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just-aake · 4 months

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Chasing Shadows

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: A sudden mission on New Year’s Eve brings Natasha face to face with someone from her past.

Warnings: light fluff, light angst

Words: 1410

11:55 P.M.

Surrounded by the lively atmosphere of Times Square, Natasha glances at her watch to check the time before looking around at the excited crowds of people, all waiting for the annual New Year’s Eve Ball Drop to start.

Laughter and cheers fill the air as she withdraws to a more secluded spot, raising her hand to her earpiece to speak through the comms.

“I’m at the location.”

SHIELD had intercepted a suspicious encrypted message a few moments ago, indicating that something was set to happen in the area tonight. Being the only one available nearby in such a short time, Natasha took on the assignment.

After a brief static pause, Maria's voice comes through the comms.

“It’s a shame that this had to interrupt your holiday evening.”

Taking a moment to scan her surroundings, Natasha replies nonchalantly, “I could say the same for you. Besides, it’s fine. It’s not like I had any plans.”

A curious hum comes in response before Maria asks, “No special someone to begin the new year with?”

At her words, the face of someone from years ago unexpectedly crosses Natasha’s mind, accompanied by flickers of memories recounting moments filled with late-night escapades and adrenaline-filled touches.

One particular memory stands out–of a night similar to tonight, atop a rooftop, shielded from prying eyes.

Two people shared a rare moment of vulnerability, and against her better judgment, she wished life had played out differently for them—an unrealistic hope.

11:56 P.M.

“No,” Natasha replies to Maria’s question as she pushes away those thoughts and refocuses her attention back on the crowd.

Amidst all the joyous people, Natasha finally spots the individual they were seeking—a slippery criminal with a history of working for a notorious crime family that once controlled these streets.

The members of that family were taken down and arrested by an undercover SHIELD operation years ago, leading many of their associates to either scatter or continue their own shady activities in the city.

This particular individual belongs to the latter group and has proven to be very elusive, successfully evading capture from SHIELD multiple times.

“I’ve got eyes on the suspect.”

As she utters these words, the man locks eyes directly with her, as though she is the intended target instead.

Discreetly, he reaches into his coat, revealing a mysterious device with an ominous, glowing red button at its center. He briefly flashes it at her before tucking it away and swiftly turning around to disappear into the crowds.

11:57 P.M.

Immediately, Natasha gives chase, her eyes fixed on the suspect darting through the masses of people. With adept skill, she effortlessly maneuvers through the crowds, rapidly closing the distance.

As the suspect pushes through the final layers of people, Natasha spots another figure emerging from the shadows toward the suspect.

In a swift and seamless exchange, the mysterious device changes hands from the original suspect to the newcomer.

Natasha’s eyes narrow suspiciously at the action when suddenly, the two figures split off in opposite directions, causing her to realize what that means.

Either she continues chasing the elusive criminal they've sought for so long, or she goes after the person now in possession of the unknown device, which may pose a potential threat to everyone in the area.

Without missing a beat, Natasha alters her course to pursue the newcomer. Surging forward, she vaults over one of the crowd barriers, tackling the figure mid-stride, and sending them both crashing to the ground.

The impact elicits gasps of shock from the few people nearby as Natasha swiftly recovers, pinning the suspect to the pavement.

The newcomer wears a mask over their eyes, concealing their identity from anybody who looks at them.

Not from her though.

Natasha is taken aback as her lips part in surprise. She easily recognizes those particular sets of eyes, especially when accompanied by the knowing smirk forming on their face in response to her reaction.

11:58 P.M.

Natasha is still rattled by the revelation of the figure before her, allowing them to seize the opportunity to escape from their pinned position, forcefully knocking the Black Widow aside before swiftly resuming their sprint.

Partially recovering from the shock, Natasha's instincts kick in, and she rushes to pursue, her mind still grappling with disbelief.

It can't be. That thought repeats in Natasha’s mind as she follows the figure into a condemned building site.

She recognizes the structure immediately, both from that particular memory of the past as well as its status as an old building that fell victim to one of the Avengers' numerous battles.

Natasha enters the ruined building through the recently shut side door, finding herself in the emergency stairway that miraculously remains intact.

Glancing up, she spots the suspect running up the stairs, quickly ascending to the higher levels of the building.

11:59 P.M.

The anticipated event unfolds outside as the ball at the top of the Times building starts its descent, marking the last minute of the year.

Amidst the beginning of the countdown chorus from the crowds outside, Natasha also starts running up the stairs.

The echoing footsteps of the other person above her drive her to accelerate to catch up, sprinting up the stairs two at a time.

11:59:30 P.M.

Natasha’s heart beats painfully in her chest, and she’s not sure if it’s from adrenaline or from the overwhelming sight of seeing you again—maybe it’s both.

After all, you’ve always had that effect on her.

“Three!” - 11:59:57 P.M.

Bursting through the roof door, Natasha slides to a sudden stop at the edge of the dilapidated floor. Dust rises at her movement, and small rocks roll and tumble over the edge, falling into the gaping hole.

“Two!” - 11:59:58 P.M.

On the opposite side of the large chasm, balancing precariously on the rooftop edge, the suspect stands, hands clasped behind their back, awaiting Natasha's arrival.

“One!” - 11:59:59 P.M.

With her attention now fixed on them, the figure removes the mask covering their eyes with a dramatic flourish, letting it drift off in the wind and fall gracefully towards the cheering crowd below.

12:00 A.M.

The night sky explodes in colorful lights, illuminating your silhouette.

Natasha stands frozen, mesmerized by the sight of you again, with your Cheshire smirk firmly in place as the remnants of the fireworks rain behind you.

It's a perfect reminder of who you are—beautiful yet dangerous.

In one of your hands, you teasingly wave the device with its ominous red glow at Natasha, while your other hand raises to your lips, playfully sending a mock kiss her way.

With a mischievous wink, you suddenly toss the device toward her, the gentle force of your action causing it to barely reach over to her side.

Reacting quickly, she stretches her arm to catch it before it can fall down the hole, pulling herself safely back from the edge once it is in her hand.

Regaining her balance, Natasha's gaze shoots back to you, or where you should've been, but now there's only dust kicked up by the cold wind. Furrowing her brows, she scans her surroundings again but finds no traces of you anywhere.

You've slipped away.

Returning her attention to the device in her hand, Natasha turns it around, removing the back covering.

Now knowing who she is dealing with, she is not surprised when she finds no activation triggers or wiring—just a battery-powered red LED bulb and a piece of paper folded inside.

Natasha raises her hand to her earpiece, activating the comms.

"Hill, the device is a fake. It was all just a wild goose chase."

"And the suspects?"

"Escaped," Natasha replies regretfully, looking back at the empty rooftop space.

"From you? That’s impressive."

Again, Natasha isn't surprised; time in prison clearly hasn't dulled your skills. Though, now, she needs to consider the implications of your unexpected and sudden return to the city.

"Can you check something for me?" Natasha asks into the earpiece.

"Sure, what is it?"

"The confinement statuses of all the members of the L/n family."

Maria lowly whistles before commenting, "Haven’t heard that name in a while. Isn’t that the crime family that you took down during your first solo undercover mission?"

12:01 A.M.

Natasha remains silent at that, her eyes fixated on the piece of paper in her hand. The fireworks illuminate your familiar handwriting periodically against the darkness of the night.

Happy New Year, Natasha Let’s play again soon 🤍

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: Thank you for reading, and an additional special thanks for all who have read any of my other writings this year. I really appreciated all the likes, reblogs, and comments that you have given me (many of you are so sweet and kind for reading most or almost all of the things I wrote). Thank you again, and I hope you all have a happy New Years!

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff

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hummusxx · 4 months

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I Don't care -JB5

parings: Jude Bellingham x fem!reader

summary: It's New Year's Eve in Madrid. Everyone is out having parties and celebrating the new year while u is stuck home sick with the flu. Your boyfriend tries to cheer you up.

Of course. The only handful of days Jude and I can go out together is spent inside on the couch, watching some stupid show. I just had to go and get the flu. My aunt had forgotten to inform everyone that her demon of a child had every sickness known to mankind at Christmas dinner

" Babe get the frown off your face- Everything is alright " Jude tried to reassure me as he was walking towards the couch with a steaming hot bowl of soup.

I look at him in disbelief.

"No Jude. We were supposed to have fun tonight and go out. Not say home and watch this stupid show in clothes that smell like we haven't showered in years." With a frown on my face, I bury my head into the couch cushion.

I start to hear loud bangs and realize that fireworks are going off. I look outside the window with a somber look.

"Um excuse you but The Sopranos is one of the best shows in the world" Jude says offensively as he sets down the bowl.

"-and i wouldn't want it any other way. Just Me and My girl, alone, in pjs, watching a dumb show as u say." he sits next to me, laying his arm around my shoulder and pulling the blanket over him.

"Stop you're going to get sick Jude," I say, as I try and push him to the other side of the couch.

Jude doesn't move any inch. After my pity attempt to move him, he reaches and grabs the bowl on the table and starts to feed me like a mother would her babe.

"Judie I'm not a baby" I whine.

Well, you're my baby" he says, laughing as he watches me frown.

He suddenly puts down the bowl and makes his way into the bedroom.

"Jude where are u going."

"Just a sec" he responds. His voice was muffled by the loud fireworks outside.

He comes back in with a hat and party blower that says,'Happy New Year.'

"Jude what- How did u get this stuff." I say as u sit up from the couch.

Jude moves over to me and puts the hat on my head and the blower in my hand. He walks over to the kitchen and open the fridge.

He grabs 12 grapes for both of us and sits down on the couch.

"I grabbed all this while I was out getting your soup" I stare at him in disbelief. My eyes start to water.

" I know how bad u wanted to go out tonight, so I brought the out to you," he says while turning on the broadcast of the clock in Puerta del sol.

I look at the time, it's 11:57. It's almost the new year.

" Jude"

"mhm" he turns to look at me.

"I love you so much and I'm so grateful for everything that has happened to us this year."

He looks at me and grabs my hands

"Baby you have helped me so much this year and i am forever grateful for u" He Kisses my forehead right at the clock Strucks 12.

The chimes start and we eat the grapes.

We both finish them all in the chimes.

"Happy New year baby' he says as he grabs my head..

"Jude you're going to get sick" i say leaning in

"I don't care."

Hummusxx Corner

heyyy everyonee i hope this was good. I haven't wrote in ages it feels like so im happy to have a new piece out. In Spain, they have a tradition of eating 12 grapes with the 12 chimes of the clock in puerta del sol and if u finish all 12 you will have a good new year full of luck. So since Jude has moved to spain decided to include it in because it just felt right. If u liked it plssss repost or comment. Love yall and byeee

I wanted this to be posted on new years eve BUT I literally can’t wait so here it is early 😉

#hummusxx' corner #jude bellingham #jb5 #new year #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham fluff #jude x reader #football blurb #football #Madrid #sickfic #football fluff #football fanfic

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insomniumstella · 7 months

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spice & honey

bucky x baker!reader

summary: cinnamon buns and wickedly strong coffee must be the only reasons James Buchanan Barnes visits your bakery daily, despite the inconvenience of driving to a small town on the outskirts of Upstate New York. right?

warnings: first dates and crushes (absolutely classified as warnings), mead consumption, a curse word or two, soft!bucky

word count: 4,565

author's note: i've been watching Gilmore Girls a little too much lately (hence the little easter egg). on another note, autumn is my favourite season, so prepared to be sick of James attending harvest festivals and drinking apple cider 🍂🥧🎃

all the stories i've written

September 21st marks the official arrival of Autumn. Though the weather has been rather cheerful lately, today’s air is much crisper and heavier with the promise of looming rain. The streets of Eldermont remain far too green to your dismay, but Spice & Honey—the bakery you’ve owned for the past five years—is rich in shades of marigold and copper. A wide assortment of mugs, mostly in various shapes of pumpkins, and spiced teas, line the shelves, while the fresh jars of apple butter are neatly stacked alongside the register. Besides the usual treats, the glass display teems with seasonal favourite pumpkin tarts and apple cider donuts.

The everlasting chatter of customers and soft sounds of a vintage record you scored at a neighbour’s garage sale just last month saturate the space as you place the second batch of cinnamon rolls on the counter. The clock reads 10:57 AM, and though you’ve been attempting to conceal your excitement, Vivienne could sense it the second you stepped through the door, teasing you about the very special visitor who’s always in need of sugary buns and black coffee at exactly five past eleven.

James Buchanan Barnes is a regular customer, you often argue. The nervous babble, flustered movements, and beaming smiles convey otherwise. And so yes, you might have a little bit of a schoolgirl crush on the freakishly tall, muscular brunette who brings in the latest editions of The Culinary Canvas magazine each Monday and notices the smallest of changes in your recipes. Just maybe, you reluctantly ponder when your thoughts inadvertently wander to that charming grin and baby blue eyes every time you knead the dough for his adored treat — a dessert once reserved for Autumn suddenly available year around.

“Staring at the entrance won’t make time pass quicker,” Vivienne whispers, arranging butterscotch cupcakes by the pumpkin tarts.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whisper back, covering the pans with aluminum foil.

Perhaps hiding the pastries, a favourite amongst Spice & Honey shoppers, is not the best business decision, but Eldermont is merely a small town in Upstate New York. If it wasn’t located a thirty minute drive south of the Avengers compound, most people wouldn’t be aware of its presence in the first place. And besides, everybody in Eldermont is connected to everybody — the town holds no secrets, including the pastries you keep warm and frost fresh.

“The tall, dark, and handsome man,” she points out, “still has a few minutes. Perchance the preparations of Eldermont’s Annual Harvest Festival made it trickier to find parking.” Vivienne turns to you with a mirthful grin, the cupcakes resting perfectly positioned in the glass case. “You should invite him. Heard Brad brewed an incredible batch of apple cider mead this year.”

You sigh, snatching the golden tray out of her grasp. “I’m not asking Bucky out.”

“Ah! Bucky!” The woman’s grin widens. “Forgot his name for a second.” Shades of mischief dance in her tone as she marks Elijah’s, the eccentric owner of Marigold Meadows flower shop across the street, special order of fifty maple bacon BLTs as completed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Only that you mention Bucky at least seven times a day.”

“Seven’s oddly specific,” you note and swiftly, “also I do not,” disagree.

“Bucky smelled great today,” Vivienne mocks your voice, the grin you’ve come to love—and hate—remaining on her features. “Should I add apple to the cinnamon rolls? I wonder if Bucky would enjoy apple cinnamon rolls with brown butter and maple icing unless he’s a creature of habit. Maybe I should suggest a sprinkle of nutmeg in his coffee to test the waters first—“

“Vivienne,” you groan, yet she persists.

“What’s the worst that could happen? Bucky could say no. Bucky could also choose The Sugared Whisk. Bucky wouldn’t. I adore their croissants, but the coffee is terribly weak, and even their tea selection is mediocre. Indigo should include spiced teas. And sure, Luke's doesn't offer spiced teas, but Luke’s sells great coffee and danishes, except the danishes are only available on Wednesdays.” She recites a recent monologue of yours, and if you weren’t mortified, you’d actually be quite surprised at Vivienne’s ability to remember conversations as if they happened minutes ago.

The doorbell chimes before she has the chance to finish, and you’re highly unsure of whether it’s a saved by the bell kind of situation or if you’d rather the floor magically swallow you whole.

“Good morning.” James smiles, and it’s then that you decide you’d rather the floor split open because you’re awfully flustered by his entrance despite secretly anticipating the moment since the sun arose.

“Hiya, Bucky,” she returns the favour, secretly nudging your side. “Have you ever been to the annual Eldermont’s Harvest Festival?”

“Cannot say I have,” he chuckles, breaking eye contact between the two for just a second to glance at her.

Though you’d never admit it aloud, those eyes, baby blue on sunny days and resembling the ocean on the ones of rain, cross your mind more than a pair of eyes should. This infatuation borders on obsessive, you often contemplate. James Buchanan Barnes is an Avenger for heaven’s sake, and you’re almost sure a man of his maturity and composure wouldn’t agree to a date with a baker, a clutz one at that. It’s not that you’d want to, nevertheless. The two of you have a great thing together — you serve coffee, he survives on coffee, and if time allows, the lighthearted conversations you have bring colours to otherwise monotone days.

“The decorations, the food, the people are phenomenal.” You might have to assign the redhead to kneading duty if she’s heading to that territory. “This beauty right here could take you on a real good tour. Eldermont is gorgeous this time of year.” Enjoy kneading bread, Vivi.

“Is it?” James grins, his stare flicking between you and Vivienne.

“Drop dead,” she reiterates, “much like the women.”

“Vivienne,” you suddenly cut in, “the coffee station is out of paper cups. Could you bring some from the back?”

She gives you another grin, less mischievous and more understanding, nodding at Bucky before she disappears into the kitchen. The heavy wooden doors create a boisterous sound once they close, and you couldn’t be happier for a distraction because you cannot look at the brunette just yet. The bakery is sweltering, and your hands are sweaty, and, if it wasn’t evident you’ve been nurturing a crush on James, Vivienne practically plastered a HEAD BAKER IN LOVE WITH SERGEANT BARNES sign out front.

“The station’s out of cups?”

“Yes!” You glimpse behind the shoulder, deciding to keep the lie alive. “Spice & Honey gets busy during the afternoons, and we run out quickly.” The words leave your mouth rushed and a bit muttered, but the effort is there. “Black coffee and a cinnamon bun?”

“It’s a habit,” his smile is as charming as always. James hesitates for a beat, observing you locate the plastic to-go containers. “The festival Vivienne touched on, have you ever been?”

The atmosphere stills for an awkward second as you gawk at him. “Oh, sure,” you answer at last, praying her babbling wasn’t too obvious because you couldn’t fathom Bucky choosing The Sugared Whisk. “Every year since I was four. The festival’s great. Brad brews the best mead, and Johnny, the mayor, is comically strict about the decorations, so it’s all pumpkins, and string lights, and festive garlands,” you mumble, scrambling for the pan and cream cheese frosting. “I’ve even heard whispers of fireworks this year. It’s next Saturday if you want to drop by. Cassie bakes the best apple pies.”

“Better than yours?”

“I don’t serve apple pies,” averting your eyes to study the grinder seems like the best decision to avoid his piercing gaze.

“I’m sure they’d be the best if you did.” Bucky beams, leaning against the counter as he observes you make coffee.

“Thank you,” the expression of gratitude melts into somewhat of a question despite your best attempts at keeping your voice level, “but the pies I bake often turn out horribly wrong. The apples were overcooked, and the dough raw last time I tried.”

“How undercooked?”

“The trash can enjoyed most of it.”

James laughs at that, the sound of it hearty and endearing. “I’m sure it found the pie delicious.” If he’s flirting with you, you can’t tell, and you don’t exactly want to, for expectations are the fool’s hope. “If you’re not terribly busy during the festival,” he speaks after a protracted moment of doubt, “I’d love to take you up on that tour Vivienne mentioned.”

“Tour?” The man in front of you must almost all but hear your heart pounding rapidly inside your chest.

“The tour of mead, pies, and decorations.”

“Oh?” You tinker with a couple napkins, peering at him. “I’m not sure I could give you a real good tour, I’m barely a guide, believe me. I got lost in that new Target on Cedar Lane, and I cannot understand maps, and—“

“I’m asking you out on a date.” Bucky chuckles at your flustered visage, baby blues never once breaking the eye contact.

“Shit,” the curse word leaves your mouth before you can stop it, and you silently reprimand yourself for the rash impulse of colourful words. “Alright.”

The sergeant titters at your sudden reaction, a shy smile dancing on his lips. “We don’t have to do this if you’re uncomfortable. I just thought we might have something between us, chemistry of sorts, and that it might’ve been fun,” he briefly pauses, eyes wild and roaming around your face. “It’s just that Vivienne mentioned Eldermont being gorgeous in the fall, and it got me thinking that I’ve never truly experienced it, because the only thing I visit in this town is your bakery, not that it’s the only place worth visiting—“

“Bucky—“

“There are many stores I should probably check out, and Samuel’s birthday is in a couple of days, which is convenient. I wouldn’t describe Sam and I as the best of pals, but Steve likes him, so I should probably get him a gift.”

“Who’s Samuel?” You ask puzzled, but the flustered soldier standing before you continues to ramble.

“Something small to indicate I remembered but not necessarily care. Something that screams I’m not a total jerk, but you are for reminding the whole compound that your birthday’s on the twenty third. A wooden statue of a bird. Sam likes birds, particularly Redwing, though Redwing’s not technically a bird. A wooden bird statue would certainly insult him, so it’s settled — the plan is to visit Artists & Wood on Land.”

“The shop’s name is Woodland Artistry,” you correct with a gentle smile.

“Right!” James clicks his tongue, studying your softly amused features. “We should probably forget this conversation happened. It was a stupid idea too—“

“Yes,” you interject. “I mean no.” Surely, this scenario is a strange dream that wicked mind of yours created to punish you for the sins you assumably committed in every single one of your previous lives. It’s the only possible explanation for the sergeant’s flustered behaviour. “I would absolutely love to go on a date,” you say and pinch the flesh of your thigh for reassurance, but the scene remains as it was, “with you.”

Gently placing a twenty on the counter, James gleams at you. “I’ve never actually given you my number, have I?”

"No," you shake your head to indicate disagreement, pinching the flesh of your thighs once more. “Only the pleasure of our little chats,” the response makes you wince. The pleasure of our little chats? Something’s definitely wrong with me.

Chuckling, James grasps one of the pens you keep by the cash register and scribbles down a series of numbers on his receipt. "If I don't reply, Steve must be holding me hostage.”

"Duly noted," you grin, folding the piece of paper to tuck it into the back pocket of your denim shorts.

He stands there for a second as if absorbing the situation. “Good. It’s a date, then.” he smiles in the end, taking the coffee and the plastic box, and peeks at you behind his shoulder. “And keep the change, please. These treats of yours are more than worth it.”

A timid smile spreads across your lips at the compliment before you sink your teeth into the soft of your bottom lip, observing the soldier scramble out of the bakery, the phone in his flannel jacket ringing for attention.

“Next time,” the redhead appears beside you once James disappears out of sight with a final wave goodbye, “you should give the man coffee and buns on the house," Vivienne nudges you, "both of them."

A surge of warmth rushes to your cheeks at her innuendo. “It’s great you suddenly possessed the ability to teleport and all, but the dough back there won’t knead itself.”

“No,” she gasps, and you only laugh at her realisation, turning to help the next customer.

It’s a date.

The evening of Eldermont’s harvest festival is pleasant, neither too blazing nor cold, but despite the temperature and the appropriate sundress you’ve chosen for it, you’re on the verge of fainting. I cannot faint on our first date, you think and decide it’s the man next to you’s fault, really. The smell of his cologne is too addicting, the hints of pine and cinnamon in his aftershave too intoxicating. James is a gentleman, which you expected and appreciate, but it’s overwhelming, the way he holds your hand to lead you through crowds and attentively listens to your overdrawn stories about the origins of pumpkin carving. Heavens help me.

“Have you checked out the corn maze yet?” Brad asks cheerfully. He’s surrounded by large beverage urns and stacks of disposable drinkware. “Mary mentioned Elijah’s still in there,” he chuckles, pouring two paper cups full of steaming apple cider mead. “The fool must’ve gotten lost or something.”

“Must’ve,” you glance at him, the corner of your mouth quirking up into a half smile. “Happens every year.”

“The two of you should go,” Brad speaks once again before smiling at Bucky. “It’s a great first date activity.”

James chuckles, and you wonder if he regrets asking you on a date. The small town you call home is ludicrously close, and if Vivienne didn’t spill the beans to Mary as she promised, Mary must’ve spread the ‘rumours’ around herself. The town’s beloved bookshop owner is an incredible woman, but she loves to gossip, and you should’ve expected the second person after Vivienne to consistently insert themselves into your dating life to jump to conclusions. Though the situation isn’t precisely comfortable for you, it must be worse for James. Whilst he has never outright mentioned, the soldier has important reasons to stay under the radar. Bucky has witnessed a lot, horrors you’ve even heard about on the TV, and currently, every resident of Eldermont is aware that James Buchanan Barnes is on a date. With a local baker, nonetheless. Participating in acorn tossing and harvest bingo and conversing with Brad Monty about all kinds of sneaky activities couples get up to in the corn maze. You're certain that James is bound to vanish without a trace due to the town's antics if your diffident and often rather awkward behavior hasn't already scared him away. The anxious parts of your brain have even compiled a mental list of today's disasters:

Johnny wiped his sweaty hands on Bucky’s jacket, realising the blunder only to mumble “I love this jacket, Sergeant Barnes”, and pretending he wanted to initiate a hug before he disappeared.

Cassie offered you a sample of pecan pie, which you eagerly tasted due to Bucky’s “If I had to choose the second best pie after apple, it would be pecan” comment, and completely choked on.

Vivienne located you in the farmer’s market to say “hello”, and persuaded James to purchase a pair of beaded bracelets, the two of you had ridiculed moments earlier, for “every first date needs a souvenir to remember it by”.

James guided you to Mary’s bookstore because you conferred a series of rare hardbacks Mary hides in the back for special customers, and the older woman steered you towards a selection of intimacy guides.

Indigo, The Sugared Whisk owner, pleaded with James for Captain America’s number in the middle of a busy intersection and discussed his “timeless looks” for the next couple of minutes until a car almost struck the three of you.

Elijah phoned you in distress, panicking about “having to live out his best years in a smelly corn maze”, which disturbed the sergeant and resulted in an “Elijah will find the exit eventually” monologue on your side.

You accepted to take a photo of a tourist couple, accidentally dropping the wife’s phone and shattering the screen because James stood so close, your hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

“Thanks, Brad,” you fumble with your wallet, hastily placing a ten on the stand. “See you around.”

“Doll,” Bucky doesn’t move once you attempt to remove him from the nightmare that is the situation the two of you found yourselves in. It gives you a second to evaluate his expression, and much to your surprise, his features are as soft as ever. James is blushing, too. “I wanted to pay for that.”

“You paid for the apple pie,” the words slip past your lips mumbled because the only thing you can truly concentrate on is the fact James is blushing. Blushing as a result of Brad’s stories about couples so in love they simply cannot be bothered to locate the labyrinth’s exit before proving their emotions to the world. Couples that could be the two of you. Possibly. A sane person shouldn’t rush to assumptions unless they earned the sweetest nickname from a dream of a man. You’ve never paid much thought to whether you would enjoy being called a ‘doll’—you do, but you would probably adore every label he’d choose. The notion steers your head toward unexpected and dirty waters, and you couldn’t be happier for Brad’s decision to chime in.

“Cassie outdid herself this year,” he nods. “I’m most definitely going to dream about that blackberry pie tonight.”

“Yes,” James agrees never once breaking the eye contact with you. “The pies were delicious, and it was my pleasure to pay. It was me who demanded a tour.”

“You may pay for the maze then,” you smile at him, “but leave the ten — I’m not that great of a tour guide, and I’m afraid of the dark.”

“Dates should be fun,” James suddenly speaks. “We could’ve skipped the labyrinth.”

The corn maze is high and intimidating, but Bucky’s presence and the soft glow of an orange sunset manage to silence your fears a bit. The passages are almost entirely empty except for the two of you, and each corner you take makes your heart jump at the possibility of encountering spooky surprises.

“This is fun,” you reassure, taking a sip of mead. James shoots you a look you cannot truly decipher, but you decide the meaning is somewhere between worried and teasing. “It is,” you hesitate for a beat. “I just keep remembering the haunted corn maze in Greenwood. They have scare actors there, who jump out of the bushes when you least expect it and completely startle you. Vivienne took me there last year, and I cannot shake the memories.”

The expression on his face melts into sympathy. “If it’s any consolation, I would protect you against all the zombies and monsters this maze might throw at us,” he speaks before, “not that it has any,” adding.

“If theme’s anything to go by, I think we’re OK,” you chuckle at his offer, referring to the cutesy signs and charmingly painted pumpkins scattered throughout the labyrinth, “unless Johnny decided to include a couple gory scenes at the end, though it’d end worse for him than it would for me.”

“Johnny The Mayor?”

“Johnny The Mayor,” you take yet another sip, nodding. The beverage is barely warm twenty minutes into the attraction, providing only the comfort of a soft alcohol tipsiness.

“He’s a charming little fella,” Bucky notes, and you don’t have it in yourself to deny the statement. “I’ve never experienced someone initiating a hug by wiping their hands on my jacket.”

“Sorry,” you offer sheepishly because what could you say after an occurrence so bizarre. Everyone in this town is strange? James must’ve caught on to the fact by this time.

“It’s alright, and besides, I now have a humorous story to recount at parties, which is a first,” he gleams at you. “It may come as a surprise, but I’m not usually the life of it.”

“Can I ask you a question?” You shift to gaze at him before emptying the cup of mead to steady your nerves.

“I don’t promise to answer,” James grins, fiddling with the beaded bracelet, “but yes.”

“Who’s Samuel?”

“That’s your question?” He laughs as his flesh arm slithers to rest upon your waist. At least you think it’s his flesh arm. The man wears gloves whether the sun shines or the rain pours. You’ve seen pictures, though, and read stories of The Winter Soldier in possession of a metal arm. Neither raise concern, not for the reason you’re smitten with Bucky. Rather, because James was manipulated and stripped of free will, and if heaven would descend, perhaps because that metal arm is sinfully attractive. It’s a thought forbidden to be mentioned aloud, for the gloves are a large indicator he’d enjoy staying silent about the matter. “Who’s Samuel?”

“Yes,” you sputter. The butterflies his simple action caused you don’t mention. “I want to hear about this Samuel. I’ve been informed he likes birds, especially Redwing, who’s not technically a bird?”

“The Samuel I was babbling about is Sam Wilson. The Falcon, if you’re a fan of CNN,” James teases, steering you into the left pathway of the maze. Despite your instinct to choose right, you stay silent. “Redwing’s a drone of sorts Sam uses on missions, and, this is a direct quote, for surveillance. I despise the thing.”

“If we get lost, forget the second date,” you playfully threaten. Though the coziness of his body pressed to yours is intoxicating, it does nothing to ease the goosebumps painted on your skin, and as the sky bleeds in shades of crimson and purple, the sun melts into the horizon, teasing you for forgetting a sweater. “I would’ve categorised holding a grudge against an object as below you.”

“If the shoe fits,” he chortles, leading you down a long passage before abruptly stopping. Hesitating for a beat, he drapes the flannel jacket you’ve come to love on the man around your body. The garment is red and weighty, and it smells of James. The gesture makes your heart swell with admiration, but you ignore it. Dates should be approached with a blank slate because expectations are easily shattered. “I shouldn’t deliver Steve that woman’s phone number, should I?” Bucky’s arm finds your waist again.

Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, “on the bright side, Indigo is quite a pleasant woman,” you verbalise the thought. James observes your expression, baby blues studying the same features he cannot resist thinking about at nightfall. Blood rushes to his cheeks at the notice of your fingers on his lower back, the heat of your skin piercing through his charcoal henley. “She’d certainly treat Captain America right. On the downside,” you pause, “Indigo is the exact opposite of Steve as the media portrays him. Come to think about it, both of us are.”

“How so?”

“The media portrays supersoldiers as courageous, but Indigo and I once had to call Luke to get rid of a teeny spider. Steve’s active in politics, whilst we often skip the town’s meetings—“

“Eldermont holds town meetings?” James chuckles, subconsciously drawing you in closer.

“Once a month, always on the first Tuesday,” you gleam at him before drawing in a deep breath to calm your violently beating heart. “Last time, we discussed the very pressing issue of Halloween decorations. Johnny insists every business on the main street must participate in the festivities. Indigo and I escaped out the back before the mayor could finish his speech. At the least, Steve would’ve stayed in that meeting, and at the most, he would’ve managed it.”

“People do say opposites attract.”

“Heard that before,” you agree. The loose strand of Bucky’s auburn hair tempts you to tuck it behind his ear, but you halt the impulse of committing such a ludicrous decision. “It must be true because you drink coffee black, and I prefer lattes. You have cinnamon buns for breakfast, and I, if time would be gracious enough for breakfast, would choose danishes.”

“The jury’s decided, then.” The corners of his mouth quirk up into a lazy and wickedly attractive smile, and, you almost wonder if Bucky’s aware of the effect he has on your body because if he isn't, your buckling knees must’ve given it away. “Opposites do attract.” His wildly confident attitude is a new discovery, but you decide you like it. “It would be a shame to ignore matters of the universe.” Confidence is a good shade on him.

“Is this your way of asking me on a second date?” You tease the man, memorising the pink hues veiling his cheekbones.

James guides you around the corner, observing the corn maze’s exit, and halts his movements. “Only if the lady agrees,” he shifts to stand before you, catching your forearms in his gloved hands, “which I’m sincerely hoping she does.”

Resting your arms on his shoulders, you gift yourself a quick moment to explore his features — the stubble gently lining his sharp jaw, the little scar above his eyebrow, and the red lips you, despite hiding it, wanted to kiss since he first visited Spice & Honey. “The lady would love to go on a second date.”

“Good,” an emotion you cannot comprehend waltzes in his eyes, but, for the sake of your composure, you abstain from thinking it could possibly be lust. “The gentleman is looking forward to it.” There's an argument happening inside him, you can sense it by the way he keeps drawing you closer until the space between your bodies is virtually erased, but retains his posture straight and almost rigid. The weight of should he or should he not lingers in the air around you before James catches your stare and smiles timidly, shattering the flicker of hope you have for him to kiss you. You don’t exactly yearn for him to kiss you. In theory, kiss-less first dates are a great idea, paving the way for deeper conversations and a closer bond. They build anticipation. Anticipation is good, you ponder for a second, but all you can truly focus on is whether James would taste like apple cider mead or the sugary desserts you two savoured earlier. “The night is still young," he speaks, the tone of his voice light and reticent. "It would be a shame to end the date this early."

“Luke’s open if you want to grab a quick dinner,” you say with a grin, stepping away from him. “Though we should probably exit the maze first.”

“Yes,” Bucky laughs and extends his arm towards the light at the end of the passage. “Lead the way, pretty lady.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader fluff #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x baker reader #bucky x baker!reader #insomniumstella #bucky x reader spice & honey

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green-typewriterz · 1 month

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i would love literally anything sam winchester related the lack of fics r astounding.. maybe something fluffy?? ive had a bad week would so cheer me up

Best fake-real husband

ASKS ARE OPEN

Sam Winchester x fem!reader

Summary: You and Sam go undercover in a small town to find out what's been happening to the disappearing couples.

ASK: above

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, awkward moments, mid season sam (in my mind it’s season 5 so its not following canon plot)

Author notes: Thankyou so much for the ask!!! I hope this is good :))) also Sam is the leader of the Sassy man army and if you don’t think so you can leave. Also thank you to @midsummeranderson for helping me plan <3

word count: 4110

You had always hated suburban houses, they just seemed empty, unforgiving. Though you didn’t have much of a choice. Bobby had a case and you two were to go undercover.

”Husband and wife…” Sam began, a glint in his eyes as he moved around the open plan kitchen, opening the windows to salve the heat that bit at their necks.

You smiled in reply, laying out weapons to move to the spare room. “Not awkward at all.” You replied and he laughed, shrugging his usual flannel onto a chair and digging into his bag.

Sam looked up, smiling, holding two rings in his hand. “Nope. I’m going to be the best fake-real husband ever. Dean thinks I can’t and I’m kinda determined to prove him wrong.” You sigh and shake your head, but there’s no annoyance behind it. Trust Dean to make a game out of it.

A piece of hair fell in front of his eyes - it’s so long now that it reaches his shoulders, princelike. “Well then I guess I’ll have to be a good wife.” He hummed in agreement and you tucked his hair back behind his ear and a smile spread across his face. “Looks like I’m off to a good start, Sam Heathcliff.”

You gently slipped the ring onto your finger, the metal slightly too big for you. It was your grandmothers, a mix of silver and sapphire. Sam places his dad’s wedding band on his own hand, fiddling with it gently. It made you smile softly, how the ring was cold against your skin - your grandmother had always wanted you to wear it.

A knock at the door pulled you out of your memories and the two of you looked to each other with confusion, Dean wasn’t meant to be here until later that evening. You opened the door cautiously, flitting into character when you saw a 57 year old woman holding a large pie in her hands.

She grinned cheerily, pushing the dish forward into your hands as she spoke, you didn’t really have another choice but to take it (you’d probably hand it off to Dean later.) “Hi,” the voice sounded fake, satirical. She never met your eyes, she was almost entirely focused on Sam. “I heard there was a new couple in town, thought I’d do the neighbourly thing and say hi.” She began, flicking her hair over her shoulder in a particularly suggestive manner. “We’d love to have you over this weekend, monthly barbeque.”

You looked at Sam, who looked entirely uncomfortable with the attention he was receiving and wrapped your arms around his waist. “We’d love to…” you waited for a name, the woman smiled with annoyance, as if she hated you speaking to her.

“Helen. Watson.”

The two of you introduced yourself and agreed to go, knowing the gathering would be useful to get information. With one last glance at Sam, Helen turned around and left, allowing you to breathe a sigh of relief.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖ng 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

Dean came round that evening, constantly grinning and mocking and (as you had expected) he greeted the pie with open arms. “Look you two,” he began, as if he were an expert on the subject, “You’re practically a couple already, just… act like you’re in your honeymoon phase for the old women.”

He stated this as if it were an obvious fact and you raised your brows at his use of the word ‘honeymoon’. Sam looked away in annoyance (Something Dean found extremely funny). It seemed as though the younger Winchester couldn’t wait to get rid of Dean and so, as soon as he had finished his pie, he was forced out the door and back to the impala. There was a second sigh of relief when the door closed.

Though it had seemed like a smart idea at the time, the two of you were sorely regretting filling the spare room with hunting gear as it had left you with one bedroom. “I’ll take the couch,” Sam said as he gathered some clothes to sleep in, you stood in the doorway, arms folded as you shook your head.

“Not a chance, you’d barely fit on this bed imagine how uncomfortable you'd be downstairs.” You argued and he shook his head, trying to claim that he’d slept worse. Eventually, the two of you came to an agreement. Sam would sleep over the covers, you’d sleep under them (he always got hot at night anyway - especially during the summer).

You excused yourself to the bathroom and by the time you had gotten back Sam was already asleep, long hair falling gently over his eyes. You lay down beside him and got comfortable, though you forgot just how much Sam moved in his sleep. He seemed to subconsciously move closer to you, warm, tan skin flush against yours.

His face was inches from yours, holding a gentle smile as if he were happily dreaming (though that was something that didn’t happen often). You gently moved the hair from his eyes and he moved closer still, broad shoulders brushing against you. You fell asleep in the comfort of his warmth and awoke with his arms wrapped securely around you. He wasn’t awake yet, you always woke up before him.

You eventually found it in yourself to move from his grip and headed downstairs, intending to make breakfast for the two of you. He was downstairs a few moments later, hair a sweet, tousled mess on his head. You smiled sweetly but neither of you spoke - there wasn’t much need to.

The two of you seemed to move around each other as if you had been married for years as you got ready for the barbeque, passing each other what you needed wordlessly. Chalk it up to years of hunting together.

“Todays gonna be entertaining for me.” You stated, a smirk on your face. He tilted his head in confusion as if he were a dog and you smiled, eyes drifting to his shoulders for a moment. “C’mon Sam, it’s a town of 47 year old women who hate their husbands and you’re a - very awkward - 6 '4 man. A handsome one at that.” He blushed and turned away, continuing to get ready.

His hands fiddled with the jacket in front of him. “Yeah, so?” You smiled at him, opening the front door as you spoke again.

“So, it’s gonna be fun watching you squirm.” Your smile turned to a grin and Sam shook his head, following you out the door.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖ng 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

You were right, as expected. Although most were fine, one specific group of women made an exaggerated effort to fan themselves, whispering to each other about Sam. They almost immediately ushered you over. You sent a look to your best friend and headed toward them.

Immediately, they began to gossip, asking you about how you and Sam met and you could barely get a word in edgeways. There were compliments thrown at you too, but you knew they were just to stop you ‘feeling jealous.’

“How did you get so lucky?” One woman, Helen, asked. Her voice was wrought with envy as she stared over at Sam. Part of you understood why they were staring, Sam looked strangely good in the traditional small town husband attire. His white polo had a few buttons undone and the fabric was tight on his arms (Dean had ordered the wrong size) and his long hair was held back from his head by a pair of sunglasses, a few stray pieces falling over his eyes. The only part you weren’t a fan of was the khaki shorts…but it seemed to be the dress code in the town so you brushed it off - you and Dean would probably make fun of him for it later. He felt his gaze on you and turned to meet your eyes, smiling softly and winking. The women around you giggled and you rolled your eyes, to which he laughed.

It turned out that talking to the four women was the best thing for the case, they absolutely adored gossip. “Couples have been going missing, it always starts with the husbands.” Margaret whispered excitedly, “It happened to the couple who were here before you, sweet things.” she continued, sipping on a glass of wine.

You tilted your head, something Sam recognised from a distance, you’d had an idea. “Do they leave anything behind? People can’t just disappear?” You asked, pulling your hand through your hair.

Helen shook her head. “The damn council barely clean out the houses.” You nodded. Bingo. If the house hadn’t been thoroughly cleaned, chances are there’d be evidence. Helen continued to ramble and you were listening intently, until a hand gently slid onto your waist.

You let out a gasp but the strong smell of cedarwood and amber calmed you down. You knew exactly who it was. His grip pulls tighter around you and you lean into him, head resting on his chest. You felt your face flush - something you were praying he didn’t notice.

“How did you two meet?” One woman asked and you looked at each other, making sure without ever even speaking that you had the story right.

Sam leaned his head on yours and sweetly said, “why don’t you take this one, honey.” his eyes sparkled with mischief, he was trying to throw you off and the hand that was massaging your side was proof of that.

You met his eyes with the same excitement, if he wanted to play, you were really going to go for it. “We both worked as government agents, met on the field. Hence all the scars.” The women nodded in realisation, looking at some of the injuries you hadn’t quite managed to hide. “He wasn’t the biggest fan of mine at first but I grew on him, isn’t that right darling?”

Sam nodded, his eyes not leaving yours as he replied, “and now I don’t want to be without her ever again.” He found that sentence to be more true than he thought.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖ng 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

Sam sent an exasperated look your way as he raked a hand through his hair (and sadly took the glasses off his head). “How were the boys?” you asked with a smile and he turned to make sure no one was watching before dropping the facade.

“I’m actually shocked how much I don’t know about football.” He replied and you both laughed, him leaning into you as he smiled. He looked outside at the group of gossipping women before adding on, “they seemed…friendly.”

You laughed, “to you, sure, but I think it’s because they want you in their bed.” The sentence was blunt and Sam’s eyes widened, cheeks blushing a strong red. You, however, continued as if you had never said anything, “I think it could be witches? We’d have to search for hex bags though.” He nodded, not meeting your eyes (he was slightly flustered).

The two of you eventually said your goodbyes and made your way down the street, Sam looked annoyed with himself. “What’s up?”

He sighed, “this one guy, Glenn, roped me into holding a housewarming party…” You stared at him incredulously, did he not try to say no? Sam recognised the look in your eyes and defended himself, “the man was incredibly persuasive!” You shook your head but knew there was no way out of it. You weren’t the best at party planning.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖ng 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

The long stretch of grocery store met you as you and Sam stood in the doorway. You didn’t often do this as hunters so it was a slightly daunting task. You looked at each other with tired eyes and went your separate ways, deciding to cover ground as if it were a hunt…just for nachos.

You rounded a corner only to see Helen stood there. Not wanting to be stuck in conversation again, you instantly turned on your heel, hiding behind a row of sauces. Though, something caught your eye. In Helen’s basket, clearly hidden just not very well, was a large amount of herbs and salt. What got you interested was the extreme amount of basil and sage.

Witches. Had to be.

Sam approached you, smiling gently. Something about the situation made him look so… domestic. You tried to motion to him what you were thinking but he seemed so fixated on you, his reaching out for yours. “Can you do your job?” you spoke, the words sounding harsher than you had intended. He instantly pulled back, face twisting with annoyance.

“What?”

“Take the hint, Sam. Behind me.”

You continued to whisper back and forth in annoyance, alerting Helen who watched in confusion. You quickly turned to look at her and sighed as she approached, hiding the herbs with the rest of her groceries. “Lovers quarrel?” she joked and the two of you laughed in the same way Bobby would when Dean told another of his bad jokes.

Sam made excuses as you looked at her, trying to see if you could spot any witch runes on her. It seemed as though she was trying to do the same to you. “Well isn’t that tattoo…neat!” She said, trying to hide the venom in her voice as she pointed out the anti-possession tattoo on your collarbone. Great.

You looked at Sam in annoyance and turned back to Helen. “Thanks! I saw it in a magazine!” You tried to explain away but you knew you’d been caught, she had spotted you and you her. Though she was very keen to stay in conversation, Sam made a quick excuse and you both left as soon as you could.

“Told you it was witches.”

Sam didn’t reply. The car journey back was completely silent, an unspoken annoyance building in the both of you. Neither of you said a word until the front door closed. “Nice job letting her see the tattoo.” Sam said annoyedly, turning to look at you.

You sighed and turned away, packing away the groceries. “Maybe if you spent less time flirting and more time actually hunting we’d be done by now! This isn’t exactly a hard case, we don't need more bodies to our name.” The reply was sharp and annoyed.

He suddenly grabbed your wrist so you’d look at him. “I’m doing my job just fine.” His eyes were locked with yours. You stepped closer.

“No, you’re not. You’re distracted.” Sam scoffed, his minty breath fanning against your cheek from how close you were. His hand was still firmly on your wrist.

An annoyed smile spread across his face and a muscle in his neck tensed. “Oh yeah? And why would I be distracted?” You stared directly at him, from his long hair that fell over his unreadable gaze to the smoothness of his bronzed skin.

You found yourself stepping closer again. “You tell me.”

There was a crushing silence, the only sound being your sharp breaths. Suddenly, Sam’s grip on your hand moved to your waist and he pulled you into him, his lips colliding with yours. You leaned into him, hands grabbing his hair harshly. He kissed you as if he were hungry, as if he had been waiting for years - maybe he had. He lifted you easily and sat you on the kitchen counter, leaning back from the kiss for a split second. His chest rose quickly in hot breaths as he kissed you again. You bit his bottom lip - letting blood drip as his hands gripped your skin.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖ng 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

The party was loud and irritating, there wasn’t a moment where you had time for yourself, not one point where you weren’t ’y/n Heathcliff’. You and Sam had barely talked after the evening before - you didn’t know what to say.

You knew Helen would be at the party, not only would it be good to keep up appearances but she could get her next victim from it. Sam sent you a look and you nodded once, heading toward the spare bedroom in search of weapons, just in case.

A small, easily hidden knife was being placed into your waistband when Sam opened the door, closing it harshly behind him. “Sorry,” he said quietly, “had to get away from Miriam.”

You laughed gently and went back to preparing, not wanting to meet his eyes. “Helen’s here.”

“I know.”

Silence again. You sighed, “and you just left her out there? Alone?” His brows furrowed and he offered a witty remark, starting another hushed argument between the two of you.

On the other side of the door, Miriam and Margaret pressed their ears to the wood, giggling like school children at how the argument sounded to them. Through the muffled walls, all they could hear was gasps and sharp noises - of course they assumed what they wanted.

Sam’s hands pushed through his hair as he sighed, uncertain of what to do, when suddenly the door started opening. He rushed forward and pushed against it, rushing out a quick, “one moment!” All he heard in reply was laughs.

“What do we do?” He asked nervously and you stood still, nervous, until a thought popped into your head. You held your hands out - asking for permission and, once he nodded, you placed your hands gently in his soft hair, ruffling it. It annoyed you how he still managed to look good.

Then, once he had done the same for you, you looked him up and down, deciding his outfit was far too…tidy. First it was one button undone, then another (you unbuttoned a third for personal reasons). A blush rose on the tips of his ears.

He went to open the door when you realised something was still missing and, in a quick moment of panic, you rushed forward and grabbed his face, kissing him harshly on the lips (you were purposely trying to smudge your lipstick onto him). Sam made a noise in shock but found himself leaning into it, eyes lingering closed for a moment longer after you had pulled away.

Shit. He thought. He definitely liked you.

Eventually, the door was opened and Sam met the two women with an awkward smile. “Oh!’ Margaret began, giggling, “I was going to offer a drink, but I see you’re occupied…” The woman looked at one another, laughed again and walked away, leaving Sam blushing with embarrassment. The door was closed once more and when you were both sure they had walked away, laughter spilt into the room.

He shook his head and smiled, stepping closer to you. “Close one.” You smiled gently, staring into his eyes (the light was hitting them perfectly). There was silence again - neither of you knew what to do.

”Are we ever going to talk about last night?” You asked, thinking about how his hands felt on your skin. His features turned more serious as he sat down on the bed.

He stared at you, lipstick still in a smudge on his face. “I’m not sure what to say about it.” You neared him, hands trailing over his shoulders. Then, slowly, you leaned into him, lifting his chin with your finger as you felt his soft lips against yours. There was something impossibly gentle about it and you weren’t sure anyone had kissed you that softly before.

”Maybe we don’t need to say anything.”

He smiled. You kissed the corner of his grin and headed back downstairs, attempting to fix your hair as you went. You were met with stares as you entered the kitchen - Miriam had most definitely told everyone… at least it sold the cover.

Time passed with an almost excruciating level of slowness and Sam not making a re-entrance back downstairs wasn’t helping either (you had no one to distract you). Eventually, the party cleared out yet Sam was nowhere to be seen - now you began to panic.

You said goodbye to the final few neighbours and headed back upstairs, calling Sam’s name. The lack of response worried you. The first door by the stairs - the one that unfortunately led to your weapons room - was ajar, scratches around the lock. You pulled the dagger from your waistband and slowly opened the door, sighing as you saw the bloodstain on the floor. You had a feeling you knew who had taken him and where he had gone.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖ng 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

You had managed to track him to Helen’s house, hiding around the back to get a good view through the sliding glass doors. Sat, tied to a chair in the middle of the main room, was Sam. His face was bruised and bloody and his expression looked annoyed, chest heaving with sharp breaths. Helen, Miriam and Margaret circled around him, playing with his hair and gathering items they needed for the spell.

”Poor Sam,” Helen began - you assumed she was the leader, “you’d think you’d be able to fight back against three 57 year olds.” Miriam headed into the kitchen as Margaret laughed, they almost reminded you of the witches from Macbeth.

”You’d also think, considering she’s a hunter, that your ‘wife’ would be better at hiding.” Suddenly, a surprisingly strong pair of hands grabbed you, pushing you against the wall.

You struggled against the grip but it was no use, your hands being painfully tied behind your back. Miriam ushered you into the living room, retiring you to a chair beside Sam. You met his eyes with an apologetic gaze and he returned it.

It was your turn to feel the bunt of the witches’ fun now, knives sliced at your skin and hair was cut from your head, you knew they’d done it somewhere visible on purpose. They grabbed at your face, nails digging into flesh and smiling as Sam protested.

Eventually, the three left the room and you and Sam began planning. You shuffled your chair toward him, trying to see if he could reach the dagger you always hid in your shoe. His hand brushed over your shin but he couldn’t reach any further.

With one final attempt, Sam tried to lean on the chair to reach, which ended with him toppling both chairs. He landed on top of you, his chest flush against yours. “Sorry.” He spoke, words hoarse from lack of breath.

Luckily for you, the fall had broken the ropes around your ankles and - though it hurt like hell - you manoeuvred your leg just enough to read the blade. Sam's hair tickled against your face and his lips tickled your neck - but that was something you’d have to think about later.

“Nice try you two.” Helen spoke as she waltzed back in. You hid the blade in your sleeve as your chair was fixed once more and while the three were busy working, you managed to slice through the ropes. you waited patiently, watching with a newfound confidence. Luckily for you, Maragaret was the type of witch to intimidate - her favourite tactic being getting as close as she could.

You took the opportunity and thrust the blade forward, stabbing through her throat. She screamed out and you stood up making your way over to the other two to fight. You took a fair few punches, but it was nothing new and soon enough the two others were on the floor too, holding onto the last of their life.

The large salt circle was immediately broken and Sam was freed, you apolising every time you accidentally touched any of his injuries. “That was badass.” Sam complimented and you laughed, leaning your hair back tiredly.

You turned away, starting to destroy the spell further as you spoke, “Ready to finally stop being husband and wife?” You asked and a small smirk rose on his face, hands snaking back over your waist again.

With sudden passion, he spun you back around, his eyes glinting. “Not really.”

With that, Sam lifted you off the ground, hands securely gripping your thighs as he kissed your neck. You had your back pushed against the wall as he moved to kiss your lips, your hands pulling at the back of his hair. He sighed and went to kiss you again when the front door swung open, revealing a disgusted (but slightly relieved) Bobby and a grinning Dean.

”We can explain?” Sam offered, gently lowering you back to the ground. You couldn’t look at one another.

Dean shook his head, smiling like a madman. “I don’t know Sammy, seems pretty obvious to me.” Then, with the same giddy happiness he turned to Bobby, who had since fished a ten dollar bill out of his pocket.

Typical. You and Sam shared an annoyed look as The other two hunters headed back out the door. ‘“C’mon you lovebirds,” Bobby began, “There’s a vamp nest in Chicago.”

#fic #fanfic #one shot #writing #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester #fluff #Injury #witches #supernatural #supernatural fic #Sam Winchester the sass queen #sam winchester x fem!reader

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lixie-phoria · 5 months

Text

[ 3.0 oh... ] BETTER THAN REVENGE !

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57 messages. 35 calls.

57 unread messages. 35 unanswered calls.

yeonjun. your boyfriend. who's in the field in front of you, who's been with you for four years, who's seen your best and worst times, who's always been there for you, who's been ghosting you for an entire week.

7 long days and no contact from him had pushed you to your breaking point. if he wasn't going to speak with you, you would force him to. you're only waiting for half time to roll around because you know you can't wait for the entire match to make your presence known.

it feels strange, sitting there, the game unfolding before your eyes but you're not paying attention. the cheers and shouts are white noise as you get lost in what you're going to say to yeonjun. a small part of you is terrified of the explanation you're going to hear. terrified also because you knew if he lost, you will be on the receiving end of his anger.

your nerves are going haywire because you could see the timer for half time ticking frustratingly fast, every second bringing you closer to the moment you weren't sure you wanted to witness yourself.

when the whistle finally blows and the players step off the field, everyone around you gets up, the noise multiplying as they head out for the break. it's a flurry of movement, and you know you're supposed to be stepping down, but it's difficult when your breath is coming out in short puffs and you can see him right there, gulping down water as his eyes remain trained on someone blocked by the crowd.

probably his coach?

and then you see her.

hair tied up, a bright section of pink standing out against her black locks, and a sickly sweet smile twisting against her lips.

you don't realize what's happening until you see her lean down and peck him on the lips, giggling as he pulls her closer.

hwang yeji.

campus celebrity, part-time model, yeonjun's childhood friend hwang yeji. and she's wearing his jersey, kissing his lips, tangling her fingers in his hair.

you see red as your 'boyfriend' shoves his tongue down someone else's throat and it's sickening. you nearly throw up.

and it appears as though hyunjin sees it at the same time too, because from your periphery you can see him drop his bottle, mouth open in shock as his eyes immediately search for you in the crowd.

you must not have been a pretty sight, because his features immediately twist into a scowl as realization dawns on hims too.

so this is why he's been acting strange.

you don't register what happens after that. you're slumped in your seat, heart racing a hundred miles an hour. you don't even know if you're crying or not. everything feels numb.

you notice when the game resumes and hyunjin playing absolutely dirty. even from a distance you can tell he's livid as he nearly takes down HYBE's defense single handed. you don't think you have ever seen him this angry before, playing as though it was a game of life and death, and when the whistle blows, it's your university that wins, not HYBE.

but your best friend doesn't bother celebrating. he's running out to catch up with you as you hastily let your feet carry you out of the campus.

"y/n."

you can't meet his eyes as he stops you at the entrance. guilt gnaws at your insides. he tried to warn you. he tried to stop you. you should have listened to him. you should not have snapped at him.

"i'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, angel. It's not your fault."

he insists on driving back with you, comforting you to the best he can.

it still feels numb, although the ice is slowing thawing. you can feel the sharp pain of hurt and disbelief working its poison on your system.

"It's just, I can't believe he cheated."

"he's an asshole. i can't believe it either." he envelopes your hands in his warm ones as the taxi drives through the busy streets of Seoul.

yeonjun. your boyfriend. who's been with you for four years, who's seen your best and worst times, who's always been there for you, who's been ghosting you for an entire week. who's been cheating on you for probably more than just this past week.

the reality sinks in.

"I'm going to get back at him for this."

"what?"

You choose to ignore the surprise in hyunjin's voice as you nod.

"Yeah. He wasted four years of my life, jinnie. He's not going to get away with that."

"But how?"

You hadn't thought that far, but you were determined you would.

Choi Yeonjun had chosen to mess with the wrong person, and you would make his regret it. after all, there was nothing you did better than revenge.

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pumpkinsareamazing · 4 months

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Just for You. *Platonic* Capt. Price x TF141!reader

The holidays on base were usually hard—but this year felt especially hard. No one was able to even request leave due to the upcoming mission and this would be the first year you’ve spent without being remotely close to your family, and it hurt..a lot.

You sat in your barracks looking over the postcard your family sent. You should've been in that picture. It felt nice to know your family was enjoying the holidays but knowing it was without you broke your heart. Before you could think any longer you heard a firm knock on your door. You welcome the person to step inside as you set the postcard down and look at the door as it opens…

It's your captain, Price.

You quickly stand up in attention. "At ease, [Name]." He responds, looking at you "I expect you to be in the common room at 22:00, Please don't be late." He peaks down at the postcard on your bed before leaving your room, softly closing the door behind him, you wait until his boot steps fade down the hallway before sitting back down.

At 21:57 you make your way down to the common room- it is quiet, and you feel the cool breeze shiver up your spine. Once you stand near the door you see a warm- soft glow under the frame. You slowly open the door and the faint sound of "Here comes Santa Clause" plays all around, you follow it until you come across your team sitting on the couch surrounding the poorly decorated tree, and eating Christmas sugar cookies. "Hey! Ya' made it!" Gaz cheers catching the attention of the others, "come on! I saved a seat for you." He finishes his sweet before softly hitting the seat between him and Soap. You take a seat and look around the room.

Old red and green string lights hung from the ceiling-some flickering and most working, a few candles give the dark room a soft glow, and the tree is covered in ornaments, old grenades, and lights. "You like the tree? I think the grenades give it a nice touch." Soap laughs while Ghost gives him a deadpan stare. You laugh "I do, the color blends in really nicely-" you look around, "Where's the captain?" You ask. "He said he'd be back soon, not sure when but he said so." Ghost grumbles out before lifting the bottom half of his mask to take a bite of the cookie. You look in front of you at the coffee table, it has a plate on it with a single cookie on it, "tried saving you another one but a certain Scot ate it." Gaz says in a sarcastic voice while looking at soap. "Can ya' blame me? These things are good!" They start to bicker but you block them out while grabbing the cookie and taking a bite out of it immediately being reminded of home. The warm smiles, the smell of fresh gingerbread, the warm atmosphere, the laughter— the common room door opens and slams shut, you're drawn back into reality and Price is in front of you holding a wrapped box in his hands. "And for you." He says, you take the gift and slowly open it while the rest of the team opens theirs. You gasp. Inside the box was a framed photo of the team. With you in it, and next to it was a small picture of you and Price after you got accepted into his team, you stare at it, recalling the memory.

You step into the captain's temporary office. "You wanted to see me, sir?" You ask, "[name], take a seat." He says, you sit down and feel yourself shrinking at every second his eyes are on you. "You were great out there today." He states "A few tweaks and you could match with Gaz, you know that right?" He asks you. "No sir" you respond. "I want you on my team." He suddenly said. Your eyes widen "You would be a good fit and with your knowledge of the wilderness and strength you could get us out of some tough situation." You look up at him. "Yes or No, soldier?" He asked looking straight through you. "Yes," you say. You suddenly blurt out "Canltakeapicturewithyou?"

He pauses, "Excuse me?" He asks. "Can I take a picture with you?" You slowly ask, he gives you a look almost asking you why "My mom. she likes me to have photos of huge milestones in my life, you don’t have to-" he cuts you off. "We can take a picture."

You smile at the memory, remembering how proud your mom was of you, her huge smile as you show her the picture from your phone. You look back at Price from his seat on the couch. "Happy Holidays, Kid." He says smiling. "Happy Holidays to you too …Price." You smile back.

#cod x reader #call of duty fanfic #call of duty x reader #call of duty #ghost cod #captain john price #captain price x reader #fluff #christmas #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader

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imagine-that · 4 months

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I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Clause

One-shot #57 - Christmas cheer edition

Summary: Loki does absolutely everything to please you and your daughter. But is he willing to be holly and jolly?

Pairing: Loki Friggason x female!mom!reader

Warnings: obviously it is a Christmas themed read so if you are not interested in that, this piece is not for you. It also has mentions of children so if that is a sensitive topic, please be warned

A/N: HIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!!!!! Long time no see!!!!! I’m very excited to be able to post this as I have not had inspiration to write again in such a long time. This is a favourite fic of mine and it only took 2 nights to write!!! As mentioned, it includes you, but also your daughter! In this fic there is no (your daughters name), the daughter is named Frigga (😇🥺). I just hope you enjoy it, and happy holidays!!!!!

"Love... this is ridiculous." Your husband says, staring down the red garments in his hands, holding it so far away from himself that it looks as though it had personally slapped him or something.

"Darling, you know Frigga asked for it. And did you see the look on her sweet little face when she did? She BEGGED to stay up late enough to catch him in the act Loki dearest. Aren't you happy she's picked up your knack for mischief?" You reply, imitating the look your daughter had in her eyes as she announced her goals for the night.

He groans, shoving his face into the Santa suit you had selected off Amazon.

"Why could we not have asked Thor to do this? He is a big oaf, just like this Santa Clause you mortals love so much. it would perfectly fit his loud and obnoxious tendencies." He offers, waggling his eyebrows to emphasize how much he likes that idea.

You stifle a giggle, putting down the stockings you were about to carefully hang 'by the chimney with care'.

"THAT, my dear husband, is because you would have thrown a fit if she dared to be more excited by her uncle than you." You argue, waggling your eyebrows right back at him, earning a sigh of dramatic despair.

Being a huge holiday fanatic, you were more than thrilled when Loki began very actively joining in on your Christmas festivities over the years, but especially once your daughter had arrived four years ago. She was his little princess, and whatever she liked, he liked.

Which of course, automatically meant that when she begged and begged to see Santa Clause do his job, your loving husband and her devoted father could never say no to such a request.

"You promised your princess a Santa Clause viewing love. Are you really going to let her down, or hand the task off to Thor like its a chore?" You joke, clutching your imaginary pearls at the idea.

He puts the Santa suit off to the side, giving you a devilish smile before tackling you into the bed, erupting you into a fit of giggles again.

"That, my loving wife, is never going to happen and you know it, do you not my little dove?" He growls lightly in your ear, arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

You wrestle around, trying to release yourself from the gods hold, failing to do anything more than laugh.

"Alright, alright, I know you wouldn't dare. Please release me." You ask extra sweetly. He ponders for a moment, tilting his head every which way, earning an eyeroll from you. Finally, he gently lets you go, his fingertips coolly travelling down your hips before pulling away.

With a sound of annoyance and a look you only get when he is "forced" to watch any of the reality tv shows he so often pretends to loath, he stands and starts to unbutton his crisp white shirt, immediately starting to change into the soft red suit. You stare up as he puts on the padding to make him appear holly and jolly, your eyes filling with more admiration than ever before.

As Loki uses his magic to fake a head of silver hair and a bushy beard, you clap your hands together with glee.

"Honey she is going to adore this! And she will have no idea that it's her daddy all along." You squeal, already picturing the look of excitement you knew would be all over your daughters face once she thinks she's caught Santa Clause.

He grins just as big, the beard just barely hiding it. "Well, then this ridiculous look must have some real worth." He announces, pulling on the hat and letting out a loud "Ho Ho Ho" you never thought you'd hear from your husbands mouth.

---------------------------------------------------------

"Frigga" You hum, just barely shaking your daughter awake. Her hair, a curly jet black replica to her fathers, is wrapped in two braids, hanging above her head like an angelic halo perfectly fitting of her features.

"baby girl." You try gently, brushing stray hairs behind her ear. She lets out a groan of protest, rolling over to her side. You sigh, caving to your own mischievous side and yanking the blankets off of her legs.

"Momma." She whines, looking back over to you with a dark glare.

"I'm sorry I woke you up like this sweetheart but there's something downstairs you just have to see!" You whisper excitedly, stroking her back until her scowl dissipates to a look of curiosity.

The small child carefully sits up, grabbing out to hold your hand as she gets out of the bed.

"Is it christmas morning momma?" She asks sweetly, her eyes lighting up happily.

You chuckle before replying, pulling her up into your arms. "No not yet my girl, but it is still very exciting. Lets go see." You say, kissing her lightly on the forehead as you move out of the room.

"Where's daddy? He can't miss the excitement!" Frigga declares, making you laugh even louder.

"Papa went to uncle Thor's to bring their christmas gifts from us. That way we can all open them together tomorrow afternoon darling." You explain, her lips going to an o shape as she nods in understanding.

Together the two of you walk quietly down the stairs, into the hallway. You carefully stop at the bottom, poking your head around the corner to see a bored looking red covered figure by the fireplace. You give him a look, letting him know to jolly up.

"Now Frigga, you said you wanted to catch Santa delivering this year yes?" You whisper, glancing at her as she nods frantically. "Well in order to see him, we have to be super duper quiet and only watch ok? We don't want Santa to get scared and leave with all of our gifts." You instruct, and she agrees excitedly, putting a chubby finger to her lips.

You place her down on the floor, creeping around the corner just enough to see the tree and sitting on the floor, legs crossed. Gently you pull your daughter down with you, cradling her in your arms.

She watches in awe as the fireplace quickly sheds ash, a chubby figure appearing at the bottom. He crosses the room to where she left a plate of perfectly iced cookies the two of you had made the morning prior, gulping down all of the milk and letting out the ho ho ho you now knew he could.

"I can't believe papa is missing this." She murmurs, more to herself than to you. You stifle a giggle as santa-husband pulls all of the delicately wrapped gifts he had almost ruined before you stepped in out of the Santa bag on his back.

Your daughter is practically bouncing out of your lap, her excitement hardly contained. Your husband turns his head ever so slightly, only in real view to you, and sends a wink your way, making you wonder how you ever got so lucky. He fills every stocking, shovels down all of the cookies and leaves the sweet letter he wrote as santa for frigga on the counter. He snatches up the carrots and celery for the reindeer and lets out another merry christmas and ho ho ho before flying right back up the chimney.

"We gotta go watch him leave mama!!!" she begs as she runs to her coat hook anyway.

You simply smile and nod, bringing her outside again and pointing to the sleigh illusioned onto the roof.

Before she can ask any questions or say anything about the encounter, Santa is on his way to the next house. She instead lays her head lazily on your chest, hugging you tightly to her.

“Momma, do you think other kids will catch Santa?” She asks shyly, a sound of uncertainty in her voice.

“My darling, I think that they will try. But I don’t believe they will succeed as well as we have.” You promise, rocking her back and forth as you habitually did since she was a baby.

She nods, assured by your words and starts to shut her eyes, the late evening too much for her to bear any longer. She lets out a little yawn, and you plant one more long kiss in the middle of her forehead before bringing her inside, laying her down in her bed and saying a quick I love you before sneaking out the door and shutting it halfway behind you.

“So, was this Santa clause as exciting as our princess imagined?” A deep, calming voice asks suddenly from behind you, cause you to jump a little bit. He chuckles, pulling you into his chest from behind and planting a kiss on top of your head. You supposed he was where you got that from, passing it right down to little Frigga.

“She was enchanted my love. You were a hit. And don’t think I didn’t notice Santa wink at mom. Am I correct in assuming he has maybe a little crush?” You tease, turning and starting to pull him in closer by the collar of the Santa suit. He grins wide, holding you by your hips.

“Why yes, Santa thought mom was positively radiant. I must agree with him.” He purrs, finally pulling you all the way in and planting his lips hungrily on yours, earning a smile as you kiss him right back.

You two stand in the dimly lit hall, pressed together for what feels like an eternity, a little sliver of time kept just for you and him.

“This is her best Christmas yet thanks to you love.” You smile, stroking your thumb over Lokis jawline.

“Ah but if it were not for you my dear, we would not have her and I would not have my two brightest sunshines, so really you are the one who gave both of us the best Christmas ever.” He corrects matter of factly, earning a deep blush on your cheeks and an eye roll on top of it.

You quietly pull away, turning him around towards your bedroom door and giving a light push.

“Now you Mr, go and change into something less suitable of St Nick and more fitting for the king of mischief and go give your daughter a kiss good night.” You order, getting an eye roll of your own in return.

He follows orders, changing into the Christmas pyjamas you picked out for him, a pair in emerald green with gold embroidery of his initials. “I’ll be in in a moment my love, I promise.” He says, pecking you on the lips and making his way to her room.

You tiptoe behind, your reindeer slippers making you all the more stealthy, and carefully peek between the door crack, watching your husband admire your daughter before kissing her lightly on the cheek, silently thanking the universe and fate for giving you the most perfect Christmas gift of all.

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andsjuliet · 4 months

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2024 books read

2024 goal: 150 books

january: 1 - heartstopper vol. 1 → alice oseman (reread) 2 - heartstopper vol. 2 → alice oseman (reread) 3 - heartstopper vol. 3 → alice oseman (reread) 4 - heartstopper vol. 4 → alice oseman (reread) 5 - heartstopper vol. 5 → alice oseman 6 - a fragile enchantment → allison saft 7 - some shall break → ellie marney (audiobook) 8 - only if you're lucky → stacy willingham (arc) 9 - over my dead body: a witchy graphic novel → sweeney boo 10 - notes on an execution → danya kukafka (physical & audiobook) 11 - murder on the orient express → agatha christie (reread) 12 - our wives under the sea → julia armfield (physical & audiobook) 13 - the invocations → krystal sutherland (arc) 14 - red string theory → lauren kung jessen 15 - the breakup tour → emily wibberley & austin siegemund-broka (arc) 16 - the name drop → susan lee 17 - the secret of the old clock → carolyn keene (reread) 18 - bright young women → jessica knoll (audiobook) 19 - last call at the local → sarah grunder ruiz (audiobook) 20 - no one can know → kate alice marshall

february: 21 - worst wingman ever → abby jimenez 22 - drop, cover, and hold on → jasmine guillory 23 - with any luck → ashley poston 24 - the atlas six → olivie blake (reread, audiobook) 25 - that's not my name → megan lally 26 - not here to stay friends → kaitlyn hill 27 - this golden state → marit weisenberg 28 - today tonight tomorrow → rachel lynn solomon (reread, annotation) 29 - past present future → rachel lynn solomon (arc, annotation) 30 - the atlas paradox → olivie blake (reread, audiobook) 31 - the guest list → lucy foley (audiobook) 32 - in the market for murder → t.e. kinsey (audiobook) 33 - the neighbor favor → kristina forest 34 - in the mix → mandy gonzalez 35 - everyone in my family has killed someone → benjamin stevenson 36 - the seven year slip → ashley poston 37 - veronica ruiz breaks the bank → elle cosimano (audiobook) 38 - finlay donovan rolls the dice → elle cosimano (audiobook) 39 - the simmonds house kills → meaghan dwyer (arc)

march: 40 - the mysterious case of the alperton angels → janice hallett 41 - the book of cold cases → simone st. james 42 - what the river knows → isabel ibañez (audiobook) 43 - cut loose! → ali stroker & stacy davidowitz 44 - how i'll kill you → ren destefano 45 - the reappearance of rachel price → holly jackson (arc) 46 - when no one is watching → alyssa cole (audiobook) 47 - outofshapeworthlessloser: a memoir of figure skating, f*cking up, and figuring it out → gracie gold (audiobook) 48 - julius caesar → william shakespeare (rerad, audiobook) 49 - the family plot → megan collins (audiobook) 50 - if we were villains → m.l. rio (reread) 51 - alone with you in the ether → olivie blake (physical & audiobook) 52 - disappearance at devil's rock → paul tremblay (audiobook)

april: 53 - shakespeare: romeo and juliet graphic novel → martin powell & eva cabrera 54 - shakespeare: macbeth graphic novel → martin powell & f. daniel perez 55 - shakespeare: julius caesar graphic novel → carl bown & eduardo garcia 56 - shakespeare: a midsummer night's dream graphic novel → nel yomtov & berenice muniz 57 - twelfth knight → alexene farol follmuth (arc) 58 - kill for me, kill for you → steve cavanagh 59 - murder road → simone st. james 60 - everyone on this train is a suspect → benjamin stevenson 61 - listen for the lie → amy tintera 62 - king cheer → molly horton booth, stephanie kate strohm, jamie green 63 - twelfth night (musical adaptation) → kwame kwei-armah & shaina taub 64 - in juliet's garden → judy elliot mcdonald 65 - fat ham → james ijames 66 - death by shakespeare → philip l. nicholas, jr 67 - a good girl's guide to murder → holly jackson (reread) 68 - good girl, bad blood → holly jackson (reread) 69 - as good as dead → holly jackson (reread) 70 - dark corners → megan goldin (audiobook)

#post: 2024 books read #i always get SO excited to start these threads!#and as y'all know i love starting the new year with a reread #so i figured this year it would be heartstopper and then i'd finally get to read heartstopper vol 5 #i loved it which is no surprise #i just love these characters so much <3

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swissboyhisch · 1 year

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All-Star Love

Pairing: Matthew Tkachuck x Lemiuex!Reader

Summary: The NHL All Star weekend is always fun. But bring in a romance... Then that's when it becomes interesting.

Word Count: 1742

Warnings: None I think. Please tell me if I'm wrong.

A/N: This comes from a fanific I've written myself. I adjusted it for this but I loved this idea/scene.

THE MASTERLIST JOIN THE TAGLIST HOCKEY DISCORD

All-Star weekend 2020. This year it was being held in St. Louis. You had arrived on the Pittsburgh plane with Sidney Crosby, Kris Letang and Tristan Jarry since you were currently working with the team. Despite being Lemiuex’s child, you had earned yourself a position as an assistant coach at such a young age. You grew up playing the game. Now you were also the captain of the Canadian Women’s team.

The last few years, you had attended the games alongside Sidney, who was an older brother after he lived with you and your family after he was drafted in 2005. It was a staple weekend in the season schedule. You had the chance to see all the friends and players you were close with and get to have some fun. Often you could even find yourself doing media stuff.

This year the NHL had introduced the Elite Women’s 3 on 3. You were the youngest on the Canadian team by 5 years. They also have allowed the women on the teams to compete in the skills competitions. You had been placed into the Shooting Stars event. This meant that you were competing against your boyfriend, Matt, and his brother, Brady. Others in the skills competition include Mitch Marner, Patrick Kane, Tyler Seguin, David Perron, Hillary Knight, Danid Pastrnak and Ryan O’Reilly.

Right now you were dressed in a pair of jeans and your team jersey. Standing in line waiting to be called to the stage where you’d be shooting from. With Mitch, Matt and Brady in front of you, the four of you were chatting and laughing. Each of you were excited to shoot off the platform.

“Now your Gatorade Shooting Stars… from your St. Louis Blues, number 57, David Perron!”

The arena came to life, all cheering on one of the home team players. Perron, with his son in his arms, made his way up the stairs from ice levels. Handing out beanies and high fiving the fans as he went up to the platform.

“From the Toronto Maple Leafs, number 16, Mitch Marner.”

Mitch followed Perron up the steps. Handing out hats as he went. Matt stepped forward to the bottom of the stars, looking up at all the fans. He had a hand on your lower back. Brady had let your stand next to your boyfriend whilst you three waited.

“From the Calgary Flames, number 19, Matthew Tkachuk.” Matt follows Mitch up. “From the Ottawa Senators, number 7, Brady Tkachuk.”

“The Canadian Women’s All Star, number 11, (Y/N) Lemieux.”

As you walked up the many stairs, you handed out rolled up t-shirts to fans. It was weird to have this many cameras in your face though. If you were honest, the walk up to the platform looked a lot shorter from the bottom. Especially the amount of stairs you had to climb. You reached the platform and waited for the rest of the players to join herself,Matt, Brady, Mitch and Perron. When everyone had gotten there, it went straight into the competition. First to shoot was Perron. He scored a total of 14 points. Mitch was next on the platform. He scored an awesome 22 points.

“Our next shooter, Matthew Tkachuk,” Nick started. “Your brother Brady is following you so we thought, hey, why not get one more Tkachuk up here. Why not bring up your Dad. Give it up St. Louis, for all-star Kieth Tkachuk!”

Yourself and Brady grin, tapping your sticks as you watched Keith join Matt on the platform, an arm around his shoulder with a wide smile on his face. Nick motioned for Brady to join them as well. You decided to give him a light shove as a joke.

“You should be up here as well,” Brady commented as he joined his brother and father.

You laughed at Brady’s comment. Sending a wink to Matt as well who had the biggest smile on his face.

Keith turned to face you, giving you a joking look, “I think we’re missing someone up here.”

“I ain’t no Tkachuck,” You reply. “Enjoy the moment, big guy.”

Matt stepped forward from where he was standing, holding his hand out for you. “Well, maybe we should change that, hey?”

“What?”

Keith, Brady and Nick stepped back from the platform and Matt grabbed your hand, pulling you to the centre of the platform they were standing on. Your hands flew to your mouth as you watched Matt slowly kneel to one knee and open a ring box. In the box sat the most perfect engagement ring you had ever seen.

“No way,” you breathed, looking at Matt who had the biggest smile on his face.

“You’ve been my best friend since we met all those years ago right here in this very arena. When little (Y/N) bumped into me as she ran to get away from her dad. You’ve been considered part of this family since then but I think I need to make it official, make sure you don’t stand out too much with that last name. Will you do me the greatest honour of changing your last name from Lemieux to Tkachuk?”

You nodded, too shocked to answer in words. The arena roared to life when Matt stood up and kissed you. He pulled the ring out of the box as you dropped your gloves. You cried as Matt slid the ring on your finger. Once he had sealed the deal, you lunged at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders excitedly.

The players around them and on the bench, as well as the whole arena, were screaming and cheering. Mitch and Brady made sure they were heard over everyone else.

“I can’t believe you,” You laughed as you pulled away from Matt. Brady was the first to hug you congratulations. He had the biggest grin as well. The smile gave him away. “You knew!”

“Of course I did,” Brady chuckles, “I helped choose the ring.”

Brady was interrupted when Keith pulled you into a hug. “I think you should just keep your last name, it’s more recognisable.”

“Tkachuk is better, that's for sure.”

Nick soon joined the happy group. You were tucked into Matt’s side like usual. Nick held his hand out to Matt who shook it happily before handing Matt a new jersey. It was a grey All-Star Canadian jersey like you were wearing. You grabbed it from Matt, checking the back which now had Tkachuk on it.

“Oh my god,” You grinned, pulling off your current jersey for the new one.

“Hey, have a look at the photo up on the board you guys.” There was a photo of Keith kneeling by the bench in front of a young Brady, Matt and yourself. You had attended the weekend with her father and hung out with the boys. One of the rare times you got to see the Tkachuk brothers as a kid. “How exciting is it to be on this platform being here, history in the making, with your sons and soon to be in-law?”

“I’m so proud of these guys,” Keith stated, smiling at you three. “They’ve earned being here. Matt and Brady grew up here, watched me play here. I mean, Matt met (Y/N) just outside the home change rooms in this arena.” At that, there was a picture of Matt, Brady and Taryn, the youngest Tkachuk, standing with Keith now on the screen. “I love these guys. I know they love the Blues deep down.”

“Oh, we’re excited to have you here. 18000 people wanna know, how many pucks can Tkachuk chuck, chuck? So why don’t you have a go at this.” Keith took Matt’s stick from him as the three young adults stepped back. “Come on, Keith Tkachuk everybody!”

Keith shot the puck, nearly getting it in the 10 pointer net. “Not a lot of love for that arch there Tkachuk,” You chirped as he turned to give Matt his stick back.

He hugged the three of you before Matt stepped up to the platform. But only after a kiss from you. Keith’s arm wrapped around your shoulder as they watched Matt drop his gloves.

“How characteristic…” You giggles, stopping when he pulls off his Calgary jersey to reveal an old St. Louis Cardinals jersey.

“Who’d he fight?” Keith laughed. “He won’t touch you.”

“He’ll fight me,” Brady mumbled from beside you.

The three of you chuckled as you watched Matt take his first shot. As he took his next few shots, you listened to Brady and Keith chirp your boyfriend, well now Fiance. Matt ended up with 24, getting a 10 on his last one.

“Look at you go,” You smiled, pecking Matt when he switched spots with Brady.

Brady stepped up to the plate. Matt pulled from under his dad’s arm into his. Having you stand in front of him with his arms around you. When Brady took his first shot, Matt laughed at the fact his brother didn’t do anything special as a tribute to their hometown.

“Next up we have the last of the three musketeers.”

You stepped onto the platform, with a good luck kiss from Matthew. You had 7 shots to hit the targets laid out on the ice below. With the first shot you hit a 5. After your 6 other shots, you came to a total of 24 as well. Tie with Matthew. After everyone else had taken their shot, it was only Matthew and yourself that had the highest score. No-one had outshot you two.

“Since you both scored an amazing 24 points, we go to a sudden death shootout. One shot. Highest score wins.”

Matt shot first, missing the arch but a hair. You shot next. The puck went flying over the arch. Actually hitting Jarry who was chilling at the end of the end with some of the other goalies.

“Injure your goalie, why don’t ya?” Matt chirps as he steps up once again.

Round two. Matt shoots and hits the 5 points. Only way for you to beat that was to score the same or hit the arch for 10 points. You took a moment before finally shooting the puck. It went straight into the arch. You grin, cheering as you turn to where Matt was standing.

“Better luck next time Tkachuk!”

He smiled, coming up to congratulate you. He pressed a kiss to your lips. “Next time, you’ll be a Tkachuk as well.”

TAG LIST:

@findapenny @mp0625 @hischierhaze @11zegras @lvrzegras @francesfarhadi @cixrosie @daisysthings

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mariacallous · 8 days

Text

Liz Truss is the most disastrous and unpopular leader in modern British history. Mortgage holders and small businesses still loathe her for sending interest rates through the roof. Her short, catastrophic premiership is routinely compared unfavourably to the shelf life of a lettuce. (A comparison first made by the bright leader writers at the Economist to give credit where it is due.)

When Labour wins the next election, its triumph will be in part the result of the public’s reaction against her vast and dogmatic economic folly.

If you were Liz Truss, you might retire from public life. At the very least you would apologize and hang your head in shame.

If readers expect contrition, however, they have yet to learn that being on the radical right means never having to say you are sorry.

Truss’s demotion from national leader to national joke has not embarrassed her in the slightest but pushed deep into paranoid conspiracism.

Her autobiography, bizarrely titled Ten Years to Save the West, as if the fate of liberal democracy depended on the advice of an epic failure, shows that, despite all she did to this country, her eyes still shine with a bright, self-righteous fanaticism, as if the sockets are backlit by an idiot’s lantern,

Chutzpah used to be defined as murdering both your parents and asking the court for clemency because you are an orphan. In Truss’s case it is using the power of the prime minister to crash the economy and then claiming she was a powerless victim of the liberal elite.

Her writing is as lacking in self-awareness as it is powered by self-righteousness.

At one point she says in all innocence that, when Boris Johnson resigned in the summer of 2022, her agent encouraged her to join the race to be prime minister, as the campaign might be good for her profile.

But she reports that he then wisely added “it would be for the best if I came second”.

Later she informs us that during the leadership campaign she “frankly lost trust in many of my erstwhile ministerial colleagues who were supporting my opponent [Rishi Sunak].

“They had spent the last six weeks not just attacking me but seeking to undermine my plans, saying my agenda was unworkable."

Truss never stops to think that the few people who will finish this book will believe that her agent was right, and it would clearly have been for the best if she had never been prime minister.

Nor does she contemplate the possibility that her agenda was indeed “unworkable”, and was proved to be unworkable when her unfunded tax cuts and fuel subsidies sent the price of gilts shooting up, the value of the pound crashing down, and caused a crisis in the pension industry for good measure.

And yet, and yet…Mock her as much as you like. Please don’t hold back on my account. But you cannot dismiss her.

There are two reasons why Truss is still dangerous. The first lies in the strength of the right-wing clique that brought her to power.

It is true that Liz Truss did not become prime minister by winning over Conservative MPs. As with Jeremy Corbyn’s leadership of the Labour party, Truss’s career illustrates the danger of expecting leaders who do not have the support of a plurality of their colleagues to function in a Parliamentary democracy.

But she still beat Rishi Sunak with the votes of 57 percent of Tory members.

And with the honourable exception of the Times, the Tory press was all for her. “In Liz We Trust”, said the Express “Cometh the Hour, Cometh the Woman”, cried the Mail. “Liz Puts Her Foot on the Gas”, cheered the Sun.

Kwasi Kwarteng set off a market panic as he put Truss’s ideas into practice in the mini budget of September 2022. The reaction of right-wing papers was not one of alarm, however, but of adoration.

“At last”, gushed the Daily Mail, “a True Tory Budget”. A Daily Telegraph commentator said it was “the best Budget I have ever heard a British Chancellor deliver”.

Meanwhile the Truss premiership allowed the voodoo economics of the US-influenced (and in all probability US-financed) think tanks to finally impose itself on this luckless country. The Centre for Policy Studies welcomed the mini-budget saying it was “exactly what we would have hoped for”. The Taxpayers’ Alliance called it “the most taxpayer-friendly budget in recent memory”.

Robert Saunders of Queen Mary University made the unarguable point that Truss was not an aberration or some alien figure that had appeared from nowhere to take over the Conservative party.

Follow the money that cascaded in from party donors, he said, and “the Truss premiership begins to look less like the personal failure of a flawed individual, and more like a systemic disaster for which the party bears collective responsibility”.

Those forces will dominate the Conservative party after its defeat and drive it to the radical right. Indeed, in opposition the members, the think tanks, the press and the ideologue donors will become more important, for they will be all the party has.

In a sign of things to come, Truss is already allying with Nigel Farage, and even Rishi Sunak says he will not ban Farage from joining Conservative party.

Despite her failure, Truss remains a potent figure on the radical right because of her championing of revanchism, which is now its dominant emotion.

This isn't a book. It’s a 300-page wail of resentment at a world that will not do as it is told.

I have no problem with conservatives complaining about woke policies taking over institutions. Only a fool or liar maintains that progressive biases among supposedly impartial organisations are an invention of the right,

But the woke conspiracy Truss invokes is of a wholly different order. It is utterly fantastical.

To recap, Truss's unfunded subsidies and tax cuts panicked the bond markets. They would not lend to a country whose leaders lacked plausible means of meeting its debts. Or if they did lend they would demand an additional yield on government bonds, which became known in plain-speaking financial markets as the “moron premium”: the extra cost that comes with lending to a nation run by idiots.

In her apologia Truss, who still poses as a Thatcherite, no longer sees markets as an expression of the wisdom of crowds, but as a conspiracy to do her down.

“I came to realise there is no such thing as ‘the market’ in this sense. Rather, there are groups of influential individuals in the financial establishment, all of whom know and speak to one another in a closed feedback loop. The Treasury, the Bank of England, and the OBR are deeply embedded in these social networks and share the same beliefs in the established economic orthodoxy."

The markets were at fault for not seeing her financial genius. Financial traders were the world’s unlikeliest lefties. Even though she and Kwarteng fired the permanent secretary at the Treasury and cut out the Bank of England and Office for Budget Responsibility from policy making, they were still, somehow, responsible for Tory failure.

“The powerful vested interests there pushed back, made my life very difficult and ultimately got me fired,” Truss concludes.

Older readers may remember a time when Conservatives insisted on personal responsibility. You were not allowed to blame crime on poverty or your failings on a bad childhood. You were accountable.

But the case of Liz Truss proves that these morality tales were only ever for the poor. In her mind, the economy collapsed not because of decisions she made but because of “a sustained whispering campaign by the economic establishment, encouraged and fueled by my political opponents in the Conservative Party who refused to accept my mandate to lead”.

Trumpism is the end point of such conspiracism and revanchism, and Truss goes all the way down the line to the terminus.

She mutters about the “deep state” a Trumpian phrase she uses without irony or self-knowledge.

And even though her support for Ukraine was her redeeming feature during her time as foreign secretary and prime minister, she is now supporting the pro-Putin Trump and his allies in Congress who are denying aid to Kyiv.

Truss is finished. But the resentment born of failure and the fury at modernity ensures Trump is still very much with us.

If he delights Putin and wins in November, the UK and Europe will learn the hard way that the real threat to Western civilisation comes from Liz Truss and her friends.

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musei-thoughts · 2 months

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𝘎𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳. [𝘉𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳]

02.

𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙘𝙚𝙗𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙨

(𝘢𝘥𝘫.) 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨

𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴:

"Michael Bublé - Sway "

01:57 ━━━━●───── 02:55 ㅤ ㅤ

◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻ ♡

“Care to join me for a dance, dear?” Ran, looking dashing in his suit, extended his hand towards you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. The lively notes of the song filled the hall as the dimly lit dance floor became a stage for you and Ran.

A playful smile graced your lips as you took his hand, allowing him to lead you to the center of the dance floor. The spotlight seemed to find you naturally as it followed your figures every step you made, swaying and moving in perfect harmony with the music.

The pulsating rhythm of the song wrapped around you like an invisible force, compelling your bodies to move to move with the infectious beat. “You’re quite a dancer, sweetheart.” The older Haitani compliments as he holds you close, feet moving in sync as if the two of you have danced together for years.

“I could say the same to you, Ran.”

The other guests couldn’t help but stop in their tracks and conversations, getting captivated by the two of you. Ran’s confident yet smooth moves complimented your grace and elegance, creating a mesmerizing dance that stole the attention of everyone in the room. The atmosphere shifted, and the energy in the air became charged with the undeniable chemistry between you.

Meanwhile, the Bonten men watched in awe. “When the hell did Ran learn cha-cha?” Koko asked. Rindou stared at you and his brother, feeling his chest burn at the looks on your faces as you swayed across the dance floor. It had been so long since he saw his brother genuinely enjoy himself and look so…carefree.

What did you do to him?

As the two of you danced, the world around you faded, leaving only the enchanting melody of "Sway" and the magnetic connection between you and Ran. Your bodies moved seamlessly, responding to each other's cues as if you were in a world of your own.

In the midst of the dance, Ran leaned in, his voice a low murmur against your ear, "You know, you've got the most captivating smile. It's like you're casting a spell on everyone in the room."

You chuckled, the sound blending with the music. "Is that so? Well, maybe it's the music doing its magic."

Ran spun you around, bringing you back into his embrace with a swift movement. "Or maybe it's just the magic between us."

The intensity of your connection was palpable, making it clear that this dance was more than just a simple cha-cha; it was a conversation between two souls wrapped in the enchantment of the music.

As the song approached its climax, Your’s and Ran’s movements became more dynamic, the dance escalating into a passionate display of connection and chemistry. As the final notes of "Sway" resonated in the air, you and Ran slowed your dance, your breaths synchronized as you gazed at each other with a shared understanding.

The audience, initially silent in awe, couldn't resist clapping and cheering, completely captivated by the magic that had unfolded on the dance floor – a captivating dance that left an indelible mark on the memory of everyone fortunate enough to witness it.

You couldn’t help but get shy at the amount of attention that you received, but Ran, still holding you close, grinned at the applause. He led you back to where the Bonten men were standing, the admiration in their eyes reflecting the unspoken acknowledgment of the moment they just witnessed.

The party, however, was far from over. As the dance concluded, the mood in the hall shifted once again. The lights dimmed, and a spotlight focused on the emcee on the stage up at front.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you've enjoyed the festivities so far. But the night is young, and we have one more special event for you – the auction of rare and exclusive items."

The crowd murmured in anticipation as a team of elegantly dressed assistants rolled in a display of items – from rare artworks to high-end gadgets. Mikey continued, "We've gathered some of the finest items for you tonight. And all the proceeds from this auction will go towards a charitable cause."

With the emcee motioning to you, you gave him a nod, turning to Ran and the others, “I have to go, I’ll be auctioneering tonight.” You said to them, leaving them in awe.

The hall was dimly lit, the air thick with anticipation and the hushed murmurs of the criminal elites. You stood confidently on the stage, a sly smile playing on your lips as you prepared to unveil the first item up for bid.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you a piece that is sure to catch the eye of any discerning collector or practitioner of the darker arts," You announced, unveiling a sleek black case.

As the case opened, revealing a set of customized firearms, the crowd's interest surged. The bidding paddles were raised, and you wasted no time initiating the bidding war.

"We start the bidding at ¥690,000. Do I hear ¥690,000?"

A sharp nod from a well-dressed gang member signaled the beginning of the fierce competition. The bids escalated rapidly as rival gang members vied for ownership of the deadly arsenal. You observed with a predatory glint in your eyes, reveling in the chaos you orchestrated.

"¥700,000 from the gentleman in the back. Do I hear ¥750,000?"

The bidding continued, each increment a declaration of power and wealth in the criminal underworld. You maintained a composed facade, allowing the tension to build until the final bid was placed.

"Going once at ¥800,000, going twice..."

A sudden interruption cut through the auctioneer's rhythmic chant. The doors swung open, revealing a group of Sigma gang members, their presence announced by an air of arrogance and superiority. You couldn’t contain your smirk when you saw their boss’ face.

"We'll take it for ¥1,500,000," declared the Sigma leader, a menacing figure with a cold gaze.

The room fell silent, tension escalating as the other bidders hesitated. You seized the opportunity, voice smooth and cutting through the uncertainty.

"Going once, going twice... Sold to Sigma for ¥1,500,000."

A ripple of astonishment and disapproval coursed through the crowd. You locked eyes with the Sigma leader, the man giving you a seductive smirk, thinking that he impressed you by bidding the highest. You rolled your eyes internally, ‘He’s delusional.’

The auction continued, each item presented with flair and intrigue, but the balance of power had subtly shifted. By strategically allowing Sigma to claim the first bid, You had set the stage for a captivating game of manipulation.

People held their breath in anticipation as the next item was unveiled – a mysterious sealed crate, shrouded in an aura of intrigue. You stepped forward and introduced the enigmatic item.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the next item up for bidding is a one-of-a-kind experience. A crate filled with secrets and surprises. What's inside, you ask? Well, that's for the winning bidder to discover," you announced, adding an element of mystery to the proceedings.

As the bidding commenced, you saw Koko and Sigma’s representative raising their paddles with confident smiles. The competition between the two gangs was fierce, but Koko persisted, steadily increasing his bids to 43 million yen. Murmurs circulated through the crowd, curiosity growing about the contents of the mysterious crate.

With each bid, you subtly hinted at the significance of the crate. "Ladies and gentlemen, what's inside this crate holds the key to unraveling recent misdeeds in our community. A Pandora's box of revelations, if you will," she declared, careful to keep her words intriguing yet cryptic.

The atmosphere in the room shifted as Sigma's members exchanged uneasy glances, were they going to risk that much money for something that they do-

“50 million!” Sigma’s boss himself declared, earning gasps from the audience.

Checkmate.

“Going once, going twice…Sold to Sigma for 50 million!

With a triumphant smile, you approached the sealed crate and addressed the crowd. "Thank you all for your spirited bids. Now, let's uncover the secrets within."

The crate was opened to reveal a meticulously arranged collection of incriminating evidence – documents detailing Sigma's involvement in the thefts, alliances with rival gangs, and their betrayal of the allied gangs. Gasps of shock and disbelief echoed through the room as the truth unfolded before the assembled underworld figures.

You, seizing the moment, turned to face Sigma's Boss. "It seems we have stumbled upon a treasure trove of information, dear friends. A snapshot of Sigma's misdeeds. Now, the question is, what should we do with this newfound knowledge?"

“Olivia, you f*cking traitor!” Sigma’s leader cussed under his breath.

“Things had to be done, Ren Ootori.” You mouthed those words to him before giving him a cunning smile.

The revelation had turned the auction into a stage for justice, and you, the cunning orchestrator, had successfully used the platform to expose Sigma's misdeeds. The underworld now watched with bated breath as the powerful gang faced their downfall – all orchestrated by the masterful woman who had turned an auction into a spectacle of retribution. The underworld's most enigmatic figure – You.

Meanwhile, Bonten sat at the very back of the room, watching the scene unfold before them with interest. Dull raven eyes bore into your figure on stage as you subtly smirked in triumph at Sigma's leader.

“She’s just full of surprises, isn’t she, Mikey?”

𝘢/𝘯: 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘥𝘢𝘺'𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳? 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦…𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘪 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺𝘦𝘥 :)

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