressions and what she was feeling. His mind was still trying to catch up with what had just happened. "Seren, I'm—"

"Shh," Seren held a finger to his lips while she pulled her bag out from underneath her. "I just gotta make sure it's not Rebeca." She pulled out her phone and only a few seconds of reading the text message on her screen, her entire expression fell flat.

Steve had no idea what happened. "Are you...are you okay?"

But just like that, she smiled at him and melted his heart. "You know, I say the first thing we should do together is...plot murder." Her lips curled into a frown as she showed him the message she'd received.

Steve read it quickly — it was just two short sentences — and frowned as well. "That's definitely not Rebeca."

"No, it is not." Seren looked at the message again.

Just a note, but if you're not already making out with Steve, then I'm coming over and locking you both in the room. We've had enough.

- Chloe

"I'm going to kill her. I'm really going to do it this time." Seren dangerously gripped her phone until Steve gently took it out of her hand. "She's — eugh!" She curled her hands into fists. "Would it kill her to stay out of my life!?"

"That would be too easy," Steve said, leaving her phone on the coffee table. "Plus, I'm pretty sure it's under the duties of a best friend. God knows that Bucky screwed me over so many times just to get me to go out with girls."

Seren lifted an eyebrow at him. "And just who exactly did he put you up with?"

Steve blinked at her. How had this turned around to him now!? "I didn't — that was — weren't we — we—?" he gestured between them. "Weren't we fine a minute ago?"

A smile stretched across Seren's face watching him fumble over his words. "Lovey, you're going to be fun messing with. Forget those other girls and kiss me instead."

As soon as he heard her, Steve stopped altogether. Lovey. That same word that kept slipping from Seren each time they were in a compromising situation. It was the word that gave Steve the courage the first time to actually kiss her 2 years ago. It was her fond name for him. And he was oh-so-fond of her too.

"Yes, ma'am." He leaned over and kissed her again.

Seren happily rejoined her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her. Their kiss was slower now, leaving room for giggles and words here and there.

"You do realize we're not getting cinnamon rolls tonight, right?" Steve said to her, pressing his forehead against hers.

"Mm, that's fine by me," Seren shrugged. "I'm suddenly not in the mood for cinnamon rolls anymore."

"New craving?"

"Something like that…" Her alluring smirk was something that Steve never thought he would need in his life.

"You are…" He started already without much breath, which led to a fit of giggles from Seren.

"Adorable?" she finished for him with a wink after.

"Something like that," he settled for. He wouldn't want to waste any precious moments with her, not when they were like this.

They kissed again and with no interruption whatsoever — maybe it was really good that no one would be coming by after all.

Seren enjoyed every minute that passed by without them fully breaking apart. It was refreshing being that close to someone without fearing an accidental display of non-human traits like extra strength. Because right now she was using every last part of her strength to keep Steve right where he was. He was, unsurprisingly, hesitant to let his hands roam when they clearly wanted to. She moved the hand reluctantly touching her left knee higher up until it was settled prominently on her thigh.

"Sorry, I—" Steve mumbled, much to her amusement.

"You're fine." She tilted her head up to capture his lips in a sweet kiss. "I've been there, trust me."

"You?" Steve raised an eyebrow at her, clearly unconvinced with her promise.

Seren pointed to the prominent star birthmark on the right side of her neck and her shoulder-bone. "Look who you're talking to, lovey. I don't have serious relationships because not everybody would be able to see past my out-of-this-world traits. I always have to hold back, whether it's the truth or physical things like strength and my powers."

"Not with me," Steve said automatically. "I don't know what's going to happen but you will never have to hide anything from me. I promise you that." He let his fingers run through her soft ginger hair. "Not even your real hair color…"

Seren burst into laughter. "Brunette-Seren thanks you."

"I mean it." Steve's fingers came down to her star birthmark at the end of her shoulder. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss over it.

Seren's eyes closed with the contact. "Mmm…" She could have said 'yes' to anything he wanted right there and then. Burn the entire building? Sure thing. "Can I stay with you tonight?" The question slipped from her before her brain could discourage her from asking it.

Steve pulled back to look at her, of course surprised with the question. "Uh, I mean…"

Seren would soon find reality again and flush with embarrassment. "Oh my God, I'm sorry. I didn't...of course not — I don't even — I haven't even given you any explanation—"

"What explanation?" Steve said, making a face at her.

Seren sighed. "Well, you know, what happened the last time we saw each other."

"Seren, that was then. This is now. I'm not all great reading signs but I want to say that I understood this one pretty well."

"I just don't want you to think this is me changing my mind back and forth because I promise that's not it," Seren said, shaking her head. "I've...I haven't been able to forget what happened and I couldn't forget about you. It's actually pretty scary."

"Scary?" That wasn't exactly the feeling that came to Steve when he thought about her. "Why...why would it be scary? Did I do something?"

"No!" Seren exclaimed. "God no! You...of course you didn't do anything. It's my stuff, my weird out-of-this-world stuff. Look, I've said it before multiple times. I didn't exactly do a lot of dating and a huge reason for that is because of my fear. My fear of being honest about what and who I was. In the past, I've been able to push away any guy who was genuinely interested in me — and trust me that number was pretty low to begin with — and not think twice about it. I moved on like nothing. I couldn't for the life of me do that with you." She jabbed her finger against his chest. "You with your ridiculous smiles and pretty eyes and comforting ways...I...I couldn't do it. I couldn't forget about you. That's never happened to me."

Steve gently pulled her finger off of him and wrapped his entire hand around his. "I'm sorry..."

Seren chuckled, throwing her head back. "No, lovey, that's not to mean you did anything wrong. You don't have to apologize to me."

"I don't like seeing you conflicted," Steve said simply. "Especially if I'm the cause."

"But you're not — not in that way, anyways." Seren sighed, pulling her hand out of his and bringing them to rest on his shoulders. "I want you to know that this isn't something I just thought about this morning. I haven't stopped thinking about you. I'm in...I love you. I'm sorry I didn't say it before. And I'm sorry that I hurt you."

Steve's eyes had widened, his throat going completely dry. His heart was doing no better seeing as it really wanted to burst from his chest now.

Seren looked no better herself. Her eyes were filled with fear for his response. She kept talking about her mistakes, after all. She hated how stupid she'd been. "I'm sorry," she whispered, lowering her head. She felt hands slide over her cheeks not a minute later and lift her head up. The moment it happened, she had lips on hers, kissing her for dear life.

"I love you, Seren," Steve murmured against her lips. "We have one very similar flaw. We're both so afraid because of the past, because of who we are. I'm willing to try and learn a better way to live if you are..."

Seren didn't think twice as she nodded. "Yes, please," she said in a strained voice. "Can I stay with you tonight?"

Steve smiled like he had already thought about it. He never answered her, just went straight for a kiss again. Something changed in that moment. Where their kisses had slowed, they'd intensified again. Heightened senses and urges were raging to be met and appeased.

Steve kissed the crook of Seren's neck, over her star birthmark, and the second one. What she felt like she had to hide from everyone, he adored. He loved her whole and realized he could only love her with that intensity. He had no idea about the feeling until now. He needed her to know that; he needed to show her. This time, his hands roamed her body with no hesitation. He gripped her waist, pulling her on his lap. One of the straps of her dress had fallen down her shoulder. He met her gaze for a moment, making sure that she was okay. Without saying a word, she flicked her other strap down her shoulder. The act was so quick, so innocent, that it brought a laugh out of Steve.

"I love you," he said, in case she doubted him.

Seren was very proud of herself. "I love you," she spoke in a language that Steve had only heard once before. The day he caught one of her training sessions with Atria. It was Celessian.

"If I'm going to love you, I'm going to do it with all of my sides," Seren said a minute later, earnest. "And this is who I am, as much as it frightens people."

"Doesn't frighten me," Steve assured her. "I'd love to hear more of that language..." He cupped the side of her head. "Everything about it, actually."

Seren nodded, a smile growing across her face. And relief. She was guilty of testing him just to verify that he really meant what he said. It was hard letting the fear go altogether but she would have to work on it if she wanted things to work. And she really wanted things to work.

So she kissed him again. Hard. He matched her strength and soon they were ripping the zipper off her dress and the buttons off his shirt. Seren felt Steve's hands crawl down her legs until they found the straps of her heels and pulled them off her. She pulled her legs up and around Steve's waist. No words were exchanged as their mouths were practically mushed against one another's. The only real thought that would make them come out for air — maybe — was to ask whether or not they would move.

~ 0 ~

Chloe tossed and turned in bed, squeezing her eyes shut as if the extra pressure would bring her closer to a peaceful sleep. The bed was comfortable, the pillows were beyond squishy like marshmallows, the room was nice and cozy, and yet here she was still unable to sleep. Every time her eyes closed, or she got a bit comfortable, she saw flashes of places and things.

First, there was an explosion. Then, it was a highway in broad daylight. Then there were men fighting on a street. Another moment, it was a bank and she walked through it. Then there were a series of needles, flashing lights, an insane throb of pain, and she heard herself scream.

Chloe gasped and shot right up from bed. Her breathing was fast and ragged, eyes wide with shock and horror. As she calmed, she heard one more thing in her head.

'Be ready. There's a 98% chance they are coming.'

Chloe shook her head as if that would shake the thoughts out of her head altogether. She looked at the window and saw a sliver of light peaking through the curtains. For a moment, she forgot where she was and why she was there. Once she got her bearings back, she went in search of her phone. She had a bit of a headache from last night. Natasha always wins the wine competition.

Chloe got out of bed, only to get a repeat of those flashes. She stumbled back, almost falling down on the bed.

I need air. She felt like she was suffocating.

She looked around the room, seeing Seren's suitcase lying in the corner of the room. Without thinking twice, she hurried towards it and ransacked it for some more suitable day clothes. Going out in a party dress simply wouldn't do it.

Natasha was still lying on the couch, unconscious, when Chloe tiptoed towards the door.

"Hold it right there," Natasha's smooth voice stopped Chloe just as she had reached for the doorknob.

Chloe made a face and looked back at Natasha who had not moved from the couch. "Okay, how do you wake up and not have that weird morning voice?"

Natasha turned her head in Chloe's direction, opening her eyes and smirking. "Because I'm good like that." Chloe groaned. "Where are you going?" Natasha exhaled a breath and sat up on the couch, reaching for her phone on the coffee table. "It's not even 6 yet. Don't tell me you're going back to Steve's?"

"Ha, no," Chloe rolled her eyes.

Natasha looked through her phone again. "Well, I've got no death threats sent. You?"

"No, I checked."

"Then it might be safe to say mission accomplished," Natasha smirked.

"Yeah, I guess," Chloe said pretty quickly and made to open the door.

"What's up with you?" Natasha stopped her again. "Thought you'd be more happy or something?"

"No, yeah, of course I am," Chloe nodded. "Who knows, if they're eager to catch up on wasted time, we might end up with a super-soldier-half-human-half-Celessian baby 9 months from now! Whom — by the way — I," she pointed at herself, "will be the godmother to."

"Tell you what, I'll gladly step aside if you tell that to Seren's face," Natasha said, standing up from the couch. "And Steve's."

"Don't feel like dying yet, thanks." Chloe opened the door, about to step out when Natasha called her.

"Where are you going?" Natasha frowned. "If you're not heading back to Steve's, then where to? Are you wearing Seren's clothes? Bit small for you, don't you think?"

Chloe tugged on her shirt. It barely covered her waist. "Give me a break, I'm like 4 inches taller than Seren. I'm surprised her pants fit me and even then they're a bit snug."

"Where are you going?"

"On a walk, sheesh. What is this? Twenty-one questions?" Chloe didn't stick around and headed out.

Even then, she continued to see the same images in her head, hearing her screams.

~0~

She was doing everything she could to free her mind. Meditation, counting, stretching — it didn't work.

Chloe sat down on the grassy ground and leaned against a tree. She groaned. She was going to go crazy if she didn't get any sleep soon. She balled her fists and pressed them above her head.

You need to sleep. I also need to get my shit together.

"Well, well, well, the not-running girl around here — again?"

Chloe lowered her hands and opened her eyes just as Sam was walking over. "Sam, hey…" She was about to pull herself up bit Sam made a gesture that she stay there.

"What are you doing here? I thought you don't run?" Sam set his hands on his waist. "Or did Steve drag you out here again?"

"Nah, he's busy this morning," Chloe shrugged. "It's just me today."

"And you ran?"

"Hey, I don't appreciate the tone there…" Chloe mock-glared at Sam, making him laugh.

"Sorry, last time I heard you weren't the running kind. Almost thought you'd murder Steve that day."

"I would, but my best friend would be pretty pissed then — it's a whole thing."

Sam chuckled again. "Alright, so why are you here then? The real reason, because I'm not buying the 'I came for a walk'."

"So do you just think I'm fucking lazy or something?" Chloe made a face.

"I think you look like someone who could do with some rest..." Sam remarked, leaving Chloe quiet for a moment. "I know the faces — I see them all the time down at the center."

"Right..." Chloe sighed.

"You okay?" Sam asked her gently, but not at all prying. Chloe figured he had tons of experience with that too.

"Yeah..." she leaned her head against the tree, bending one leg up. "It's just been a hard couple of nights. I keep, uh, having bad dreams." At least she hoped that they were just dreams. She didn't forget the fact she saw the bomb coming on the Lemurian ship.

"What do you do for work again?" Sam said.

"SHIELD, like Steve. There's a lot of things I see and sometimes it just gets to me. Nothing new."

"For some reason, I don't quite buy it..." Sam remarked, earning a glare from Chloe. "You're out here, early, and without your track-star friend. You don't want him to see you."

Chloe swallowed. "I like being alone. For your information, I actually do a lot of my mission solo."

"Oh, age doesn't deceive me," Sam said, hands raised in front of him. "Age doesn't matter when you're skilled. But it does lead to a higher risk of getting hurt. Bet SHIELD doesn't know about this, right?"

"Seriously, you know everything or something?" Chloe cocked her head to the side. Sam smirked.

"Call it experience."

Chloe groaned. "Trust me, you don't have experience on this matter. Nobody does."

"Try me," Sam said, and began to sit down on the grass in front of Chloe. She lifted an eyebrow at him, not quite believing he would give her the time of day for this stuff.

"You're a weird kind of guy, Sam Wilson," she said.

"Yeah," Sam half smiled at her. "But I'm a good listener too."

"I'm sure that you are..." nodded Chloe, "But my stuff, it's a whole thing and...I don't even tell my friends about it. No offence but I barely know you."

Instead of being offended, Sam laughed. "Well, sometimes it's actually easier to tell your problems to a stranger. C'mon, try it. What's the worst that could happen?"

"You could send me to the psych ward."

Sam smirked. "Try me."

Chloe raised an eyebrow at him. She didn't expect his determination but maybe he did have a point. She had the worst trouble trying to come clean to Steve, Seren, Natasha and just about anyone else. Tony was easier because she didn't see him every day...

Maybe this guy's smarter than he looks, she thought. She met Sam's gaze and smirked. "If you send me to the psych ward, I'll kick your ass."

Sam chuckled. "Lay it on me."

~ 0 ~

When Seren woke up, she was in the best of moods. Granted, she was still a little sleepy when she felt a kiss in the crook of her shoulder, but she would make an exception.

"Good morning to you too, lovey," she turned in bed with a grin to see Steve already looking a her.

"You're cheerful even in the morning..." he noted.

Seren watched him reach a hand on her cheek. "That a bad thing?"

"Not at all. Chloe's not a morning person. I'm used to the morning grumps."

Seren laughed lightly. "Yeah, well, not with me — at least when I get my full sleep. Although, with my schedule, that doesn't happen a lot. Anyways, good morning."

"Good morning." Steve rubbed gentle circles on Seren's cheek, just taking the moment in. Just as he neared her lips for a kiss, he heard a quiet grumble of a stomach. He pulled back, meeting Seren's gaze, and chuckled as she groaned.

"And leave it to me to ruin the moment!" She pulled the covers over her face.

"What are you talking about, Seren? Trust me, nothing can ruin this moment." Steve gently pulled the covers down, though it was a momentary tugging match between him and Seren. Ultimately, he won and he was able to see her face again. "It sounds like you need some breakfast. You didn't actually eat dinner last night, did you? At the event?"

Seren shook her head. "You stopped me from having drinks, remember?"

"Oh, so now it's my fault?" Steve laughed. "Well, since it's my fault then, let me take you to breakfast! A date."

Seren nodded right away. She really was hungry (and she may have worked an appetite). "I'll have to borrow clothes from Chloe..."

Steve's brows raised when he remembered the state of her satin blue dress that was in the living room. "I will — I will definitely get you a new one. Sweetheart, I'm so sorry—"

Seren grabbed the sides of his face and kissed him. "I'm not," she whispered. "Let's see what Chloe has in the closet. You want to help me?" She smirked seeing how quickly the red tint spread across Steve's face.

The two ultimately got out of bed to get dressed and ready to head out. Seren found a dress amongst Chloe's things that she could more or less wear. It was slightly bigger than her normal size but decent. The shoes were a bit more difficult but she managed.

"You look adorable," Steve laughed when she came out into the living room. The dress was big, period.

Seren groaned. "I know it fits weird. Why is Chloe so frikin tall? She's like a pipe-cleaner with blonde hair!"

"You really do look adorable," Steve insisted as he grabbed her hand and pressed a kiss on the back of it. "I'm thinking cinnamon rolls. I do owe you some from last night."

"That sounds great to me!" Seren nodded quickly.

With that decided, they headed out of the apartment. Just as they were coming into the hallway, one of the other tenants was coming down the opposite end.

"Morning, Kate," Steve politely greeted the woman.

"Morning Ste—" Kate stopped in her tracks when she met Seren's gaze. The latter froze as well.

As surprised as Seren was, confusion soon seeped through when she realized what Steve had called the woman. "Hold on, Ka—"

"Nice to meet you, I'm Kate." The woman held her hand out to shake with Seren.

With brows pinched together, Seren slowly shook Kate's hand. "Seren...?"

Kate seemed to swallow hard, though she quickly smiled at the two. "You guys heading out?"

Steve nodded. "Breakfast. Did you just get back from a shift?"

"Mhm..." Kate said. Her eyes would flicker to Seren every so often.

"Kate's a nurse," Steve told Seren, "And about the only friend I have in the building."

"Mhm..." Seren hummed, "Nurse." Kate ducked her head.

"You must be tired, Kate. We'll see you later," Steve said and started leading Seren down the hall.

Seren looked over her shoulder and saw 'Kate' getting her keys out. "Hey Steve, I forgot to grab my phone. Can I go back quickly?"

"I'll get it for you, sweetheart," Steve said, dropping a kiss on her temple.

Seren stopped him from leaving. "Actually, I can get it. It's fine."

"But I—"

"I can get it, Steve, it's fine," Seren smiled. "Keys?"

Steve reluctantly handed her the keys to the apartment, still volunteering to go get her phone for her. Seren assured him that she could do it and she would catch up with him downstairs.

As soon as he was going down the stairs, Seren was heading back to the apartment. It seemed like Kate had overheard because she stood by her apartment door...waiting. When she saw Seren, she leaned off the door and walked to meet Seren halfway.

"I didn't know you were back in town," Kate said, taking note of the odd dress on Seren. She was pretty sure it was Chloe's.

Seren instinctively tugged on her dress as if it was anything close to being short. "I came back a few days ago to present the new team I created in London." Seren leveled a hard look on the woman. She was familiar with 'Kate', crossed paths occasionally but not enough to be on a friendship basis. "Did Fury post you here?" She went straight to business, and she wasn't happy about it.

Kate closed her mouth and just nodded.

Seren's lips curled down into a frown. "And Chloe?"

"She knows who I am. Natasha too."

"And they didn't tell Steve anything?"

"Fury gave the order, Seren. You know how it goes."

"I do but this isn't any ordinary agent, Sharon." Seren rubbed her fingers against her temples. "Steve has never trusted SHIELD to begin with and when he finds out that Fury put a frikin bodyguard next door to him—"

"He can't know about this," Sharon said, shaking her head. "He thinks Fury stopped."

"Stopped?" Seren made a face and before she could ask what Sharon had meant, she got a delightful piece of news.

"Fury had Steve's apartment bugged."

"Bugged?" Seren brought a hand over her chest, feeling absolutely mortified. "Like—like the whole apartment?"

Sharon nodded. "But Chloe took them down. Fury was not happy about it."

Suddenly, Seren forgave Chloe for absolutely everything she'd ever done in the past. She would just die if that apartment had been bugged.

"Chloe negotiated with Fury about this stuff, alright? You can be mad all you want but I'm just following orders from Fury. If you're worried that I'll say something about you guys—"

"I don't care," Seren said flatly. "Fury has nothing to do with what Steve and I do, okay? You report what you gotta report." She turned to leave when Sharon called her back.

"Wait! Are you going to tell Steve?"

"Uh, I sort of have to!" Seren snapped. "Steve hates being lied to and I don't exactly like it either!"

"Seren, if you tell him who I am, he'll be furious!"

"I'll talk to him, I know what it's like following orders. It'll go back to Fury."

"And Chloe," Sharon pointed out. "She's known the whole time."

Seren shook her head. No, she didn't want Steve to be upset with Chloe but she didn't want to be part of the unnecessary lie. It was so pointless having a bodyguard. Fury was being ridiculous.

"Seren, please..." Sharon said, looking genuinely fearful of the matter.

Seren sighed. "I'm sorry, but I'm telling him. I can't lie to him — not anymore. I'll take the heat from Fury but trust me, he'll have a lot more coming from Steve than you will from them both. I'll make sure of that." She turned away again and went to catch up with Steve downstairs.

~ 0 ~

As much as they ate at the pastry shop as well as having samples — Seren was guilty of beating Steve in that aspect — they decided to bring back another box of cinnamon rolls to continue munching on at home. All throughout their date, Seren tried finding the right moment to tell Steve about Sharon and what Fury had ordered her to do. She didn't want to ruin their perfect morning, especially not with SHIELD business. But apparently, Steve knew her better than she thought.

They had just returned to the apartment when he brought up her strange, shifty feet.

"My feet aren't shifty," Seren argued weakly. "And even if they happened to be, it's because these are Chloe's shoes."

Steve chuckled at her. He dropped the box of cinnamon rolls on the coffee table. "Maybe, but you're still acting weird. Did I do something? Did you change your mind?"

"No, of course not!" Seren exclaimed. What she wasn't going to allow was for SHIELD to ruin something so good between them. "Come here..." She took his hands and sat down on the couch together. "I, uh, I need to tell you something but...it's...it's not going to make you happy."

"And it's not about us...?" Steve needed to make sure that nothing had changed between them. Anything else didn't matter.

"It's not," Seren assured him again. "You, um, you know that neighbor of yours? Kate?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah, what about her?"

"I really hate to be the one to tell you this, and honestly it makes me feel like a snitch but—"

"Is there something going on with Kate? I-I don't understand—"

"She's a SHIELD agent, Steve," Seren blurted. She squeezed his hands while he reacted. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry to tell you but I can't — I can't lie to you. It feels so wrong after everything and I—"

"She's a SHIELD agent?" Steve said slowly, eyes flickering towards his door. "Kate?"

"Her name's actually Sharon..."

"Sharon?"

Seren nodded.

"Did—why? I don't..." Seren saw the exact moment it donned on Steve and braced herself for his true reaction. "It was Fury wasn't it?" His voice hardened. Seren nodded. "What? She's supposed to be my babysitter?"

"I know it's irritating but you shouldn't get upset with Sharon — or even Chloe, or Natasha—"

"They both knew!?" Steve gawked. "Are you kidding me!?"

Seren squeezed his hands again. "They were following orders, Steve. Fury was the one who commanded it."

"Of course!" Steve scowled. "You know, I'm getting real tired of Fury and all his secrets. And Chloe — and Natasha — they just keep secrets so easily and I—"

"I know, I know," Seren sighed. "But it comes with the job and it sucks but it's the truth. I'm sorry."

"What? Seren, it's not your fault. You weren't even here..." And for that matter, Steve tried his best to calm down. As angry as he was, it had nothing to do with Seren. "I'm gonna have a word with Fury next time I see him..."

"Please don't get into arguments because of this..." Seren could only plead at this point. "I know it's irritating but—"

"It's for another moment," Steve said, deciding to push the matter away. "Right now...you're here, and I want to take full advantage of that."

"Are you — we could go to SHIELD right now if you want? I can come with you and we can—"

Steve was shaking his head already, refusing the idea. "I am not going to give SHIELD any of my time when you're around." He pulled his hands out from hers and slid them over her face. He had priorities now, and he was learning from past mistakes. He would not waste anymore of his time. "Besides, the cinnamon rolls might get cold..." He pressed a kiss on her lips.

"Well...who can deny a kiss..." Seren sought out another kiss from him, and got one...and then two...

Before they knew it, they were lost in a series of kisses.

"Mm, the cinnamon rolls?" Seren murmured, bringing her hands over his on her face.

"Right..." Steve leaned back, clearing his throat. He'd left the box on the table and grabbed it.

"Oh! Chloe's chocolates, remember?" Seren spotted the box of chocolates she'd left on the table last night. "Good thing we can take the sugar, right?"

Steve chuckled. "I'll say."

Seren opened up the box of chocolates and was delighted to see a dozen little pieces assorted inside. "Where to start, hmm?"

Steve watched her go through a process just to pick one piece. She was so adorable...

"Chloe's too lucky," Seren said after taking a bite. "Girl gets gifts left to right from admirers."

"Oh, I've noticed," hummed Steve. Even though Chloe was always in and out of D.C., he was often around her when she was being flirted with or given the occasional gift. It was bemusing to see such straightforwardness but Chloe seemed quite at home with it.

"She's got the Angel face, you know?" Seren shook her head. "She used to be head cheerleader in high school and I'm sure a popular girl too."

"I remember those girls, sans the cheerleaders. Those were hard to talk to…of course none of them were ever really in the mood to talk to me."

Seren scooted herself closer to him. "I think you and I would've been good friends if we were in school together."

Steve would have loved the idea but given his history, he doubted it would happen. "I don't know about that…"

"I'm sure of it. Those eyes of yours, one charming smile, the 'ma'am' thing and I would've been all yours." Seren popped in another chocolate piece.

"Really?" He was already smiling at her with fondness. None of those traits were enhanced with the super serum.

"Mhm. They're my favorite things about you!"

"Things would've been very different if you'd been around back then." The first thing Steve thought of was the horrible double-dates Bucky always set him up on. Of course then he realized how nervous he'd be having an actual date with Seren in those days.

"What?" Seren raised an eyebrow at him once his thoughts started seeping through his face. "You wouldn't have liked me?"

"What?" Steve laughed. "Are you kidding me? I was just thinking how nervous I'd be asking you out on a date."

Seren cocked her head. "Seriously?"

"You better believe it. I'm sure I'd be fumbling over my words — don't be fooled, I might be doing that in the future too."

"Duly noted." It was Seren's turn to laugh.

"That's funny to you?"

"Kind of, yeah…but sweet too!" Seren cleared her throat after swallowing another chocolate piece. She decided to try one of their cinnamon rolls instead.

Steve wrapped an arm around her waist as she took one cinnamon roll from the box. He imagined all the dates they would have with cinnamon rolls and grinned from ear to ear.

"Oh gosh, they're so good..." Seren hummed, "I love them!"

"I can tell," Steve chuckled. Seren flushed and tried to slow down on her eating. "Keep eating, sweetheart. They're for you." He leaned over and kissed her forehead

Seren cleared her throat again, feeling like something had gotten stuck. She started rubbing circles on her chest, and coughed.

"You okay?" Steve watched her for a moment.

"Yeah," she cleared her throat. "Um, I just…" She lowered the cinnamon roll in her hand, and took in a breath only to come halfway. She shifted on the couch to try and get a better position to take in a bigger breath.

Steve grew concerned the more he watched her continue to take these breaths only halfway. She let her cinnamon roll drop on the ground suddenly and tried taking in an even bigger breath but, just like before, she couldn't do it.

"Okay, Seren, what's wrong?" Steve didn't know whether to help move her to an easier breathing position or anything else.

"I-I don't know but I can't…" Seren started clutching her neck, mouth wide open and gasped for breath. "I can't breathe! Steve, I can't breathe!"

[salvatoreren]

I finally watched AOT's last episode and frankly, I am not okay, I have been sobbing a river oh my fucking god.

Anyways, it was really good, as expected of MAPPA anyway, I was pretty much crying the whole episode actually.

I have complaints, mostly because of the not included anime, little things like not having the flashbacks of Armin of reading a book in the rain, the squirrels etc. etc. I would have love to see them in the market and the way to the boy who sought freedom, goodbye was not implemented, I WAS WAITING FOR THAT COME ON

The anime only scenes were good too, like Levi giving food to the refugees, falco and gabi, i wish we saw their outfits tho, they slayed with that one.

the way they played 13 no fuyu, im killing myself, ive been listening to that shit since 2022 which mind you was when i was active once more in aot, the fucking flashbacks my god, that was so tragic RAHHH

i also saw aot's op, EREN WITH A BOW? EREN WITH A BOW!!! MIND YOU I JUST FINISHED WATCHING THE HUNGER GAMES SO IMMEDIATELY IM LIKE YES YES IT'S GIVING KATNISS EVERDEEN, WITH WHAT HIM BEING HUMANITY'S HOPE, ESP WITH THE FIRE COMING OUT OF IT FORMING A BIRD

THE SAME BIRD WE SAW ON S4 ENDING 1, oh my god, the opening was really cool omg, it perfectly showcased eren's journey, what he went through, despite being absent in the final chapters, it still showed Eren was still the protagonist...Which isayama did not understand when he made 139

Yes, I am bitter still with the ending, no, I am not hearing anyone out and no, I am not going to pour my disappointments with it STILL, here because yeah.

It's such a shame that's the last and final time we'll ever see it, devastating tragedy omg.

ARMIN AND EREN'S FINAL INTERACTION, IM GLAD THEY MADE THEM HOLD HANDS, THANK YOU MAPPA, PLS THE WAY THEY'LL BE TOGETHER FOREVER AND WILL BE WAITING FOR EACH OTHER IN HELL, GAGGED, IM DEAD, MY ROMAN EMPIRE FOR REAL

Now that's out of the way.

It's been a long and fun ride, regardless, the final season has been going for what three years, i've been with this series for three years, it was fun really it was, this series took such a simplistic and cliched approach then twisted into something more complex and truly gutwrenching. 2020 was nothing without AOT, in my opinion, watching AOT broadened my media consumption, yanked me into the anime world and i already have so many fandoms i'm in.

2020 was a hard time too, i couldn't have done it without this bloody series, god, i remember aboarding the train hype, everything was everywhere, fics, art, videos, memes etc. All those I read influenced my writing style, all those theories made me think more critically, those memes and videos of it made me laugh. It's funny how a series like this one comforted me so much.

I remember being so traumatized by the first episode i'm like who the fuck would ever like this series with this much blood and that night i immediately searched for eren fics because i was like who is this boy i like him, i fucking dreamt of the beast titan, all those nights racing with my sister who could finish the series first, i literally woke up at 4 just to watch it before she could.

Fucking terrified which of my favorite characters were going to die next, literally sobbing over armin's death, god and the mindfuck with Marley and Eldians and Subjects of Ymir in the fray oh my god.

Can I just say, I wouldn't be who I was without AOT? Even with my cynical behavior, it's all because of it.

2021 who i never fail to reiterate and think fondly is good because of AOT as well, I figured wow, the final season is coming back, I should rewatch it again and so the hyperfixation began, i was sick too, almost dying too actually, dengue is dangerous and it was just a fond memory because i was watching aot and i acted like i never had watch these scenes in my life and despite feeling like dying i felt okay.

I was so batshit crazy when part 2 came out, that was the one that was actually peak AOT don't lie, I was literally screaming like i was giving birth OVER AN OPENING AND AN ENDING, i'll never forget any of it.

When I cried watching the whole episode, it really just occurred to me that this is really the end for AOT, i was only ever able to go through it because I have the anime and it what really kept the whole fandom alive, the anime's honestly the reason why it had this many fans as you can see.

And again the way it's heartwrenching for it to just be a simple series and then it's full blown war, jean and reiner holding out to each other, remembering how they used to be close and comrades then betrayals and war happened and it's all ruined.

The devastating realization of seeing the last few panels animated, watching the end flash through the screen, realizing there was nothing out of this now, no more next episodes, no more hype, it's gone and it's so devastating because how happy it made you, the way you'll never see these characters again, only in rewatches or art. But it's not the same.

I admit I don't feel as hyperfixated over it now, after getting burnt out of it last year, even good things go badly sadly and i was just here for eren now, but doesn't change the fact this series has nurtured my quarantine, i grew up with this series even if it was only recent, who changed the trajectory of my life and had me find my paths.

I'll never forget these characters who made my life, who brought life to the story, even if they were just moved by the plot now, i'll always have a soft spot for AOT, i will always love it, regardless how much i hate it, there will always be fondness within it.

It's kind of weird, really to see Levi who has done so much to the fandom just by existing and being drawn and animated now cease to exist? I suppose, looking at him feels weird like imagine comparing 2014 levi to 2023 levi now omg, that's where you really begin to realize how much time has passed and how much AOT has evolved AGAIN JKSDHJ

well, i'm still on eren's side, still hate what happened to him but i'll always love him, he is such an important character to me, i don't think i truly ever loved someone like him despite representing the total opposite of me, he just had that charm i suppose, his views are so hauntingly beautiful, idealistic, him representing hope, despite what he did, in the end he did what he could for himself and for his people IN MY HUMBLE ONION

eren yeager i'll always love you

i'm kinda scared what would happen to this fandom now, will it die now? Will it live? I doubt, I haven't even finished my eren fic and lol, either way i hope someone will still enjoy AOT, i hope still there will be new watchers.

This is long but this is just how I really feelt about AOT which I wholeheartedly do love and cherish with all the memories and the pain it gave.

Thank you Isayama for this world, for these characters, for these mindblowing revelations about war, life and freedom, for the heartaches and the joy.

Thank you WIT for raising AOT and truly breathing life to it, for garnering fans for it to be more appreciated.

Thank you MAPPA for continuing WIT's legacy, you are not the same but still delievered, thank you for carrying the final season and the fandom on your back, may you sleep well and have your deserved pay.

Thank you for the voice actors who breathed those memorable lines to be used in edits.

Thank you Linked Horizon for coming back, aot was iconic because of your openings.

Thank you AOT for everything.

[x-authorship-x]

Hi Torship 💛 you have ficd for Tokoyami (mha) and Shisui, assuming they're your series favs... What other favs do you have? I don't know if you love any character like you love shisui tho? ;D hard to imagine

Have a good day/night!

Hey, Anon!

I have a lot of series that I like, fandoms that I browse over like popping your head in a gallery to admire the view and not read the labels, but only a few characters I am pretty hardcore for...!

Shisui

We been knew. I don't really know how I found myself quietly determined to dominate his character tag but life works in mysterious ways. He was a possible love interest for my SIOC back in the day and then... We spiralled, massively. I liked his character so much that I turned to my Beta one day and said 'why isn't there a Shisui time travel fic, one thats simple but impactful?' and she shrugged and told me why I didn't try my hand at it myself, and that's how In The Eye of the Beholder started. The first of...many. I think we're at around 20 Shisui-centric fics posted? And endless ideas 🤡 The OG blorbo

Obi (Akagami no Shirayuki/AnS)

Oh my god Obi. You guys don't realise everything I have bottled up inside of me, but Obi gets me almost at the same level as Shisui, I just never posted much. The AnS fandom is smaller and idk in a weird way I'd feel more out of place there because, with Naruto fics, you're kinda sheltered by the crowd? We all deal with self consciousness, I guess. Obi unlocks something in me. Like with Shisui, I can ship him with almost anyone because I'm ace and romance is nice to read but not the end of the world, you know? It's always going to be a platonic relationship that rules my fics, I can't help it. But Obi? His love for Shirayuki just turns me into this puddle of emotionally complicated goo 😵

For Bnha....

You're not wrong that there's a reason that Tokoyami ended up as my first character-centric foray into this fandom, but it's not at all the same as the previous two. I have a lot of loves in BnHa. Ochako, Momo, Kirishima, Todoroki, Dabi, Hawks, Mirko, Best Jeanist, Ingenium (Tensei), and I have a protective streak a mile wide for Tamaki (I have a lot of thoughts, on...all of it tbh) but I'm very happy to rotate across basically the whole cast from BnHA because a good fic is a damn good fic! And the artists are also extremely talented~

Narutoverse

I want to swing by Narutoverse again, just to reiterate that I may be welded to Shisui but I do love a massive number of characters, mainly the idea/potential of them than canon reality (as in most cases, I'm not a "love letter to canon" author) but it's a love all the same. Tobirama, Gai, Lee, Tsunade, Kakashi (squad 2 tbh, i picked my favs for that group), and I've grown so much fonder of other characters that I never paid much mind to (mainly Uchiha or Akatsuki etc) as just a reader!

Other fandoms

I'm... I'm a binge reader without much in the way of pickiness for a lot of fandoms. Les Mis, MCU, HP, LotR/Hobbit (I'm not even loyal to Aragorn/Arwen, this is how flexible I am in the face of good fandom content).

I have a huge preference for BAMF Din, I had to stop watching season three of the mandalorian because it was frustrating me so much lol

My favorite PJO character by a long long shot is Percy

I get annoyed when I remember that they didn't make the RDJ Sherlock Holmes movies a polytriad

I'm Merlin trash in the year 2023

I'm too scared to start One Piece 🥴

If I had the time, memory space, and energy to swallow Star Wars lore, I would write a huge fic where Finn is the protagonist. No hate to any character but I want what I want

I think I'm running out of fandoms and, therefore, character fixations 😂 you're right tho, Anon, that I don't exactly have a designated 'Shisui' level of love in each fandom!

Thank you! Have a good day/night too✨