#// but either way… welcome to the shitshow

[sifonie]

@gothamsaved liked for a lyric starter !

“Jesus Christ, you act like you don’t know me! Like a trumpet, you can blow me.”

[youcouldmakealife]

SOTM: Luke/Andreas; wined and dined

For the prompt: Andreas and Luke meeting/hooking up the second time

I literally finished this before I realised you guys probably meant like, the second time they hooked up, not the whole second time 'round. Mea culpa, everybody. And for those who interpreted it the same way I did...you're welcome?

Andreas can’t remember the last time he was wined and dined.

Though maybe that isn’t the best way to describe it — Andreas has dinner meetings all the time, has sat beside clients at the best restaurants in almost every NHL city, sampled from the menus of half of New York's most exclusive restaurants. Always on the agency’s dime, of course, or his multi-millionaire client’s, or the teams they play for, or the teams who want to sign them.

There’s plenty of wine involved — though Andreas always restricts himself to a glass when it's business — plenty of dining. But a meeting’s a meeting, whether it’s in a conference room, patiently waiting for a GM who’s been around since there were still six teams in the league to figure out how to unmute his mic, or eating something exceptional at a Michelin Star restaurant.

So obviously that’s not what he means. It’s not that he hasn’t been dating either, though admittedly, he had less and less time to spare for it as he got older. And not that he hasn’t gone on dinner dates specifically, where he allows himself a second glass of wine, orders what he’d like, rather than ‘what he’s having sounds good’, unless, Andreas supposes, it truly does sound good. So there has been wining and dining, in fact. Possibly even a surplus of it.

And yet.

At a certain point Andreas thinks he just stopped expecting romance. It wasn’t any sort of resigned, jaded disappointment at the dating scene. Not that it isn't a shitshow, but it's probably better here than just about anywhere else. More an acknowledgment that most guys didn’t seem to be looking for romance, at least the ones Andreas was dating.

And that was fine, because Andreas wasn’t really looking for it either. Romance was undeniably nice, but he worked long hours, put almost all of himself into his job, and what he had left didn’t require much more than good conversation and some companionship, a spark of attraction, mediocre or better sex. Romance might have come along down the line, but things didn’t tend to last long even when he did find someone who met his simple — yet almost impossible to find — criteria.

That one, he thinks has more to do with him than it does with them. Andreas’ career is one of those things that’s attractive in theory, but significantly less endearing when he’s slipping in and out of bed at all hours, constantly checking his email or ducking out to make a call, flying off to who knows where, sometimes with plenty of notice, sometimes with none at all.

Maybe his life just isn’t conducive to romance. He doesn’t like to think that, but there would be worse things, wouldn’t there? He has a job that he finds fascinating, a job that offers something different every day, a job that, incidentally, pays him more money than he has the time to spend. He could retire tomorrow if he wanted to, live the rest of his life in comfort, dedicate all his time to searching for true love, but why would he want to? It sounds excruciatingly boring.

So he works — he works a lot, works more than he should, at least according to everyone he knows, including Dave, the giant hypocrite — and he — well, he works. But it’s fine. Most people have to search for meaning in his life, but he has his. If anyone asks about it — and they all ask, except Dave, that gem of a fucking man — he says he doesn’t feel like he’s lacking anything. He’s not lying, either.

That doesn’t mean something doesn’t squeeze tight when Luke conveniently ‘happens to be in town’ — though if there’s any town that actually applies to, it’s New York — when he figures they should ‘catch up’. Even as he tells himself that he’s just catching up with an old flame, one who doesn’t even live in the same country as him anymore. Even as he tells himself once for old time’s sake, and then twice doesn’t hurt considering they’ve still got chemistry, then when it’s been three, four, half a dozen, and if Luke’s got a return ticket Andreas doesn’t know when it’s for, but it doesn’t feel like it’s any time soon.

Luke has always been a romantic. He’d deny it up and down if Andreas said it, and it wouldn’t even be a kneejerk macho shit — Andreas doesn’t think Luke even knows he does anything out of the ordinary. Andreas doubts he was thinking ‘I’m going to woo Andreas’ as he asked him out to dinner, not the first time, or the second, not when he came with a bag of groceries and a bottle of wine from a vineyard Andreas mentioned in passing, said he’d cook for him, laughing as he fought with Andreas’ temperamental bottle opener, scoffing when Andreas impatiently intervened before he could ruin a good bottle of wine.

Technically, he doesn’t even know if 'wooing' is Luke’s aim at all. He could just need the change of pace, miss the city, the speed of it, the convenience, and while he was here, Andreas was just as convenient as the rest of it — good conversation, good companionship, Luke more attractive than ever, the sex still fantastic. And they didn’t even have to get to know one another. What could be easier?

But Andreas doesn’t think so, at least not judging by the way Luke’s started looking at him.

Andreas doesn’t think anyone has ever looked at him like Luke does, the complete focus of it. Looking isn’t a strong enough word — it’s more like he’s taking him in, trying make sure that he gets every single detail correct, the way Andreas imagines a painter would gaze at their subject, a poet at their lover. Luke’s no poet, but, well — maybe he is, a little, minus the words. There’s something about the way Luke looks at the world. Something about the way Luke looks at him.

It used to unnerve Andreas, a little, especially because Luke wasn’t only looking at him like that over romantic candlelit dinners and endorphin fueled pillow talk, but also during the most mundane moments. Andreas would be scowling at his phone, pecking out an answer to a client who decided he urgently needed to discuss his contract on a Sunday morning, a full season before it expired, and he’d look up and there Luke was, visibly taking him in. Sometimes there’d be a little smile on his face — the moments Andreas let himself be a little cranky there often was — but often there wasn’t, just Luke’s eyes on him, taking him in like he was never going to see him again.

It was — a lot. Luke was a lot, almost from the very beginning. Andreas thought he was going to get a regrettable hook up out of things, and then he thought it was going to be a few of them, and it was like a switch was flipped, and Luke went from the hot, fun, surprisingly good in bed client Andreas had completely unprofessionally fucked — and not just once, but a few times, and then a handful — to even more surprisingly good company outside of bed, to something Andreas didn’t quite have a name for. Someone who was gone even more than Andreas was, someone Andreas started to miss when he was gone. Andreas was the one staying put, most of the time, but Luke was the one always watching him like he’d disappear the moment he closed his eyes.

The look hasn’t changed, and Andreas imagines it means the same thing now as it did then, Luke who doesn’t blink, Luke who jumps both feet first, Luke the romantic.

It doesn’t feel as overwhelming now, though Andreas suspects he’ll be spending some time thinking about just how quickly Luke was on board. How quick they both were — Andreas can’t pretend he doesn’t know what’s coming, what’s already here, can’t pretend that isn’t something he wants, when he could end things with a word.

But he doesn’t. This time Andreas lets himself look back, and when Luke catches him at it, he doesn’t let himself look away.

[dicktat]

since you're like thee designated Hakon lover in this fandom (/pos) , I was wondering if you could explain his backstory a bit? I'm a new fan and just so confused by his motives

sorry if this is annoying! 😭

Hi!!! Sorry this literally took forever I spent the entire week tinkering with this piece because I would love answering this for you🥺🥺🥺so here’s my comprehensive character analysis on Hakon tho fair warning it’s mostly personal thoughts but I hope you enjoy anyway! Welcome to my absolutely normal and not at all freaky overanalyzing autistic nonsense and definitely filled with all the psychology major knowledge I possess and not what came up on an acid trip

So it all begins here, the man who saved you from the gallows and spared you a life, the whore, the conspirator, the saint. Who is he and what makes him what he is? I’d love to take a crack at it.

Maybe we should start from his flashbacks. I always headcanonned him to be a bit of a nebulous figure, possibly grew up with an unfunctioning household, explains why his marital life is a shitshow. Either learned to be promiscuous from his parents or the other way around, extremely religious ridden family that pushed him to be a helpless romantic horndog. He’s free spirited, as seen from the way he explains his past life, 4 wives, countless partners, the way he met his buddy for life in the military and went broke for his disobedience(he’s probably super rebellious when he’s young), became a taxi driver (yet another free spirited job) and a Nightrunner. We don’t know much about his past but we can probably speculate. For me I kind of like the idea of a young punk player with a vision of helping others, probably once an idealist, but still extremely empathic and caring.

(totally random but here's an old drawing of young Hakon with pretty long hair)

Then the fall happened and everything turned to shit, from what we can gather he defected to the renegades not long after the Nightrunner disbanded, and that's where his suffering all begins. We know he probably was kind of mistreated under Walt's command, you know, the whole renegades not listening to his orders and turning on him thing?

He probably learned to take it laying down, from the way he easily submits everytime Aiden uses force on him, surrendering himself at the hideout and the church typical reaction of an abuse victim but we're not gonna unpack that. We obviously can't say for sure what happened in those years that made him who he is, from a passionate "remember when we used to help others" and romantic youth to...dare some say...villain?

No. I do not believe he’s inherently evil and I think people saying he’s irredeemable is wrong. He’s manipulative, calculated and morally grey, but none of that is without a reason. He lies, deceives and betrays to protect, not just for the ones he love but for himself. See I happen to study a bit of this kind of personality and I can safely conclude he’s doing everything outta FEAR. He’s afraid of loosing his loved ones and that’s why he turned to his enemy, he’s afraid of death so he does whatever to survive, he’s afraid of intimacy so he puts on a deceptive disguise of a playful bastard so he can drown out the voices when he’s terrified and alone.

See this is where I bring out the hottest take of the fandom yet. I think his motivation has always been LOVE, but he always ends up doing the worst thing. He loved Lawan, He loved his unborn child, He probably loved Aiden (platonically or romantically it doesn’t matter) too. But the results? Lawan resented him for ten years and he’s deemed a fraud by everyone he ever loved, his child never got to see the beauty of the world and worst of all he of all people hurt Aiden the most. I think it’s both ironic and poetic that his feelings for his loved ones became his biggest enemy and is the very reason he suffers. He’s creating all the tragedies of his life because he’s a lover first thinker second. If you know a little about MBTI (it’s okay if you don’t you can skip this part) you’d see his extremely obvious ENFJ personality.

Everything he does is outta love (Fe) and intuition (Ni), which is not to say he’s literally mother Teresa because this bitch is complex!!! And with his inferior logical thinking (Ti) he’s kind of dumb at times, because what do you mean this bitch went on ten years without at least sending Frank a message explaining everything.

But the worst thing about him is that he is disordered. None of his motivation is pure and that’s his greatest bane. He’s good but not upfront enough to be honest with the person who he saved, he’s evil but not calloused enough to kill the pilgrim at the bazaar, he’s brave enough to carry all the burdens on himself for ten years but so much of a coward he’s terrified of losing anyone for five minutes. If he was cynical like Waltz he would’ve taken the key and killed Aiden when he was unconscious, if he was a paragon of virtue like Frank he would’ve done everything to ensure the pilgrim is safe. But he’s neither. And that makes his position so much more tragic considering his current reputation, the most deplorable Nightrunner to ever exist and the Saint of all renegades.

And he’s always been just that. His disorderly morals and ambiguous stance in alliance forces him to make decisions that he probably regrets, he’s always in some kind of moral dilemma. Chose between allowing all his friends to die at the VNC tower or risk his reputation and bail, chose between his loved one getting killed by Waltz or become his personal slave for ten years, chose between killing his new found trusting partner or his ticket to a safer life outside the walls.

He’s always hesitant, hell, I doubt he even knows what he wants and always contradicting his words. From the church fight alone he said both "we're not friends, never were" and "consider this a divorce". Is that something a person says if he truly wants you dead? And him immediately ceasing to fight after you initiated understanding is also just him being unsure about his decisions and showing he probably didn't want to do this. Again I'm not downplaying what he did. He's a dick. But not entirely.

I think it's obvious the game doesn't want you to see him as the villain. From all the hints of him not being as bad as others made him to be to Frank being an unreliable narrator(and calling him Satan himself), the game introduced him as something far more malicious than what he really is, and it's from analyzing his actions and motivations that we see he's probably not horrible.

Remember the mural at one of the old houses in Trinity?

Yeah it's a reference missed by many, but I think it truly encapsulates what he is. Not Satan himself or a savior, but rather once an angelic figure turned unsavory. The fallen Nightrunner haunted by guilt and remorse.

I think Lawan's route of killing him really insinuates the point most, from seeing him as the root of all evils to finally putting him under and her only comment is all this time of hunting the devil down, "he just looks...vulnerable".

I am actually so glad you asked this. I’ve seen people argue about it all the time. He’s an extremely complicated character and I think it’s such an injustice to his writing if the audience were to label him “good” or “evil”. He’s well written because he’s ambiguous. And I love to interpret what he is like.

Also my apologies for the crazy essay I wish this satisfied your question and you’re so welcome to ask more. Again there might be some biases in there because I am passionate about his character (also stoopppppppp wdym I’m the certified Hakon lover/pos) thank you for reading this and I hope this fandom treats you well🥰🥰🥰

[cherryblossom-heart]

I loved you once B.B

Bucky Barnes x Reader 

Masterlist

Summary: Loving Bucky Barnes was never easy but breaking your heart seemed to come naturally to him. A love story about your heartbreak,his betrayal and a chance at redemption.

19.1 k words

Content Warning: ANGST, heartbreak, cheating, mature themes, +18 SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (Pussy job, penetrative sex p in v, sad/angry sex? Rough sex mixed with a little pain. It will make sense once you read it) . Fluff, mentions of bad mental health from both Bucky and reader, graphic violence, character's death, mentions of women trafficking as well as assault.

A/N: Wow 19k words. Im sorry this took so long to finish but as you can tell it is super long as I promised. Buckle up y'all, this is sad. Also this is my first time writing a proper cheating fic so if you can/want let me know if you like it or not. You're welcomed to send me an ask with any comments, questions, etc., you have on this 😊

Post dividers by @firefly-graphics and @cafekitsune

Now  

"Fuck you," you spat the words.    

Tears fell from your eyes as they made their way down your neck, making dark spots in the collar of your red turtleneck. Even when pain was drowning you, beauty never left you. Bucky felt as if he were watching a beautiful Renaissance painting—a tragedy of sorts.   

"Is that all? I really don’t have time for this."   

He didn’t recognize his own words or the indifference they came out with. He didn’t mean to say them, but it was as if his own body was working on autopilot, and he was only a spectator to the shitshow it was causing. He wanted to stop. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to say so many things, but the only thing he was capable of was hurting you.   

"Are you kidding me? That’s all you’re going to say?"   

"What else do you want me to say? You know what happened, you saw her with your own eyes. Anything I say is either going to make you angrier or make you cry even more. Let’s just be done with this, you’ll eventually get over it."   

The sound of your hand connecting with his face put an end to his sentence. The hit didn’t feel as such, his skin barely processed it as anything more than a simple graze, but once the initial shock wore off, the sting came along. But it didn’t compare to the pain he felt in his heart when his eyes connected with yours once again.   

"I always knew you were capable of many things, but not once did I think you would ever be this cruel."   

Your eyes drifted to your hands, your right hand playing with the ring you wore in your left. A sigh left your lips, and more tears fell before you finally slid it off your finger, placing it on the table next to you.   

A bucket of iced water. Painful, burning, scorching coldness— that’s how Bucky would describe looking at you while silently breaking your engagement. His mind was telling him to get on his knees, beg, and try to fix everything he had broken. But the darkest part of him, the one that had taken over his life was assuring him you were bluffing. You couldn’t leave, you always stayed. You always fought for him, even when he didn’t deserve it.   

"What are you doing?" he asked, his eyes rolling with the uninterested façade he had perfected.   

"I’m done, I can’t keep doing this anymore." You turned your back, strong and determined steps leading to his apartment door.  

Please, fix this.   

His trembling hands made their way to your wrist, anything that could mend the cracks in your heart that seeped with pain, the cracks he had caused with his own selfishness. Before his fingers could even graze your skin, your hand quickly swatted away his pathetic effort to stop you.  

"God, stop being so goddamed drama—"   

"Don’t fucking touch me. Don’t try to contact me ever again, I won’t answer."   

"Can you just—"   

"If I ever see you again I swear I’ll murder you. I didn’t kill you the first time we met but I swear I’ll do it if you even dare to breath in my direction."   

Your words hurt, it seemed as though each one stabbed him right through the chest in a taunting way, a reminder of how much he had screwed up. Bile rose to his throat when you recoiled at his proximity, and the hate in your eyes burned him with such force that he was sure you wouldn't wait until the next time you met.   

He deserved it either way.  

Bucky's eyes opened just as the car jolted, his heart racing against his chest, his ears buzzing. For a fraction of a second, he's confused, not remembering why he was in the car, but the fogginess of his thoughts was replaced with anxiety when he heard the tracker beeping on Sam's thigh. 

"Good, you’re awake. I think we’re almost there." Sam kept his eyes on the road, occasionally glancing down at the device that told him where to go. Judging by his demeanor, his friend didn’t seem as nervous as he did, if at all. It wasn’t like Sam had a reason to, he was the only one who had fucked up.  

He looked out at the vehicle, and the passing trees in the darkness of the night numbed his mind while he tried to forget about his dream. No, it wasn’t a dream, it was his worst memory to date. Usually, his nightmares were about the crimes he had committed while being the Winter Soldier, and he could blame them on his consciousness not being there with him. His own body didn’t belong to him, so he couldn’t keep blaming himself for the things HYDRA had forced him to do.  

With you, on the other hand, he could not blame anyone else but himself. His mind wasn’t tortured by a secret organization in hopes of ruining his relationship, nor was he forced to hurt the person about whom he cared the most to save thousands of lives. He did it all by himself, and now the nightmares have not only scared him but hurt him all over again.  

You started to show up in his dreams more frequently once Sam told him they needed your help. As expected, the super-soldier's first reaction was total and complete refusal. His friend thought it was a childish reaction the former winter soldier was having to avoid the awkwardness of meeting you again, only knowing your relationship had ended on bad terms without hearing the specifics. But the blue-eyed man wasn’t doing it for himself, he was doing it for you. The night you left, you made it clear you didn’t want anything to do with him, or even anything related to him, your resignation from the Avengers Team and subsequent evaporation from the face of the earth was a strong message to leave you alone.  

After a few hours of arguing, with both men going back and forth on why they did or didn't need you, Bucky finally agreed to go look for you. Lives were at stake, and no matter how hard he tried to look for a solution that avoided you, there seemed to be none. Before he could ask where to even start looking for you, Sam pulled out a device that seemed familiar to a phone. You had given Sam, and only Sam, a tracker that could find you anywhere in the world and could only be unlocked by a password you had whispered to him  

The depth of his tormenting cycle of thoughts didn’t let him register they weren’t on the road anymore until his partner stopped the vehicle. They were surrounded by tall, dense trees, and the crickets and cicadas that hid in the dark made an orchestra that filled the emptiness of the night. Sam grabbed his gear, the sound of a duffle bag being opened broke the rhythm of nature.  

"Why are we stopping here?" Bucky asked with a frown. His own duffle was placed across his back, the tinkering of the metal inside it annoying him slightly.  

His friend threw an annoyed look at him before rolling his eyes and scrambling through his belongings. "As I said like twenty minutes ago while you were brooding and having your own pity party, this thing shows her inside a building in the middle of the woods. I’d like to take a look around the area before going in blind."  

"Oh."  

Normally, the super soldier would’ve had a comeback for the annoying yet harmless insults his friend and partner would throw at him, even a snide comment. But this was different, no matter what Sam would say, he could only think of what was about to happen. So he let it slide, submerging himself in his own thoughts while Sam threw the little flying robot he nicknamed "Red Wing" into the air. Once it was hovering above them and Sam made sure to have full control of it, they began a walk that would last about thirty minutes before the device would find any signs of life.  

Sam and him were waiting somewhere near the alleged building, Sam's robot scanning the surroundings.The thumping in his chest returned, and his fingers became ice cold.He was so close. Close enough to see you, close enough to talk to you, and perhaps close enough to apologize. 

How would you react to seeing him? Would you be happy to see him? Probably not, considering the last thing you said to him was that you would kill him if he ever came near you. He knew he deserved it, but hopefully time changed your murderous resolution. Maybe even forgave him.  

Could you ever forgive him?  

A slight swat from Sam brought him back from his thoughts, silently letting him know they were ready to go. Bucky could sense it before the place was even visible, the vibrations of the music resonating through the ground. The smell of smoke, alcohol, and humanity reached his nostrils right as they saw the line of cars parked in a plain field next to what resembled a warehouse.  

To an untrained eye, it would look like a normal, unsanitary, and probably unsafe rave done by stupid people. But the polarized windows of the cars, the shine coming from the inside of the guards' jackets, and the lot of security cameras installed in the building told another story. Whatever or whoever was in there was dangerous, and as usual, you had gotten yourself in the middle of it.  

Bucky wasn’t an idiot. He knew you couldn’t stay away from helping people, no matter how hard you tried. He saw the breadcrumbs, microscopic, little clues that he could recognize as your style. A missing girl suddenly returning to her family, a kidnapped journalist in the middle of war returning to their respective embassy. A child trafficker falling from his hotel room in the twentieth floor. You had always been... effective when it came to missions, sometimes going overboard with your methods, but Tony, Steve, and himself had always guided you towards the good and righteous path that a person with your abilities was supposed to take. 

You lost all three of them in the span of a year.  

They were lucky that it was relatively easy to get inside, and even luckier that their clothes didn't draw too much attention to them. Sure, they seemed to be wearing more clothes than needed, as most people seemed to enjoy themselves topless and/or pantless, but with the darkness of the room barely being lit by the flashing blue and red lights, no one really noticed them.  

Guys, girls, and people he wasn’t sure how to label were grinding against each other. Hands touched him, pulling his jacket, and he had to push them all away, trying to make his way through the sea of people. The inside of the warehouse could pass for a functioning club, with couches, dance floors, and screens accommodating everyone inside.  

Bucky wasn’t sure he had ever seen anything like this; the debauchery that people showed shocked his old-fashioned ways. He was sure he had seen several people inside each other, whether it was fingers, tongues, or dicks, no one seemed to mind that everyone else could see them. How had you gotten yourself into the middle of this disguised orgy? What were you even doing here?  

Both men made their way to the front of the place, where a private section was installed looking over the dancefloor. Two large guys guarded the stairs that connected the lower and upper levels, allowing mostly attractive girls to ascend. Both men agreed that if you were to be found somewhere, it would undoubtedly be there. They scanned the room, looking for any way they could access the VIP level without having a pair of tits and long legs.  

He had never understood scenes in movies where they showed time slowing down. Every time he had been in a fight, whether it was as himself in the forties or as the winter soldier, everything seemed to happen too fast to process. Even the night you left, time had seemed to go at an abnormally fast pace, and by the time he could finally react the way he wanted, it had been too late.  

He never understood those scenes until he saw you walking to the protective railing surrounding the edge of the private section. Above the deafening music, the moans, and the music, he could hear your voice talking to someone else.  

It was as if he was seeing you for the first time. Your beauty had remained the same your hair, your eyes, and your lips all looked the same, yet his heart started racing just as it did all those years ago. You weren’t dressed like everyone else dancing around him, your black dress with a dangerous deep cleavage was sensuous, but it held a certain level of class that made you stand out from the crowd.  

Thump, thump, thump.  

Time moved at a slow pace, the slowest he had experienced. He was grateful for it, as it allowed him to appreciate every detail from you. The way your lips came close to the drink you had in your hand, the drumming your fingers did on top of the railing, the glint in your eyes—he knew it meant you were lost in your thoughts.   

Bucky had never been more grateful for the way time passed. Until he saw a pair of hands sliding across your waist, fingers gripping your hips so roughly, he was sure they would leave a mark on your skin. A semi-attractive man whispered words in your ear, his beard scruffing against your skin. You smirked, turning around to plaster your lips against his in a kiss that could make a pornstar blush.  

He knew you'd moved on; nearly a year had passed since the last time he saw you, and you'd probably found someone to sleep with, but he wasn't ready to watch you become someone else's. His mind was prepared to face your happiness, but his heart wasn’t. And even now, he was sure you were just tagging along with the man, using him for information for whatever mission you had gotten yourself into, yet he felt as if what remained of his heart had been ripped out of his chest.  

With strong, rough movements, the man turned you around, pressing your body against the railing. As his hand grabbed your neck, your hips grinded against his, your mouth open as you licked your lips. 

The super soldier couldn’t take it anymore, his heart begged him to stop the torture. He wasn’t even sure where Sam was, nor did he care. He cared about you, and he could only think about what he had lost. With the last of his dignity, he began to look away from you and your companion, who had leaned over to your ear once more. Except this time his eyes found Bucky’s, his fingers tightening around your neck.  

He knew. Somehow the man knew who he was and, most importantly, who you were.  

Your eyes widen slightly, searching through the sea of people dancing downstairs. But it didn't take you long to find those blue eyes you once adored. He was there, looking exactly the same as the night you left him, along with your heart.  

"I know who you are." The man whispered in your ear—a threat not so subtly hidden behind every word.  

But you couldn’t dwell long on his words because ice-cold eyes looked back at you. Ice cold eyes brought back the pain you thought you left behind, and the rage surfaced once more as you remembered the promises you made him.  

Cold metal was pressed against your neck, the edge of it grazing your skin. Bucky’s eyes widened in alarm, and his hands turned into fists, making him look like he cared. Like he actually had a heart.  

He barely took two steps in your direction when the wicked smile you wore stopped him. It was sinister. It was deadly. And when you turned to the man to say something, his grip faltered as one word left your lips.  

"Good"  

Your head connected against the man’s nose, a crack let you know it was most likely broken. You barely heard the man’s yells when bullets made their way to you, a couple of them grazing your skin. The room that was once filled with hips swaying, alcohol, and moans had transformed into a frenzy of screams and people running to get out of the building.  

The crowd tried to take Bucky away; their desperate attempts at escaping dragged him away as he fought his way through the sea of people. Seconds passed, and he could hear your grunts as well as more shooting coming from the upper floor, with girls running down the stairs, some of them with splashes of blood staining their clothes.  

He didn’t know whose blood it belonged to, and that frightened him.  

Sam’s voice pulled him out of his trance. "What the hell happened?"  

His friend had managed to make his way to him, both of them still getting pushed around. Bucky offered him a quick glance before resuming his previous task of making his way to the stairs.  

"Her cover is blown," was all the explanation Bucky offered, and somehow it was enough. Before any of them could add anything, screams came from the front door, three bulky men were making their way there while carrying very large and dangerous guns. "Take care of them, I’ll go help her," the super soldier said without leaving any room for discussion.  

When his fingers finally grabbed the banister of the stairs, Bucky was close to losing his mind. Climbing two steps at a time, he finally found himself a scene that froze him in the spot.  

You were there, your black dress ripped in some places, your makeup ruined by mascara running down your cheeks, and blood splashes tainted your flawless skin. Bucky had managed to get there just in time as you twisted a man's arm to an unnatural angle, the crack of his joint popping out of place was followed by his screams. You had managed to kill/knock out everyone except for the guy who had previously had a knife to your throat, and Bucky knew better than to think that was just a mere coincidence.  

After the last man fell to the ground, blood sputtering out of his neck, you lifted your gaze towards him. He couldn’t read you as easily as he had once been able to and he hated it. Before, he was sure he knew you better than you knew yourself, more than once already sure of your likes and dislikes before you asked him for an opinion. He had treasured those times in his mind, and the memories were as comforting as they were painful. A constant reminder of what he had lost.  

He was right there, right in front of you. The man you fell in love with when you still had a heart. The man who still had a tight grip on it and who would probably always own it. He could keep it for all you cared, your heart was tainted with memories you didn’t wish to keep.  

It was the first time both of you were this close, every scream gone as you were absorbed by your own bubble. He looked so familiar that your own body reacted the way it used to whenever you saw him. Your heart stammered in your chest, and even after so long, the butterflies in your stomach appeared for a millisecond. He was the man you had once loved, he was the man with whom you imagined a future together.  

Then, you remembered why all your hopes and dreams had been destroyed.  

Bucky noticed the hurt flashing through your face, your jaw tightening right before you made your way to him. For a moment, he thought you were about to hug him, your desperation to reach him in your long strides mirroring his as his body begged him to touch you. He wanted to apologize, beg for forgiveness at your feet, and profess the love that he wasn’t able to forget.  

Perhaps if his mind hadn't been plagued with all the things he wanted to do, he would’ve noticed your foot rising to give him a solid kick on the chest.  

The force and unexpectedness of your attack launched him back to the railing, throwing him over it. His back landed with a loud thud on the floor, fortunate enough for him, everyone else seemed to have dissipated and his fall wasn’t that high up. A second later, you jumped from the banister, landing on top of him with your knife in hand. Your knee found it’s place on his chest, feet pressing his hands flat on the surface. Before Bucky could even muster a word, the blade was pinned against his throat.  

"I told you if I ever saw you again, I would fucking kill you." 

Then  

Steve had changed so much in the years they had spent apart. His friend, who had once been the fragile little Brooklyn boy he would protect with his life, was now a fully grown man with a strength that could crush a person if he wasn’t careful enough. He was also now his protector, not from bullies that would harass him because of his own stubbornness but from a secret organization that wanted to take over the world. That and his own fractured mind.  

He had lost control once the man had given him the commands to bring back the deadly assassin they had turned him into. He remembered it all, but it had felt as if he was under water the whole time, falling deeper and deeper the more he tried to fight against it. His own body didn’t belong to him, no matter how hard he tried to control it.  

For a year, he had thought it was possible to lead a normal life; his time spent in Romania had given him false hope that he had gotten away from his captors. How foolish he had been, thinking he could ever be far away from his grasps. He wasn’t the man he was before, just a weapon designed to hurt people.  

He supposed he was lucky Steve still saw good in him, at least enough to turn against his teammates and friends to help him clear his name. And now, as they drove to one of Steve’s friends' hideouts, he couldn’t help but feel guilty about everything that was going on. If he hadn’t lost control, Steve wouldn't be a wanted criminal. If he wasn’t captured, a shit ton of innocent, good people would still be alive. If his mind had been stronger, he could’ve broken free of HYDRA's mind control.  

Maybe it would’ve been better if he had actually died when he fell from that train.  

Steve parked outside an abandoned apartment complex, it seemed no one had lived there in years. He threw a questioning eyebrow at Sam, who just shrugged before getting out of the vehicle. Another of Steve’s friends had decided to help him out of loyalty to Steve, not because he particularly liked Bucky or entirely believed in his good side.  

All three men walked inside the building, not a sound inside other than their footsteps and heavy breathing. Steve looked around for a couple of seconds before making his way to the second floor, his intuition telling him where to go. He stood in front of a door with a big C plastered on it, his friend's hand hesitating before knocking on the wood.  

After the third knock came back without an answer, Steve decided to open the door. He had called a name while crossing the threshold, looking around for any signs of life inside the apartment. Bucky was surprised to find the apartment filled with computers, blueprints, documents, and lots of military-grade equipment. Everything gave away the signs of someone working there, yet there was no one who took ownership over them.  

It was too late when Bucky heard you standing behind him, with his feet being swept by your leg and effectively knocking him down. The wooden floor amplified the echo of his fall, catching Steve and Sam’s attention. Your frame landed on top of his, gun aimed directly between his eyes.Bucky's hand reached to grab your ankle in an effort to destabilize you, but the barrel of your weapon was pressed right on his forehead.  

"I wouldn’t do it if I were you," you said coolly. "I promise you, I’ll blow your brains out before you can even land a hit."  

After your words filled the room, Bucky’s eyes finally took their chance to look at you, actually look at you.  

God, you were beautiful.  

Maybe it was only your physical beauty that had taken him by surprise, or the fact that you had taken him down so easily with just one leg movement. Or even the fact that you seemed to have no fear towards a man who was being marketed as a "dangerous and armed terrorist." Whatever it was, Bucky couldn’t deny the fact that you were the most beautiful human being he had seen.  

After a few explanations from Steve’s part and some begging for help, you released the super soldier from your hold, weapon holstered in your back. Your hand extended to help him get off the floor, and you offered him a charming but wary smile.   

You told the three men to make themselves at home and take anything they needed. Bucky had chosen to keep guard, being by himself in the top floor while looking out through a window that hid him from everyone else. He was stewing in his own complicated thoughts when he heard a knock on the wall. You were there, standing a few feet away from him with a shy smile on your face as you extended to him a cup filled with hot coffee.  

Thump, thump, thump.  

"Sorry about the whole thing holding you hostage," you said as he welcomed the cup.  

His fingers accidentally grazed against your own, and it was as if he had touched electricity itself. Heat extended from his hands all through his body, and his ability to think was thrown out of the window. He looked at you, and he couldn’t tell if you felt the same or not, but he could feel how your eyes burned him, with a curiosity behind them that was so easy to read that he was surprised you were the black ops/spy Sam had told him.  

"It’s whatever, I would’ve done the same thing if I were you." Bucky answered after a few seconds.  

He turned to look through the window again, trying to keep his thoughts in order. You settled down next to him, the warmth of your skin reaching his own. Nothing could be heard other than your breathings, not even the cars outside or the sound of the busy city that hid you. And for the first time in a long time, Bucky felt relaxed with someone he didn’t know from the past.  

"I’m James."  

He could’ve sworn he heard you smile before you gave him your name. 

Now  

"What the fuck are you doing here, Barnes?"  

The music was still on, as were the blue and red lights that lighted up the darkness in the room. Bucky could feel the breeze of your breath on his face and the smell of expensive whisky and tobacco in every word you said. He wasn’t surprised, the man that you knocked out probably tried to impress you with them.  

But behind the traces of blood, alcohol, and gunpowder, he could smell your shampoo. The same peony smell mixed with lavander filled his nostrils, and it brought him back to the many nights you had spent together. Your fingers were drawing circles on the skin of his back, and his nose was buried in your hair.  

You, on the other hand, were reminded of the suffering he caused you with every passing second.  

"I told you to stay away from me," you muttered.  

Your hand pressed the edge of the blade on his skin, and you were sure if you kept going you were going to start drawing out blood, but you couldn’t care less. Bucky Barnes had always been an expert at instilling unwanted emotions in you, and it was difficult to keep those emotions at bay right now. 

You felt anger. You felt resentment. You felt pure, long-lasting hatred.  

"Maybe I should slit your throat right now, that’ll make you stay away from me permanently."  

Your words were intimidating, filled with the same promise you had made him that fateful night. This was his chance, his chance at the apology that had died out in his throat when you closed the door behind him. This was the chance he had chased in his dreams for almost a year.  

But he couldn’t say anything.  

He loved you. God, he loved you so much. He missed seeing your face other than in the few pictures he kept or in the memories that did no justice. Because even now, as you threatened to kill him, you were a dream come true, just like the first time he saw you. 

"Say something!"  

"You’re beautiful."  

Your grip faltered on the knife, your eyebrows slightly furrowing at his words.  

No, he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t come back out of nowhere, say some cheesy, basic compliment, and make the walls of hate you had built crumble. Even if he had only managed to knock down one brick, he didn't deserve it. You knew it, he knew it, and everyone else who knew what happened between you two knew it.  

Then why did your heart flutter at his words?  

"Hey," Sam said, breaking the silence, your head snapping in his direction."I know he’s an asshole, but I would appreciate it if you didn’t kill my partner."  

You look back at Bucky for a few seconds before giving up, throwing your knife to the floor. Sam leaned over, his hand extended to help Bucky get up.Your murderous eyes went from Bucky to Sams, your gaze softening at his friend.  

"I told you to only contact me in emergencies," you grumbled.  

A hiss left your lips when you touched your arm, one of the bullet wounds was still seeping blood. Bucky thought about telling you something, but this time he listened to the rational part of his brain that told him to shut the fuck up.  

"Believe me, if we had a choice, we wouldn’t have come," Sam said.  

Your eyes flickered between both men, not convinced about helping them. Well, on helping the blue eyed super soldier. A pathetic excuse for why you couldn’t help them died on your lips once you saw his blue eyes. Please, help us they begged.  

You didn’t owe him anything. You shouldn’t help him, but in the back of your head, Steve’s voice rang through. Good ol’ Steve Rogers and his everlasting moral lessons. That's what we have to do, he said. 

So you put aside your feelings because helping people mattered more than an idiot who broke your heart.  

"What do you want?" You sighed.  

"We’re looking into something... odd. A bunch of pregnant women missing, still in their early stages of pregnancy. Most of them show up dead after giving birth, but the babies are nowhere to be found."  

You shrug. "They take the kids, so?"  

It was cold, you were aware of it. But after the things you had seen, the things you had done, you were aware that people kidnapping woman for their babies wasn’t something out of the ordinary, let alone something that required Captain America to look into it. Things like that were always forgotten, pushed back into a slew of cases alongside more missing women. 

"They had traces of the super serum."  

Fuck.  

You laughed. A joyless, cynical type of laugh. Destiny, of course, had to be a jerk. 

"Well, you’re in luck. I think we’re tracking down the same people." Sam raised an eyebrow at you with a simple request for you to elaborate. "A girl showed up dead in México a couple of months ago, she’d been missing for almost a year. Autopsy showed she had a miscarriage before dying, the bleeding killed her. The remains had traces of the serum too."  

"Are you saying that—?" Sam couldn’t finish his sentence, the thought sending chills along his spine.  

"Yeah."  

The air is somber between the three of you. Sure, the flag smashers were a problem when they appeared, as you knew from all the news reports you'd seen.People with ten times the strength of a normal human being were dangerous, especially if they were associated with a terrorist organization. 

This was different, though. This was sinister.  

Groans coming from the top floor broke the eeriness that surrounded you, making you finally remember why you were here. You tore apart part of the black dress that was once pristine and wrapped it around your arm.  

"Look at this guy over there," you said, motioning behind you. "He has intel on this, he’s the one that gets the girls and delivers them."  

"Well, let’s take him in and—"  

You cut Sam off. "No. Look, you came looking for me because this is my specialty. I know how to handle guys like him, and I sure as hell know he won’t tell us shit if we take him to a precinct and threaten him with some jail time. He’s a big fish. A few phone calls and he’ll be out in no time." They knew you were right, but they didn’t like your arguments. "We do this my way, or you better pray you find them before I do."  

Sam looked hesitant. He knew what you were going to do to the man, and his good conscience chastised him for even thinking of letting you torture someone. But the rational part, the part that knew that in this case there wasn’t much of an option, knew that they needed you, and perhaps you also needed them.  

"Just, don’t kill him." Sam said before walking away.  

Compromise. You could do compromise.  

"Fine," you said, rolling your eyes. 

After Sam slammed the door shut on his way out, you were reminded of the fact that you weren't alone. Bucky’s eyes were already looking at you, the same apologetic eyes you had seen before you kicked him in the chest.  

"Thanks for helping us." He spoke, thinking it was an appropriate way to break the ice, but it only managed to make you scoff.  

"Let’s make something clear, I’m not doing this for you." you spat. "I’m doing this because Sam needs my help and so we can save those innocent girls and stop any more from being taken. This doesn’t change anything between us, as soon as this is over, you go back to leaving me the fuck alone, got it?"  

Say something. Fight for her. Explain what happened, his mind begged him.  

But he couldn’t, because even if it had been almost a year since he last saw you, he was still the same coward who let you walk away without a fight.  

So he agreed.  

"Yeah."  

"Good. I’ll meet you outside." 

Then  

"Thanks for the coffee." Bucky said before taking a sip.  

Droplets of water fell from his forehead, a strand of unruly black hair was hanging on the side of his eyebrows. The towel that hung from his waist, showing his torso all the way down to that sculpted V of his abdomen, made it too difficult to concentrate on the files you were trying to organize.  

The man was hotter than the sun.  

"No problem." you smiled at him.   

You had no idea it would be the best and worst decision you'd ever made when you suggested Bucky stay with you while Steve went to rescue the others.You liked Bucky, and the few days you spent with him while Steve and the others gathered everything they needed so they could go find Zemo had been nice. Sure, he was a man of a few words, but it didn’t bother you. It was weirdly comforting to be able to enjoy someone’s company in silence. And the times he spoke, he did it out of pure curiosity, curiosity about the world, about what had happened while he was in the ice, but mostly about you.  

He asked about your cases, how you met Steve, and how you came to partner with some of the most powerful people in the world. He asked about your life, about your childhood in the orphanage, and what made you choose to help people. He asked so many questions, yet he still respected you when you didn’t want to answer some of them. He asked, not to pry, but to get to know you, and in return, when you asked him something, he was as honest as he felt comfortable being.  

And that was the problem. No matter how much you tried, you knew your days with Bucky Barnes were numbered. Ever since you were young, you knew that being in this line of work would prevent you from having a normal life. You couldn't have a normal relationship. You weren’t meant to have the love story your favorite movies portraited, the white picket fence and the family of five wasn’t in your future.  

Neither was he, maybe in the forties he would’ve came home from war and found himself a pretty girl to marry. But now, after everything he had seen and everything he had unwillingly done, he probably wouldn't want a relationship any time soon. Or maybe not at all.  

But after three weeks of being cramped up in the same little apartment, you were getting used to him. You had developed a little routine together that always ended up with a cup of coffee at the end of the day. Sometimes both of you would just sit in silence, taking in each other's company while you sipped on your cups. Other times, just like now, he would sit next to you as you watched whatever movie you had decided to put on.  

You had to cut this at the root before it became too hard to let go.  

"So, you’re going to Wakanda?"  

He sighs. "Yeah. Steve says they have someone that might be able to help with... help with my..."  

"I know." You finished for him, suddenly placing your hand on top of his. He tensed at your touch, both of you looking down at your hands before you took away yours, embarrassed at your own lack of control. "Well, if you’re not too busy there, I could go visit you sometimes."  

"You would?" he questioned.  

"If you want me, too," you shrugged, trying not to reveal your excitement. 

He looked at you, his thoughts unreadable through his face. For a moment, you thought he was going to reject your offer, but something changed in his eyes. He smiled, the faintest, littlest hint of a smile you had seen, but it was there.  

You made him smile for the first time.  

"Yeah. I’d like that."  

If someone were to ask Bucky when he first felt he could love you, it would be right now. With the dim light of the TV lighting up your face and a shy smile on your lips as you told him you were willing to travel such a long distance just to see him.  

And as you lay next to him, your head against his shoulder, you thought to yourself that maybe you could be selfish for once and allow yourself to enjoy his company a bit more. 

Now  

There were drops of water leaking out of a pipe, he could hear them from the other side of the room. Everything around him was dark, it seemed the only source of light was on top of him and the woman on the floor pleading for her life.   

"Please don’t do this," she begged with a Spanish accent. "I don’t want to die, please."   

He wanted to move, he wanted to throw away the gun in his hand, but it was like he was a spectator of his own life. His body was not his, or his breathing. Not even his heartbeat listened to the inner panic attack he was having. Nothing belonged to him.   

"Kill her," a distorted voice told him. His eyes glanced at him quickly, and he noticed the man had no face. No one around them had one.   

Everything felt like it was in slow motion. His finger moved, pressing the trigger of the gun, but he refused to give up. He had to try, even if his own consciousness was trying to kick him out, sucking him into the pool of darkness he had been resting in for a long time.   

But even if he tried for years, he couldn’t win. He was powerless.   

Broken.   

He could only witness how the other "him" obeyed. The woman's eyes changed from scared to lifeless in less than a second. A splash of crimson staining his combat boots kept his attention. He couldn’t hear what the other people in the room were saying, he didn’t exist anymore, or he didn’t want to. The sound of the water leak was deafening now. Growing louder and louder until it consumed everything around him   

He didn’t want to be awake. Not like this.   

And as he felt himself disappearing, he hoped this was the last time he came back to the surface. He would rather be surrounded by emptiness.   

Yet something interrupted him, pulling him back up.   

A woman's voice, so familiar it made his heartbeat change.   

"Bucky!"  

Bucky's eyes opened wide. His head was spinning, his breathing was rapid, and his heart felt like it was going to burst through his chest. The adrenaline in his system made him dizzy, and he could feel his hands shaking. And he was feeling. A lot. Scared, angry, hopeless. So many emotions constricted his chest, burying him under their weight.  

"Bucky," you repeated. His head snapped at you, showing you a pair of wide, terrified eyes.  

Your feet almost moved. A pure protective instinct filled you with dread at the fact that you couldn’t help him anymore. Your head and your heart were in conflict. In one hand your heart begged you to go to him, stroke his back as you peppered kisses along his shoulder. Then you would lie back in bed while your hands surrounded his body, your front pressed to his back in a way to say, I’m here, I love you, and everything will be alright.  

On the other hand, your brain told you to turn in the other direction. Walk away from the night terrors that plagued his mind and let him suffer in silence. He wasn't your responsibility anymore, and you shouldn't be concerned about helping him with whatever was wrong with him. 

Was it possible to hate and care about someone at the same time?  

"Nightmares?" you couldn’t help yourself from asking. 

His left hand rubbed his eyes, a sigh leaving his lips. "Yeah. Sorry if I woke you up."  

"You didn’t."  

You sat at the table in front of the couch he was lying on, a steaming cup of lavender tea between your hands. The cling of the spoon clashing against the ceramic filled the uncomfortable silence between you.  

"Where’s Sam?" he asked, sitting straight as a couple of droplets of sweat fell down his forehead.  

"He has a contact in the city. He left to meet them."  

"Oh."  

Whatever else he was about to say died on his lips. You noticed he seemed to do that often since meeting again, his eyes speaking the words he would never say. Sometimes you would catch him looking at you, the frown on his forehead deepening with the passing of time. It made you wonder if he would now be open to answering your questions.  

"He said you’re going to therapy."  

He was taken aback by your question. It probably was the first time you said more than the necessary to him. Also, it was the first time that you showed any sort of interest in his life.  

"Uh, yeah. Court mandated."  

You hummed, sipping on your tea.  

"Does it work?"  

You saw the hesitance in his eyes. The way his jaw clenched and his grip on the couch made his knuckles white made you think he was about to change the subject with a witty, bitter, or sarcastic remark, or maybe even just ignore the question at all. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did, by the end of your relationship, he was an expert in it.  

Bucky didn’t change much after all, you thought to yourself  

But he broke the silence.  

"In some ways." he started, his gaze dropping to the floor. "The nightmares don’t come as often anymore, and I don’t feel the need to shoot every asshole that drives a shitty car with a shitty exhaust pipe." You chuckled at his confession, making a slight smirk show on his face. "But she’s too much."  

"What do you mean?"  

He sighed. "She pisses me off. I hate that she keeps trying to make me feel better by just saying my life is better now and I shouldn’t feel like shit anymore. But it’s not that easy. Just like it’s not easy to follow the stupid set of rules she gave me."  

He looked up to see your reaction to his words, expecting to see the same hardened look you’ve given him the past couple of weeks. And it was just that what greeted his eyes, your lips slightly pressed together and your eyes decorated with a slight scowl that only showed up for him.  

But behind the tough exterior, he could see your eyes had softened. For a brief second, your eyes showed care and understanding to what he siad before going back to the usual void stare you gave him.  

"She sounds like a bad therapist." He shrugged in agreement, he couldn’t say anything against the truth. "She also sounds like a bitch."  

He laughed. The type of laugh that caught him off guard and made his lungs run out of air. Granted, your joke might’ve not been as funny as his laugh was giving it credit for, but he had always been fond of your bluntness.  

You couldn’t help but laugh with him too.  

Laughing with Bucky felt foreign yet so familiar at the same time. It felt like reminiscing on a memory you didn’t remember you had, a bittersweet memory that brought back the same good feeling of the memories you built together  

But moments like that couldn’t last forever. Your heart couldn’t afford to remember.  

A text message from Sam lit up your screen, saying his contact had useful information. You stood up from the table after texting him back and drank the rest of the cup's contents. 

"You should try to get some sleep, we have a long day ahead."  

His shoulders dropped slightly.  

"Yeah, you’re right. I’ll try to."  

With nothing left to say, you walked away, leaving Bucky in the loneliness of the night.   

You didn’t go right away to the room you had adopted as your own, though. He heard you going through the kitchen, a dim sound of clinking and pouring reaching him due to his enhanced hearing. He didn't think anything of it; maybe you needed more tea before going to bed. 

Your steps brought you back to him before you placed an object on the coffee table right beside him.  

A cup of lavender tea. 

Then  

"It’s kinda late to be outside, huh?"  

Bucky jolted at the sound of your voice, your presence taking him by surprise. He was completely sure that when he left a couple of hours ago his house was empty and you hadn’t sent a message of your arrival.   

Something had happened? Was someone injured? Were you in trouble?  

His questions died on his lips as you cut the space between you and him short, your arms tightly embracing him. Your head found its place in the crook of his neck, his long hair falling on your face. His hands took a second to respond, but they eventually wrapped around your waist, bringing you closer to his chest.  

You stayed like that for what felt like ages, just taking in each other's warmth. He missed you, even if he tried to deny it every time his thoughts would wander to you. He tried to convince himself that his reclusion made him miss everyone he considered a friend, and in a world where everyone seemed to want him dead, you were one of the few people he trusted.  

He had been staying in Wakanda for nearly six months, and out of those six months, you had visited him at least once every month. The duration of your trip would vary, sometimes you would stay only a few hours, with most of your time spent in his hut while sharing stories of the outside and his progress. Other times, you'd stay for days, with the longest stay being a week and a half. In those cases, he would show you the surroundings, the forest that surrounded the back of his hut or take you on a long walk alongside the river that crossed his home. Sometimes you'd sit outside and stare at the stars, your only company being the animals and the flora. 

He also came to hate every time you would leave, feeling like a part of himself was leaving with you.  

One of his hands landed on the side of your hips, the other searching for your face.Your grip on him grew tighter once his fingers brushed the skin on your face but you eventually let go, allowing his hand to guide you slightly away from him.  

"What happened?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.  

You didn’t respond, but one look into your eyes, and he knew the answer. Whatever it was, it had affected you to the core, the broken look in your eyes could only be compared to the one he saw every time he looked at his reflection in the mirror.  

His forehead rested on yours, both your eyes closing at the contact.  

"It’s ok. I got you."  

His hand found yours as he guided you toward his bed. It wasn’t until then that he noticed you still had your tactical gear on, dirt and crystals still hiding in some places. He grabbed the buckle of your vest, his eyes asking for permission to get it off. A slight nod gave him the confirmation, beginning the process of somewhat freeing you of the events you had seen. He got rid of his own garments too, leaving you both standing in front of yourselves with only underwear covering you. He dragged you into bed, your frames covered by the light white sheets on his bed. 

Not many times had he allowed himself to think of you in a sexual manner, knowing how his body would react in a lustful way. But as he found himself looking at you with barely any clothes on, the desire was left on the back burner of his brain. You needed him. You needed his comfort, and he was more than willing to give it to you.  

He would give you anything you asked for.  

His hand rested on your face, tracing circles across your cheek, your eyes closed at the soothing action.  

"I’m sorry." Your voice trembled. He could see you wanted to say more, but words failed to come out of your mouth  

Bucky’s heart ached. He had never seen you in such a vulnerable state, and his mind was going cray at the thought of not being able to do anything to help you.  

"It’s ok, sunshine. You don’t have to talk about it."  

So you lay there, head against his chest, as he kept you between his arms, with nothing other than the sound of the crickets outside his hut surrounding you. And for the first time in a long time, you felt what being loved felt like.  

That night, you kissed him for the first time. You didn’t stop, not even the next morning when he woke you up with breakfast already made and a cup of lavender tea. 

 Now  

"Bring him to the table!" you yelled.  

Your hand swept across the surface, knocking over every piece of paper, pencil, and piece of equipment. The vibrations of the heavier objects on the concrete floors matched the beating of your heart.  

Bucky dropped Sam on the table. The man had gone unconscious on the ride to the safe house, the bullet wound that oozed liquid crimson was most likely the cause.The same crimson color now stains Bucky's clothes, and his leather gloves were also covered in a thin layer of it.  

You brought your knife to slash through his clothes, the sharp metal cutting through them as if they were butter. The hole on his shoulder seemed to have no exit, the bullet was still inside him. You were glad Sam wasn’t conscious for the next hour.  

The super soldier hovered over you for the entirety of the time you spent cleaning through the fragments that splintered from the bullet. Everything went relatively well until Sam started waking up, his body contorting in pain as you dug through his wound. Bucky brought him a bottle of vodka while you injected him with some local anesthesia.  

Hours later, the wounded man was now resting on the only bed the safehouse had, his breathing bringing great comfort as it meant he was still alive. After half a bottle of vodka and a some painkillers diluted on his IV, you were sure he wouldn’t wake up until tomorrow.  

The faucet sprayed cold water onto your palms. Your nails desperately tried to scrape away the traces of blood that still lingered in your skin, leaving red marks all across your knuckles. Dirt and dried blood were trapped underneath your fingernails, and no matter how much you tried to dig it out, it would stay right there.  

Bucky’s footsteps brought you out of your trance, the heavy sound of his combat boots felt deafening with each step he took. You tried to tune him out, focusing once again on the sound of water, but it seemed as if Bucky had made it his purpose to be as loud as possible. You held onto the sink so strongly that you were sure it would snap.  

A deep rage came from your stomach, spreading all over your body. The anger constricted your chest in such a way that you weren’t sure if somehow you were buried under a collapsed building, its weight invisibly crushing you.  

It was his fault. It was all his fault.  

You didn’t remember walking outside the bathroom, nor did you remember walking up to him and slapping away the cup of water his hand held.  

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" you barked at him.  

"I—"  

"I gave you one task. You had to wait until I gave you the signal so you could come in. Not guns blazing, not punching everyone that comes your way, not drawing everyone's attention to us. Your only fucking job was to wait for the distributor to show up and wait for my goddamn signal."  

"What did you want me to do? Just stand there and do nothing?" he argued.  

You were taken aback by his response. Part of you expected him to just let you scream at him and give you the same soft eyes he always gave you when you spoke to him.You weren't expecting him to snap back at you or to defend himself. 

Maybe if things hadn’t gone sour between you two, you would’ve listened to what he said, and in return, he would’ve listened to you. But the anger was too strong to be subdued.  

"I wanted you to follow the fucking plan."  

"He was about to torture you!"  

Bucky's thoughts returned to the old factory turned whorehouse.The way you had purposefully gotten caught and how they had tied you to an exposed pipe line. He could still hear the sound of the man’s hand smashing against your cheek.  

"I can handle myself! I told you guys to stay put until the distributor was there. He knows I’m after him, and this was our only chance to catch him. And now he’s god knows where and Sam got fucking shot."  

A heartbeat passed before Bucky came close to your face. His big frame towered over you, and his breathing hit your face.  

"You’re fucking delusional if you think I was just going to let anything happen to you."  

You scoffed, "Oh, so now you care?"  

"I’ve always cared."  

You pulled away from him, your eyes rolling at his pathetic words.  

"Sure."  

Perhaps it was the fact that you had been in danger no longer than a couple of hours ago, or maybe it was the heat of the fight that had left some residues on him. Whatever it was, it made Bucky courageous enough to reach for your arm.  

"Look at me."  

You swatted him away.  

"Don’t fucking touch me."  

But this time he wasn't going down without a fight.Not again.  

"I know I was an asshole at the end of our relationship, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care for you anymore."  

A bitter laugh came out of you. All of this had to be some sick joke. "When you care about someone, you don’t treat them like that. You didn’t care about me, and you sure as hell didn’t love me."  

His hand tried to touch you again, and this time you let him. You were tired. Tired of fighting with him. You closed your eyes as soon as his skin came in contact with yours, his touch consuming all of your senses.  

You opened your eyes to find him staring back at you, the blue eyes that once hurt you shining the same way they did the first time you kissed him.  

"I did love you," he whispered into your lips. "I still do."  

His words burned you like someone had branded you with hot iron in the chest.Even after all this time, he could still hurt you, Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? Why did he have to bring back the past you so fiercely tried to leave behind?  

"Don’t." Your lower lip quivered. "Y-you can't just break my heart and then come back into my life and just say you still love me."  

"I never stopped loving you."  

Those five words were all it took to tear down what little control you had over yourself. A year ago it would've broken you to hear them but now they only brought a deep sense of indignation. 

With a quick move, you pulled his hand away from you, your hands pushing against his chest until he hit the wall. You wanted him to hurt. You wanted to carve his heart out of his ribcage and throw it far away, maybe then he would understand what it felt like.  

"Where was your love when I needed it, huh? Where was your love when I had no one else? Where was your love when I reached for you every night but you were already gone? Where was your love when I begged you to love me, to be there for me?" Your hands were clutching his jacket, and your vision was blurred by tears."Where the fuck was your love when you brought that girl to your apartment?"  

Bucky never saw you like this, not even when he stomped on your heart with his indifference. Under the anger, the hate, and the surface indifference you showed him, he could see how broken you were. He could see how you were constantly struggling to put the pieces of yourself back together that he had torn apart. 

He hated himself for extinguishing parts of you. 

"I’m sorry."  

A lapse of judgment.  

That’s what you would tell anyone who asked you why you kissed Bucky that night. You would say that you had been blinded by the pure rage his mere presence would bring you. Or perhaps you would take the easy route and you would say that with everything that happened that night, almost being tortured and Sam getting hurt, you had acted in a primitive instict of searching comfort.  

The truth was different. You could lie to yourself and say that you didn’t needed Bucky, not after all the things he had done. You lied to yourself constantly when you told yourself you were over him. You also lied to yourself when you claimed that your one-night stands had fulfilled you in the same way that Bucky had. 

You couldn’t feel anything, not ever since you walked out of his apartment. You had tried different people, different cities. You had tried different alcohols and different drugs. You had tried anything that could help you fill the emptiness that had found a permanent home inside you. You felt nothing, not until you saw those cerulean eyes again.  

Your kiss was aggressive, your lips smashing against his with strength and your hands finding their place in the back of his head. It took a second for Bucky to kiss you back as he thought his mind was playing tricks with him. But after you pressed yourself against his chest, his body reacted on muscle memory alone, his arms surrounding your waist.  

It wasn’t what you expected, though. You thought that the specks of love that remained between you would be enough to bring back whatever it was that you were missing. Instead, you were met with the most intense hatred you've ever felt, mixed with the melancholy of what could've been. 

He tasted like the past, but he still hurt like the present.  

So you made a decision.If you couldn't bring yourself to love Bucky Barnes anymore, you would hate him with all that remained of your soul. You would hate him until both of you burned in the flames of your agony. You'd despise him until you'd ripped every part that matched the ones he'd so easily broken. 

"I hate you," you whispered between kisses. "I fucking hate you."  

Your words were daggers to his heart. His chest tightened, and his grip on you faltered for a second before he snapped out of it. This wasn’t about him. If you needed to tell him how much you despised him, he would gladly let you kill him with your words. It was the least you deserved.  

"I know," he mumbled against your lips.  

He felt your body guiding him through the room until the back of his legs hit against the couch where he would sleep. Your hands pushed against his chest, making him sit on the couch while you straddled his lap.  

Clothes flew across the room, and you found yourself tearing his shirt apart in two while he only pulled yours off.You'd worry about that later; right now, nothing was more important than feeling your skin against his. 

Your hands traveled over his chest, fingers grazing every part of his abdomen as you trailed down to his zipper. You palmed him over his jeans, his cock already hard, and you felt it twitch against the fabric with every touch you gave him. Groans left Bucky’s lips.  

"I hate you," you repeated as a mantra.  

He shouldn’t make you feel this way, but as you see his head going back when your hand opened his fly and found it’s place around his cock you felt your own desire pooling in your lower belly and the aching in your core became unbearable.  

With swift movements, Bucky got rid of his pants and his underwear while you remained on top of him. With your frame still covered by a black lace bra and your black tactical pants on, he couldn't help but feel exposed when he looked at you.Deciding he didn’t wanted to be the only one naked his hands went to the side of your hips in efforts to get you rid of the fabric but your hand swatted him away.  

Beg me, your eyes said.  

For a moment, he considered tearing your pants apart the same way you had done with his shirt. However, the seriousness behind your eyes warned him that he might end things too soon if his stubbornness got in the way. So he gave in.  

"Please, Sunshine." His hands gripped your waist, his hips grinding against your still-wrapped core, sending shivers down your spine."Please, let me see you."  

You relented, unbuttoning your pants and throwing them away with your panties. In what were the longest seconds of Bucky’s life, you unclasped your bra, finally getting rid of the last barrier your body held on to.  

You stood there, completely naked, staring at Bucky.He remembered the way your breasts felt when he held them. He remembered how soft your skin was. He remembered that if he bit on the skin of your neck, right where the jugular is, you would clench around him. He remembered. In the lonely nights when he needed some release, he would close his eyes and imagine your lips around his cock as he fisted himself in the solitude of his apartment. 

All those memories didn’t compare to watching you in the flesh, with hungry, hateful eyes on him as you walked back to straddle him again.  

His cock twitched once your legs fell to his sides, the heat of your body settling on his crotch. You sat on top of him, your wetness welcoming him once you lowered yourself. His length placed itself right between your lips, and a groan left him.  

"Fuck."  

Your hips began rocking in slow but sharp motions as he felt his cock coated with your slick. Slowly, you built up a rhythm that made both of you moan. His hands landed again on your hips, his fingers pressing on your skin in a way that was certain to leave bruises the next day. Your own hands gripped on Bucky’s biceps for stability, and you squeezed them every time you would feel him brushing against your clit.  

You felt amazing on top of him, but that wasn’t what made his heart pound against his chest.  

It was your eyes. Your eyes never left him, no matter how much pleasure you were pulling from both of you and how badly you wanted to roll your eyes as the coil inside of you tightened. Your eyes, which once showed him what love could look like, now looked at him with a simmering hatred he could not shake.  

His chest tightened at the thought of never seeing them again. The electricity that ran through his body was replaced by a deep sense of hopelessness, and the more he kept his gaze on you, the more it amplified. You must’ve sensed the change in him because your movements stopped.  

Broken eyes now stared at you with the ghost of tears in them. The anger that had driven your actions and your thoughts through all this had now subsided, allowing itself to mix with melancholy.   

I love you. I’m sorry. I miss you. His eyes said.  

I hate you. I’ll never forgive you. I wish I never met you. Yours answered.  

And in the middle of the lust that was taking place right on the couch, both of your hearts broke again.  

You pulled him back for a kiss that tasted of desperation and sorrow as tears fell from both your eyes. The saltiness of the tears bled into the kiss and mixed with it.Quickly, your hand guided his tip to your entrance. You needed him inside you like a person lost in the desert needs water. You craved him with every cell in your body, and it tore your heart apart.  

"So tight." He moaned in your mouth as you sank into him.  

The stretch of his length burned as you forced yourself to take him fully. It hurt, and even with your arousal completely covering him, you weren't prepared to take his thick length.You didn’t care though, you hoped it would make you forget your heartbreak. Bucky tried to stop you as he felt you struggling to take him in. His hands held your waist, but you shook your head before you started bouncing on him.  

You didn’t want love from him. You didn’t want tenderness or care. You wanted roughness. You wanted strength and aggressiveness until the only thing you could feel was the ache between your legs.  

The super soldier gave you what you wanted.  

Bucky’s pace was brutal, his cock hitting the sweet spot only he could reach. The sound of his hips colliding with yours filled the room, bouncing off the walls and echoing through the hallway outside.In the back of his mind, Bucky was thankful Sam was knocked out with meds so he could be spared from the obscene orchestra your bodies played.  

The pain quickly turned into pleasure. Your walls hugged him tightly, each thrust carried a strength that left you breathless. At some point your legs had given in, the only reason why you kept bouncing was the snap of his hips pushing you. He didn’t let go of you though, instead he pushed you against his chest in an embrace that surrounded you tightly.  

Your head rested against his while your hands stayed on his chest. The sadness that mixed with the pleasure numbed everything else except for the bubbling up of your release. It pained you to admit that no one else could make you feel like Bucky, you had tried to find someone who could replicate what his touch could do for you, but no one ever came close.  

You hated how much you missed him and how much you needed him.  

"I wish you would’ve stayed dead." you panted. The poison behind your words shredded his heart. He knew you were saying it to hurt him, he knew you didn’t mean it, but the conviction behind it felt like a kick in the chest. "I wish we never brought you back."  

"Me too." he finally admitted.  

Bucky felt your walls constrict around him, and he could tell you were close. He drew you in for one last kiss, the kind that took your breath away. The type of kiss that was a solace in a world of agony. The type of kiss that meant a promise that carried forever.  

You tightened around him as you came, and his thrusts slowed down as he rode you through your high. As you closed your eyes, more tears fell from the corners, so he reached out to wipe them away.Once you had recovered a little, his brutal pace came back, this time chasing his own release. You brought your lips to kiss his neck, feathery, soft kisses, and he felt his balls tightening. He was so close.  

He tried to pull out so he could fist himself to the end but you didn’t budge, instead whispering in his ear.  

"Inside."  

He came harder than he had done in the last year. You felt his cock twitching inside as he covered your walls with his cum, the mess between your release and his own dripping out of you. You kept bouncing on top of him, making sure to return the favor by guiding him all the way through the end.  

You stood up, the feeling of emptiness making you shudder when his cock left you, and his cum started leaking out of you. You turned to go find something to clean yourself up, but his metal hand stopped you. He guided you back to the couch before he walked towards the bathroom. A few minutes later, he came back with a towel, and he positioned himself right between your legs.  

He cleaned you up just like he had done for so many years before.His other hand caressed your thigh as he made sure to wipe everything. And just as he always did for years, once he finished, he kissed your inner thigh, a couple of inches away from your pussy.  

Bucky threw the towel to the floor, he would worry about it in the morning.As for right now, the only thing he wanted was to hold you close. So he did. He thanked the couch was big enough to fit you both as you layed together. He pulled the blanket he used to warm himself every night over you, and his arm surrounded your waist, his grip making your back settle against his front. His left hand traced lazy circles over your stomach while the other was used as your pillow.  

For a few seconds, both of you allowed yourselves to reminisce in the past. He kissed the top of your head as you snuggled against him like you usually did. And as you felt his warmth behind you and inhaled his scent, everything seemed to be alright once again.  

Except they weren’t. Bucky wasn’t the man who made you feel secure anymore, and you weren’t the woman who trusted him with all her heart. Both of them belonged to the past.  

"I don’t love you anymore. I will never love you again." you broke the silence.  

Bucky held you tighter as his heart broke once again.  

"I don’t deserve your love." He whispered. "But I’ll still love you forever." 

Then  

Loving Bucky Barnes was never easy.   

It wasn’t all bad, though. For many years you had been together, three and a half to be exact, where you could imagine a life with. Three years where there was no one you trusted more or preferred to be with.Three years that were the happiest of your life.  

Those were a few of the reasons why he had asked you to marry him. And those were also a few of the reasons why you had said yes.  

You had told yourself at the beginning that you couldn’t get attached to him for the safety of your heart. It didn’t matter that his touch felt like home or that during the times you spent apart, his eyes would be the only comfort you would find in your dreams. He would bring more heartbreak than love.  

Oh, how right you had been.  

Unfortunately for you, the heartbreak would come in a way you couldn’t have prevented.  

The snap came and took him away from you. One second he was standing next to you, the next he was turning into dust that flew into the wind. The last thing he had said was your name and after that half the population was gone.  

The years went by in a blur. Between nights filled with drugs and alcohol and days spent cramped up in your apartment, you were wallowing in the type of sadness that the rest of the population could understand. You kept your ring in your finger, it reminding you that what your memories craved for were real.  

Bucky had been real.  

With his departure, he had also taken your heart. 

After a particularly bad night where you crashed your vehicle into a contention bar, Tony had taken it upon himself to help you, offering you a home close to his secluded one. You took it, not because you wanted to get better but because you wanted solitude. But if life had taught you anything about Tony Stark, it was that he was as stubborn as they come.  

Every morning he would bring you breakfast along with a visit from a certain little baby that always wanted to be held by you, and sometimes she would be able to bring a small smile to your face. With time, the little baby turned into a little girl that would ask for a sleepover every once in a while, and you would gladly accept the offer to allow Tony and Pepper a night alone.  

Things got better. You visited Steve and Natasha at the compound and even allowed yourself to go in missions of your own, as it turned out not even The Snap could make criminals take a break. You even went to one of Steve’s depressing support group meetings, never returning for the next one.  

You couldn’t be strong all the time, though. Some nights, when the pain was so strong that it drowned you and the grief was too powerful to keep at bay, you would find yourself staring at the hundreds of pictures you had taken of him. Most of them were of you together, but there were a few you took when he wasn’t looking. The sunset behind him as he breathed in the clean air of Wakanda, or the small smile on his face as he tasted the food he cooked for you both.Even when he was reading some of the books he kept under his bed and a few wrinkles would show on his forehead as his whole focus remained in the text, he always looked beautiful.  

With time, everything felt like a routine. Waking up alone, eating alone, going outside alone. Sleeping alone. Everything seemed to be stable, not good or bad, but just stable. You were sure this was the best you could do, or at least the best it could get.  

That is, until a ray of hope appeared. 

Time travel was the answer. Taken as a whole, it seemed like something out of a science fiction film, but it made sense.Bring the stones back and along with them everyone that had died. Surprisingly, it had worked, everyone that had been snapped away came back just as they had left. It should have been a moment of joy. It should've.  

The thing about hope is that it comes with a price. Natasha and Tony were the price to pay.  

Steve left shortly after.  

You understood him. You understood why he left everything and everyone behind to go live a life with the woman he had always loved. You would be a liar if you said you wouldn’t have done the same if you were in his position. You understood why he did it but it still hurt to know you weren’t enough of a reason to stay and live a life together.  

It seemed like you were on a streak of losing people. Wherever you turned, more people kept leaving your life. Wanda was gone, turned into the madness that grief could bring. Thor left to save other planets that needed him. Bruce... well, you weren’t sure where Bruce was, but he didn’t try to contact you.   

Everyone was gone but Sam and Bucky.  

Bucky. Your Bucky. The man you had spent the past five years crying for. The man who made you the happiest you'd ever felt.The man who felt like home.  

But he wasn't your Bucky any longer. 

This Bucky didn’t kiss you with the same tenderness he did so many years ago. Instead, he'd barely move his lips once yours touched his in what you'd call a mediocre peck.He also never initiated a kiss, it was you who always reached out for him.  

This Bucky didn’t held you at night. Instead, he'd turn around, his back to you, and even if you reached for him between dreams, he'd guide your hand back to your side of the bed.Some nights, he would even choose to sleep on the floor of the living room when he thought you were asleep. It was as if the thought of touching you seemed appalling to him.  

This Bucky never hugged you. 

This Bucky never talked to you with love  only with annoyance and indifference.  

This Bucky never woke you up with breakfast.  

This Bucky never tried to sleep with you.  

This Bucky never said I love you.  

Because this Bucky didn’t love you.  

But you held hope, foolishly. Every day you tried to talk to him, show him in every possible way that you were still here with him. Every day you tried to make things better between you, you poured your heart and soul to try to fix what you didn’t even know was broken.  

Things got worse a couple of months later.   

As it turned out, time had taken a toll on Steve’s body, and one night he went to bed and never woke up. You found it a bit ironic the man out of time had finally run out of time.  

His funeral was held on a sunny spring afternoon. People from all over the world showed up to say their final goodbyes to the man who had saved the world so many times. Friends, people he had saved, and heroes paid their respects to him. The first super soldier had finally been put to rest.  

After everyone had cleared out, you went back to drop one last token for his departure. It was a picture of the both of you. Steve’s arm hung over your shoulders while both of you held a couple of beers. It had been the first time you had seen Steve outside of work related situations. That was the beginning of your friendship.  

As you got back to his tombstone, you saw Bucky standing in front of it. His eyes were void of any expression, and he didn’t seem to be talking to Steve’s grave either. Bucky was just there, staring at the place where his best friend was buried.  

He didn’t seem to notice when you stood next to him, nothing in his body gave any signs of acknowledgement. You gave him a couple of minutes before you reached for his hand. You knew that, even if he didn’t show it, he was in great pain. He had lost his last connection to the life he had once lived.  

You wanted to be there to help him through his pain.  

The contact only lasted a few seconds. Your touch surprised him, as he had jolted once your skin grazed his own. He turned his head to the side to give you a glare that you’ve never seen before. His eyes had been filled with pain, as you guessed, but they also carried hatred and disdain. He must’ve seen your expression, because a second later his eyes changed to a neutral expression.  

"What are you doing here?" he muttered.  

The shock of his stare lingered in you for a moment, but you quickly returned to yourself, a friendly smile on your face."I came to leave a little parting gift."  

He hummed in acknowledgement, not sparing another glance at you as you put the photograph against the headstone, right in between the dozens of flowers that decorated it. Both of you stayed silent after that, the sounds of the birds and the faint rumbling of cars were the only sounds keeping you company. It was peaceful. It was good. Just the two of you enjoying a moment's calmness in silence. 

For a few moments, you felt comfortable next to him. The first time in months since he came back. But good moments like that never lasted long.  

Without notice, he turned around. Long, desperate strides guided him towards the exit of the graveyard. He wanted to create distance between you and him, find somewhere that was as far away from you as he could be. You felt how you were losing him.  

But you fought for him, even when he seemed to not deserve it.  

"Bucky." You called for him. He stopped in his tracks, but he didn’t turn around, so you took that as a sign to keep going. "I know you’re hurting right now, I am too, but I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you."  

He didn’t answer for a few seconds, and you thought you had made a breakthrough. Maybe this was the time when things went uphill. This was the little push he needed to start healing and perhaps to try to rebuild the bridges that had burned. This was the little thread of hope you'd hung up on.  

You were wrong.  

"You have no idea how I feel," he said before leaving.  

That night you came back to your cabin, and Bucky’s things were gone. The only thing left was a note that rested in the middle of the bed.  

I found an apartment in the city. I need space.  

You didn’t see him for a couple of months after that. You considered tracking him down but ultimately gave up as he had asked for space. He needed time on his own, and you could give it to him. You would give him anything he asked for.  

You kept your word until Strange came to visit you, announcing news about Wanda. She was dead.  

You barely remembered tracking down his address or making your way there. It wasn’t until you were facing his door that you realized what you had done. He asked for space but in that moment, you couldn’t give it to him. You needed your Bucky.  

Knock, knock, knock.  

It was late in the night, and you could hear the TV going on in the living room. He had to be home. After a few minutes without an answer, you knocked again, but the only thing that welcomed you was silence.  

"Bucky," you called. Your voice was broken, you tried to fight the tears away, but saying his name broke what little self-control you had left. "Please open the door."  

You rested your forehead against the door, finally allowing yourself to feel everything you had been pushing back ever since the fight with Thanos. Pain, grief, loneliness, hatred, sadness, despair. A cocktail of emotions ran through you in an overwhelming way and seemed to want to drown you.  

"I know you’re in there." You cried. The tears that ran down your face landed on the floor. "I just— I know I said I could be strong for the both of us, but... I need you."  

You knocked on the door again, this time with the side of your fist. The desperate sound of your knocking bounced through the walls of the deserted hallway.  

"Please Bucky, please open the door. Wanda is dead." Your own cries stopped you from talking, the hole in your chest seemed to get bigger and bigger with each passing second. "Nat, Tony, Steve, Wanda. All of them are dead, and I—I can’t. I can’t keep losing people. I can’t lose you."  

You couldn’t do this alone, not anymore. Your heart couldn’t take it anymore.  

"I love you. God, I love you so much. I know you want space, but right now I need your love, Bucky. I need you to love me like you used to. Please love me." You begged.  

And you waited. You waited for what seemed like hours, but it probably was just thirty minutes until you accepted he wasn’t coming out.  

 You left with half a heart that night.  

Two weeks later, you came back to his apartment, ready to demand an explanation. Your love for him was strong, but you needed him to talk to you. You were ready to fight for your future. You were ready to fight for your love.  

"Bucky!" you yelled as you knocked aggressively. "Bucky, open the fucking door!"  

The door didn’t take long to open. It surprised you, your confidence and anger faltered for a second. This was a sign, perhaps it was him being ready to fight for you too. This was him showing you he still loved you.  

Except the person who opened the door wasn’t Bucky.  

It was a girl. A short brunette that was covered by Bucky’s black T-shirt and nothing more.  

"Hi."  

You wanted to scream. You wanted to burst into tears. You wanted to burn the world and leave everything behind. You wanted to die. But the only thing you could do was stay there and stare at the girl.  

"Umm, Bucky is not here." She said awkwardly, your intense stared made her uncomfortable.  

"Do you know where he is?" You questioned her. The words came out rougher than you intended, but as the heartbreak and despair set in, you couldn't care less. 

"No. I, um, when I woke up he was already gone." She pulled the hem of the t-shirt down in an effort to convey her nervousness, but it only infuriated you more. "Are you a friend of his?"  

You wanted to laugh. God, this couldn’t be happening.  

"Yeah, of sorts."  

"I can let you in so we can wait for him, but I have to leave in like twenty minutes."  

"You can’t call him?" you asked, bitterly. You knew Bucky had gotten a new phone but he never gave you his number.  

Her face blushed before she answered. "No, uh. We met last night, and he didn’t give me his number.  

"Oh."  

You didn’t know what would be worse, if he had seen this girl ever since he left your cabin or the fact that he had a one night stand with a random girl. It didn’t matter, though, Bucky Barnes had crushed your heart.  

The girl, whose name was Clara, kept her word, leaving minutes later as she had to go to work. She seemed like a nice girl who had no idea the man she had slept with was engaged. And perhaps in another world you would’ve been nicer to her if your heart hadn’t collapsed in on itself when she opened the door. Maybe she was a little naïve, as she let you stay inside the apartment so you could wait on Bucky. She had also asked you to give him her number, the digits scribbled on a piece of paper.  

You broke down the moment she closed the door behind her. You thought of trashing the place, breaking every piece of furniture he owned, and burning all his clothes in a pit in the middle of his living room. You imagined yourself hurling the stupid leather jacket he seemed to be fond of lately.You also thought about settling for burning everything to the crisp, wanting to see the look on his eyes once he saw his apartment consumed by flames.  

You didn’t do any of those things, though; instead, you waited. This time, hours actually went by, the once bright morning turned into the darkness of the night, and you never moved from your spot on the couch, not even to turn on the lights.  

Bucky came back to his apartment around 11 p.m. When he noticed the apartments' lack of lightning, he felt relieved not to have to deal with the girl he had taken home the night before. By the looks of it, she left a while ago.  

He turned on the light before taking of his jacket, placing it on the coat hanger next to the door.As he walked to the kitchen to get a glass of water, he tossed his keys on the counter.He had to change the sheets on his bed and do laundry tomorrow. The glass was half full when a voice behind him spoke.  

"You have a nice place here."  

The glass dropped from his hands into the kitchen sink. His head snapped quickly towards you, finding you seated in the middle of his couch. He turned off the sink, before making his way toward you. You couldn’t be here, not today of all days.  

"How the hell did you get in here?" he barked.  

He didn’t mean it like that, not in the way it sounded. He wasn’t angry at you being inside his apartment, he was scared. Scared that you had arrived at the wrong time and seen something you weren’t meant to see.  

He finally stood in front of you and saw it. Your nose was slightly puffy and red, like you had been crying for some time. Your shoulders were slumped, defeat washing over your posture. But the thing that hurt the most to see was the pain behind your eyes. It wasn’t the normal type of pain of loss or grief as you had experienced these past months. No, it was something else.  

It was the pain of heartbreak and betrayal.  

It couldn’t be.  

You couldn't have been here when she was still in his house. There was no way, life could not hate him this way. It had to be something else that broke your heart, he had hurt you many times this past couple of months, and today was probably the day it all crashed down. It had to be that.  

"Clara let me in."  

No.  

"Nice girl, she left her number for you."  

You knew, you had seen the girl who was apparently named Clara, he didn’t really remember it. Bucky knew he had to do something, anything that could save your relationship. Perhaps if he begged you not to leave him, to let him explain everything that had been going on with him, and if he spent the rest of his days making it up to you, then you would stay. Maybe you could forgive him.  

He didn’t do any of that, though. The same thoughtless attitude washed over him like it had done ever since he came back. It was as if his brain forced him to act this way in order to protect his own heart in the long run. 

Instead of doing everything he could to fix this, he shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest.  

"How long?" you asked. Bucky could see your eyes watering as you tried to keep yourself together. He hated himself. "How long have you been cheating on me?"  

His mouth answered without his permission.  

"Does it even matter?"  

Maybe he was right. Maybe it the answer wouldn’t change the way you were feeling; if anything, it was bound to hurt you more. But a part of you wanted to know the truth, to extinguish the other half of your heart.  

You didn’t budge, so Bucky finally answered, not before rolling his eyes. "She’s the only one. I met her yesterday in a bar. "He shrugged. "It just happened."  

You knew the answer, yet it still hit you with the force of a thousand bricks. He admitted it. He fucking admitted it and he didn’t even show a single morsel of remorse. There weren't any apologies or begs, no promises, or big romantic and sorrowful speeches. You could feel your own love being smothered, the flames that had once brought so much warmth to your soul were replaced by cold and emptiness.  

Bucky Barnes didn’t love you anymore. 

Now  

Bruises covered your body as well as new injuries that would probably give you more scars. Dirt and blood slid down the drain, exhaustion settling in as your muscles relaxed. The droplets of water fell against your body, washing away everything that had happened today.  

You found the intel, you knew every single name of everyone involved with the heinous experiments you were chasing.  

You had almost died, one of the guys Bucky and you had cornered, had a bomb attached to his chest. You tried to stop him, your gun pointing at his head, but you were too slow. The explosion shook the entire structure, causing a chain collapse of the floors around you. 

Bucky had jumped to protect you, his body acting as a human shield, deflecting some of the impact.His flesh arm had a large metal piece embedded in it, as well as some burns on his back. The explosion had knocked you both out of the air, and the resulting wave had thrown you both across the room. 

As you tried to shake away the confusion and the ringing from your ears, you felt his hand find its place along your face and travel to your stomach. As he scanned you, blue eyes looked at you with fogginess but also deep concern. 

"You ok?" he had whispered.  

You nodded, but your mind was still fuzzy, perhaps you had hit your head, but you couldn’t remember much.  

But you remembered the desperation. You remembered everything crumbling apart as you tried to make your way to the exit. You remembered Sam’s voice screaming through your earpieces to get the fuck out of there. You remembered Bucky's hand always keeping you safe, guiding you through the clouds of cement and smoke.  

You also remembered how Bucky’s steps faltered before collapsing. Neither of you had noticed he had a second piece of metal scrap buried between his ribs. If he had removed it, his enhanced healing would have taken care of it, but the extenuating movements had caused damage to his lungs, bleeding, and a lack of oxygen, causing him to pass out. 

You remembered screaming for Sam’s help, begging him to help you save Bucky. You remembered the tears falling from your eyes as you tried to pull Bucky to safety, begging him not to die, begging him to wake up. You remembered the fire catching up to you, it’s warmth burning your skin. You wanted to kill Bucky, you would be happy if you never seen his face again, dance on top of his grave as you celebrated the end of his existance.  

Then why were you fighting so hard to save him?  

"Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. You can’t do this to me!"  

"Bucky wake the fuck up!"  

"Please! I can’t lose you like this!"  

Fortunately, Sam came for you, him and all his Captain America glory had saved both of you, his wings protecting all three of you as you carried Bucky outside. You had barely gone a few steps ahead when the building finally set one last explosion, ending with everything on it's way.All three of you landed on the floor with a thud as the shock wave reached you.  

You focused your attention on Bucky's wound, which was already healing, but his lack of response worried you.His breathing was barely existent, and his heartbeat was decreasing. You had straddled his lap and began performing CPR on him while asking Sam to go fetch the adrenaline shot you stored in the vehicle. You had punctured Bucky's chest with it, and after a few seconds, he had woken up.  

You remembered clinging to him as he tried to sit straight, the desperation finally gone from your body.  

The body behind you wrapped his hands along your waist, pulling you out of your memories and spreading the soap he had covered you with. Bucky's fingers traced all the way down your body, removing every trace of stress. 

After everything happened, Sam told you to go back to the safehouse while he met with Joaquin to try and start locating people with the intel you had gathered. You thought about fighting him, but one look at Bucky and any fight you had left was done.  

A knowing look from Sam told you this wasn’t just to let both of you rest and get cleaned up. It was a second chance.  A second chance at the talk you had avoided to had with Bucky ever since that night you slept together.  

You drove back to the safehouse, and once you had gotten inside, everything crumbled apart inside of you. As you reached out to Bucky, your tears had fallen, your hand lingering in his fleshy arm, right where his wound was.His hand cupped your face, his thumb tracing the stream of blood that fell from your eyebrow. In the silence of the room, no words were exchanged, but both your hearts understood.  

Just for today, you would allow yourselves to comfort each other.  

His lips peppered kisses along your shoulder as he cleaned you, his lips sometimes finding your neck or your lips when you would press yourself against him. As you spread the shampoo over his head, your fingers massaged his scalp with the tenderness he had missed, his eyes closing every time you hit the right spot. 

After drying yourselves and changing into new clothes, you both layed on the bed, covered over the head with the thin white sheet you had. You faced each other, blue eyes meeting yours. Your fingers found his face as you traced along every crevice and line you hadn’t seen before. Bucky appeared to have aged years in the time you hadn't seen him, but he remained as beautiful as ever. 

Your heart ached in your chest, and you couldn’t fight it anymore. You had denied yourself the other feelings that remained inside of you other than hate and betrayal, but today, as death seemed to call for both of you, it was clear you didn’t want Bucky Barnes to die. A part of you hated him so deeply you weren’t sure you would be able to stop, but no matter how strong the hatred was, you were sure a part of you still loved him.  

However, that part of you was broken. Battered and bruised to death by his own doing but it was still there. It was locked inside the thousand-foot wall you had built around it to keep it safe. Refusing to ask questions, refusing to talk to him, and refusing to admit the pain you were in. But in doing so you hadn’t given yourself the opportunity to heal. To move on.  

So you allowed yourself to feel and to talk. For both your sake and his. 

"Why did you do it?" you broke the silence. His breathing faltered as your hand retracted back to your side. "Why did you hurt me like that?"  

Bucky struggled to find the right words. You were asking him the same question he had asked himself for many, many nights. He asked himself that question when he wouldn’t reach for you at night. He asked himself that question when he didn’t open the door for you.  

He asked himself that question when you walked out of his life.  

You deserved the truth. The whole, unapologetic, heartfelt truth. So he gave it to you.  

"The first time I came back to myself, after fighting Steve in the helicarrier, I realized the world had moved on without me. My plans, my family, and the people I knew were all left in the past. They all moved on without me, everyone was gone except for Steve. I had a plan, after the war I would go back and find myself a beautiful girl to marry." A sad smile posed on his lips as he reminisced. "I wanted the white picket fence and three kids package. Cookouts with my family and friends while I was still a war hero. But all of that was gone the moment I woke up in a time that wasn’t mine. My dreams were gone."  

He paused before reaching for your face, his eyes closing before opening again, tears streaming down his cheeks."Ever since I woke up, I was a man drifting in a time that wasn’t mine, in a life that wasn’t mine. I didn’t have any dreams, or aspirations other than to survive and perhaps discover the truth. Nothing made sense to me, not until I met you." His thumb wiped away the tears you didn’t know they were falling. "You were the very first person, aside from Steve, that was kind to me. You talked to me, listened to what I had to say. You showed me what this new world was about, how to survive in it, and above all, you never doubted my innocence. It wasn’t because you knew me like Steve did, or because he had asked you as a favor. You were my friend, the very first I made when I was lost. And along the way, you turned into more, you were my new dream. I fell in love with you, and suddenly it didn’t matter that I wasn’t supposed to be here, or what it could’ve been because with you, I finally felt like I belonged somewhere."  

A sob escaped you, his words burning your heart, branding them with the love you once felt for him. The heartbreak and the pain came once again, but it felt different. It was comforting in a way that scared you, terrified you. You knew he had loved you once, but you had stored those memories far away where they couldn’t hurt you. Because it was easier to tell yourself that Bucky had never actually loved you than to think he had loved you and had still betrayed you.  

"But no matter how much time passed or how loved or comfortable I felt, I was still scared. I was terrified. Terrified of the same thing happening again. Every day, I'd tell myself, 'Something is going to happen, something is going to take me away from you, and when I come back, another hundred years will have passed.' And it did happen. When Thanos snapped me away, I came back, and to me only seconds had passed, but for you it was five years. Everything had changed again, even you. There was this sadness that seemed to have nested behind your eyes every time you looked at me. And every time I looked at you, I could see how much you had suffered because of me, it was my fault, and I couldn’t do anything about it."  

"It wasn’t your fault." You tried to argue, but his words interrupted you.  

"I felt like it was. I felt like I must’ve had some sort of curse that would always take me away from what made me the happiest, and in return, I would hurt everyone around me with it. I had died once again and the world kept going, once again. And I tried really hard to fight those thoughts, but it was as if a cloud of darkness would whisper to me that I didn't belong here anymore.That everything had changed once again, and it would happen again and again and again until I finally died. And I didn't know what to do; it was as if this voice was drowning me, washing away every ounce of happiness I had left inside me until all that remained was anger and resentment." 

His voice had broken, as had his ability to hold back the tears.He had buried this for so long, too embarrassed to say them aloud, to admit how he had messed up everything because he was afraid.He wasn’t the man who had sworn to protect you against everything, he was a coward. A coward who had let his own fear hurt you in ways he could never fix.  

"I’m sorry. I’m so sorry." Bucky kissed your forehead. "You didn’t deserve any of what I did to you, and I don’t think I could ever forgive myself for doing that. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me, I’m sorry I pushed you away when all you did was trying to help me. I’m sorry I slept with someone else. I'm sorry I messed everything up because the truth is, you have been the best thing that has ever happened to me, past and present, and if I had to go through all of the pain, torture, and heartbreak all over again just to meet you, I would." 

You stayed there in silence for minutes. Neither of you dared say anything else that would break the silence. Both your hearts had been through a lot today, from the threats of death to the realizations of love and pain that had been confessed. But amongst the suffering and the torment, both of your hearts began to heal, and the pieces that had been ripped apart came back to where they belonged.  

You took his hands into yours, your lips kissing his knuckles. "I don’t know if I could ever forgive you for what you did." Bucky’s eyes closed in ache, he knew it was a possibility, but it still hurt to know there was no hope, but your words stopped him from spiraling. "But I would like to try."  

Hope. A tiny silver of hope. 

"Do you think there is a chance for us in the future?"  

You considered it. Your mind and your heart still pulling towards different directions but none of them letting you decide. Would you be willing to risk your heart once again for Bucky Barnes, or has the damage been too great to be fixed and covered? "I don’t know."  

"That’s ok. I'm not going to ask about it again unless you want me to." 

He kissed you one last time. His lips still had a subtle taste of smoke and burned, but above it was something overpowering, something both of you felt as he deepened the kiss. You both tasted redemption and forgiveness. 

Forever 

"Thanks for helping me."  

"Don’t thank me, I’m only doing it for the beer."  

Bucky and you chuckled at his poor attempt at a joke, your footsteps echoing in the half-empty apartment. A couple of seconds later, your mattress landed with a loud thud in your bedroom, making you happy to be finally done. You threw yourself on the bed, Bucky following you close behind, his heaviness bouncing you off. You turned to your side, resting your head on your hand, and he replicated your pose.  

It had been a year and a half since you decided to bring Bucky back into your life, and things had changed dramatically since then.You stopped doing solo missions and moved to New York, where you split your time between assisting Sam and Bucky with their shenanigans and volunteering at the woman's shelter Sam had connected you with. 

In the beginning, it was difficult to adapt to a tamer lifestyle than the one you had lived in the past year, but listening to all those women, the things they had been through, showed you that sometimes the thing people need to start healing is to have someone along the way.  

Bucky and you had become friends, just as you had been when you first met. It took time to get back to the beginning, but soon you found out how much you needed him as a friend, not a lover or a soulmate but just someone with whom you could talk. And, over the course of the many nights you spent talking, forgiveness found its way into your heart.You didn’t forget the past between both of you, but along the way there was understanding and care.  

"How was your date?"  

You shrug. "It was ok, not that great to be honest." 

During this time you had gone on a couple of dates, even went out with a guy for a couple of months, and since you and Bucky were ‘just friends’ you thought it would be uncomfortable to talk to him about them. But he had developed a habit of surprising you, and as it turned out, he was okay with it. When you asked why he was okay with it, his response surprised you. 

"I love you, I’ll always love you. But if you need me as a friend and nothing more, then I’ll be your friend."  

Your heart was still reluctant about him, after all, pain is a thing you can hardly forget. That had been the reason why you had tried to find someone else. Someone who could make you laugh as hard as he did, someone who could make you blush with just a cocky smile, someone who could calm you down and make everything better by simply holding you close at night.Someone who could make you happy. But all of them failed, because they weren’t Bucky Barnes.  

No one ever compared to Bucky Barnes, because after all the lies, heartbreak, and death surrounding you, he was still the only person who felt like home.  

Blue eyes stared at you and all you could feel was your heart racing. He was the man you had once loved and he had betrayed you, but time had mended your heart. The part of you that hated him was gone, and instead the love you felt for him came back, maybe not as strong as it once was but it didn’t matter. Your love was willing to build itself up, your love was willing to let him in one last time.  

"Ask me" you uttered. Your voice was so quiet that you thought he wouldn't hear you, but his puzzled expression told you otherwise. 

"What?"  

Your hand grabbed his, your thumb was drawing circles on his skin.  

"Bucky, ask me."  

Bucky’s heart stopped. A part of him had always told him that you would never want him back, and he couldn't blame you. He had hurt you in so many ways that he could never forgive himself. He had been sure the best he could have from you was friendship, and he had made his peace with it. Having you as only a friend was better than not having you at all.  

But you were giving him an opportunity, and he would be damned if he didn’t take it.  

"Would you—" he paused, clearing his throat.The nervousness inside him erased his ability to speak. "Would you like to go out for dinner? As in a date?"  

You made it seem as if you were thinking about it, but he didn’t worry about it. He knew your answer already.  

"Yeah, I guess I can make time for one date."  

You smiled. You gave him your biggest, most genuine smile in a long time.He smiled too.  

Loving Bucky Barnes hadn’t been easy. But as you both lay in your beds, his hands caressing your face and new hope brewing between you, your heart told you that this time would be different. 

He wasn't the same tormented man from another time you'd fallen in love with, and you weren't the same broken but hopeful girl he'd loved with all his heart.You both had hurt each other, but you had also grown, both of you in your own ways, and yet destiny had brought you back together.  

This time, neither of you was scared. 

This time, loving him would come as easily as breathing.

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[babytarttdoodoo]

hi! prompt for Roy and Jamie (as a ship or platonic is up to you!) if it interests you, could I request Roy getting protective over somebody hitting on and making Jamie uncomfortable at a bar?

I’m finding that Roy is a lot of fun to write. The man has presence. (There a LOT of *fruity* language in this one.)

Written as early relationship Roy/Jamie. Thank you for the prompt and hope you enjoy!

(Prompt Fill Masterpost)

—

“Excuse me!”

Jamie turned around at the shout and grip on his arm, half a smile on his face from laughing with the bartender as he ordered.

A young woman was grinning at him excitedly, bouncing a little when his attention focused on her. She fluffed her hair with the hand that wasn’t squeezing his bicep.

“Alright, darling?” Jamie gave her a quick once over, expecting a request for a selfie if she happened to be into football.

“Are you Jamie? From Lust Conquers All?”

Ah. 

He chuckled a bit and nodded, giving her his best photoshoot smile. You have to be nice to the fans, after all.

“Yep, guilty!”

“I fucking knew it!” she crowed, pressing in closer. Jamie felt the edge of the bar dig into his back. “I told my friends it was you!”

“Oh, you out with your mates, then?” Jamie glanced behind her, trying to spot a group that might be waiting to pull her back away. No one stood out and she ignored his question completely.

“It was a total fix, you getting voted off! You were well more fit than Danthony. He barely got his kit off.”

Right. Okay, then.

“Nah, he were a nice enough lad, actually.” Jamie told her, keeping it friendly and gently trying to pull his arm away. “Listen, d’you want a photo or…?”

“Don’t you think I look like Amy?”

“Eh…” She did, a bit, if Jamie really thought about it. It might have just been the blonde hair and hoop earrings, though. And that didn’t detract from it being a fucking weird question.

“Need a tray for your drinks, mate?” Jamie turned back to the bartender at the (very welcome) interruption and felt the woman’s hand shift from his arm to his chest with the movement.

He grit his teeth and gave the guy setting out his round a tight smile and nod as her polished fingernails scraped the skin exposed by his mostly open shirt.

“Shit, you didn’t let yourself go after the show, did you?” she asked, staring at his bared muscles and seemingly oblivious to any concept of personal space. “Buy me a drink?”

“Oh, er, no thanks.”

“Come off it.” She pouted at him and squeezed in closer, standing practically between his legs. “You can’t tell me I’m not your type.”

Jamie swallowed hard, glancing around now for his own friends. But the team were sequestered away in the VIP section, waiting on him returning with their orders.

“Look, sweetheart, I’m sure you’re lovely, but I’m currently spoken for.”

“Didn’t stop you on the show.”

“Fucking hell.” Jamie had to laugh. This whole thing was ridiculous. Even at the height of his prickiest moments, he’d known when to take a hint - apparently that memo was not universally received.

There was no room to move away from her, either. The club was heaving with people enjoying their Friday night and the crowd around the bar penned him in on all sides. A jostle from the group behind them had the woman pressed right up against his front.

She grinned, taking his incredulity and the sudden contact as a good sign.

“Oi, Tartt.” Oh shit.

The movement in the crowd had not, apparently, been caused by inebriated partiers trying to get closer to the bar. Rather, it had been Roy Fucking Kent pushing his way through to find out what was taking so long.

If panic at the thought of potentially causing a scene had been playing at the edges of Jamie’s mind, the idea of Roy seeing some random woman plastered all over him in a dark club dialled it up to a full-blown catastrophe.

This Thing™ between them was still fresh and new (and a bit lovely). He wasn’t sure it could weather presumed infidelity and a tabloid shitshow just yet.

Roy was frowning, no surprises there. His dark eyes went from Jamie’s face, to the new attachment on his chest, and back again. “Who the fuck is this?”

She bristled at the dismissive tone. “Who are you? His dad?”

Jamie winced. Ouch.

And the thing was, he wasn’t scared of Roy’s reaction. He hadn’t been properly scared of Roy for years. But, objectively, he knew that the man before him cut a pretty intimidating figure when he wanted to.

Dressed all in black under the strobing lights of a nightclub, he looked like a solid shadow with anger issues. Crossing his arms and raising his voice to be heard was all it took for a good metre radius to clear out around him, defying the laws of both physics and London nightlife.

Jamie was suddenly struck by the memory of Roy striding into a club, headbutting Colin, and giving them all a telling off. He’d been scary in that moment, and Jamie knew he’d had to admit to himself that night that his Kent crush was not as dead and buried as he’d hoped.

“Get the fuck off of him, you nutty arsemonger.”

Between her shock at the colourful insult and the extra room to manoeuvre, Jamie managed to extricate himself without much further fuss and snatched up the ready tray of drinks to use as a barrier.

“You can’t talk to me like that!” she seethed, cheeks flushed and hands gone to fists at her sides, her grip on Jamie forgotten.

“I can do a hell of a lot worse,” Roy growled. “Bugger off, before I call security.”

Sensing defeat, and perhaps the phone cameras no doubt being whipped out around them, the woman gave Jamie one last leering, disappointed look before stalking off in the opposite direction of Roy.

Jamie slumped in relief until he caught his (boyfriend?)’s gaze. Roy’s face was unreadable. He just stared at Jamie for a moment longer, then turned away.

“Come on, then. Been waiting fucking ages.”

Suddenly unsure if he’d been right to dismiss fear so quickly, Jamie followed along behind him, focusing on not spilling anything while his mind whirred incessantly.

They rounded the curtain that separated the VIP room from the rest of the venue and a cheer went up at the sight of a fresh round. Jamie set his burden down quickly, accepting the thanks of his teammates while constantly glancing over to the corner where Roy had settled to brood.

Grabbing their drinks, he made his way over and cautiously sat beside him.

“... Roy?”

“Are you alright?” Well, that wasn’t what Jamie had expected. Especially since the words sounded like they’d been dragged from Roy’s throat by force. “Be fucking honest.”

“Erm, yeah, yeah I’m fine. Thanks.” Jamie licked his lips nervously. “Why?”

Roy shut his eyes tight and sighed heavily. “Jesus Christ. Because you just had some tart’s hands all over you and she clearly wouldn’t take ‘no’ for a fucking answer.”

“Oh.” Jamie shrugged and looked down at his glass, tapping his thumbnails against the rim. “Used to it, ain’t I? Are you alright? Cause, being honest, I don’t know if you’re angry at me or not and it’s kind of freaking me out.”

His fidgeting stilled when Roy’s hand found his knee and squeezed.

“I’m not angry at you, Jamie.”

At the much softer tone, Jamie risked looking at him again and found Roy watching him with a pinched expression.

“I am wondering why you didn’t just tell her to piss off sooner.”

“It weren’t like I encouraged her!” Jamie protested.

“I’m not saying you did. Believe it or not, I have had my share of mental fans having a grope over the years.” Jamie fought down a flush of outrage and jealousy at that. “You don’t have to be fucking nice to them, though. You, fuck, you shouldn’t be ‘used to it’.”

Unable to resist, Jamie leaned in and kissed away Roy’s scowl.

“You’re sweet.” he murmured, smiling at the gruff protest he got in response. “No, you are. Deal with it.”

With a sigh, he leaned into Roy’s side and organised his thoughts.

“After I did that reality show, most of my brand deals and that just… went away.” He felt Roy shift beside him but the grip on his knee stayed steady, so much nicer than the hand on him earlier had been. “I got trashed online for acting like a prick and no one wanted to touch me. Not even City. Fuck, I had to beg Ted for another chance here.”

Roy knew most of this, of course. He even had a clearer idea now of why exactly Jamie had risked his football career for Lust Conquers All.

“I just. Everything’s better now. Life is fucking mint. But I know that all it takes is one shitty tweet about me being an arsehole or a dodgy video taken out of context and, boom. It’s viral and I’m untouchable again.”

“Fuuuuuuuuck.” The quiet exhalation made Jamie huff a laugh. Roy took a swig of his beer before speaking again. “First of all, we’re not going to let anything like that happen. And by ‘we’ I mean that entire gaggle of idiots, plus me, plus Keeley and Beard and Rebecca and Higgins and, fuck, even Nate these days.

“Someone says shit about you, all of Richmond will be up in arms to fight them about it, alright?”

He waited for Jamie to nod in acknowledgement before continuing,

“And second - I never had to deal with all this shit. The worst I’ve had is the press camped outside my house after some messy breakup or fight on the pitch. I don’t know how you lads do it with all the tweeting and posting and blogging you’re supposed to keep up with. It’s fucking exhausting just hearing about it.”

(Jamie very maturely refrained from making the obvious jokes about how ancient Roy sounded.)

“So if me doing shit like that -” He gestured vaguely in the direction of the bar. “Ever makes things worse for you, then I’m fucking sorry and you need to tell me.”

That was… genuinely very touching. Jamie snuggled in closer, throat tight.

“And finally,” Roy went on, pressing a kiss to head on his shoulder. “Your consent fucking matters, Jamie. If someone makes you uncomfortable, be as much of a prick as you like and damn the consequences.”

Jamie laughed again and shifted away to grin properly at Roy. “Is that you giving me blanket permission, coach?”

In response, Roy just gave him the middle finger, face hilariously deadpan. It really shouldn’t have made Jamie melt like it did.

He leaned in again, feeling safe in the relative privacy of their booth, and kissed Roy slow and deep. They were both breathing hard when he broke away and smirked.

“Maybe next time we go out, I’ll get to be the one prying some MILF off of you. Then you’ll find out exactly how much of a prick I can be.”

[hopeymchope]

Hope's Peak and... Whatever is Going on with the "Talents" They Study

Hope's Peak Academy! Where only the greatest talents are invited to focus on the areas in which they excel (and to be studied by the staff).

The people working at Hope's Peak Academy in Danganronpa (whether staff, scientists, or Steering Committee) are pretty consistently presented as being dedicated to researching and understanding the nature of talent. They talk like talent is this hazy concept that only certain people somehow possess, so they're out to crack the code of its mysterious origins.

We have top men working on the origins of talent right now. .... TOP. MEN.

Now, I know we all eventually learn just how much of a shitshow HPA was and how corrupt its primary operators were. But the evidence of their crimes is mostly focused on how they take their interest in "Talent" much too far. So long as it furthered the study of "talent," human experimentation, endangering the lives of students, and much, MUCH more were totally on the table as far as HPA's Steering Committee was concerned. Which is very bad, yes.

However! I think the issues with HPA's intentions ran even deeper. The people in charge weren't just corrupt; they were also stupid. And this is evidenced by many of the "talents" they identified and researched.

See, Hope's Peak makes no real distinction between the types of talent they identify and accept into their walls. Even though there's a MASSIVE DIFFERENCE between the talent of someone like Junko Enoshima vs. that of someone like Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu. Y'know?

(I strongly doubt I'm the first to observe how bullshit some of these "talents" are. But since I can't find any other conversations about this on Tumblr, I'm going to move forward with making my own commentary. Sorry?)

BTW, consider this: If Komaeda were somehow born earlier and was an adult by the time the 77th Class entered HPA? He could've easily been one of the staff members putting Hajime into that metal coffin.

In descending order of "I can see why they were interested" to "WTF is this," here are the four core types of Super High School-Level "Talents" that Hope's Peak Academy welcomes within its hallowed halls:

(DISCLAIMER: I include V3 students as some of the examples cited below. YES, I know they don't attend Hope's Peak in their game's main storyline. However, they attend Hope's Peak in both UTDP and DRS. That's good enough for me; you can always ignore those examples if you disagree.)

CATEGORY (A) Talents that seem to come innaately/naturally to those who have them. These are either your wunderkind types, or they otherwise gained their talent seemingly overnight. — (e.g., Yasuhiro Hagakure, Junko Enoshima, Nagito Komaeda, Miu Iruma)

My Thoughts: Okay, SURE. I get why you'd want to study how this can happen and where these kinds of skills come from. No notes.

CATEGORY (B) Talents that are developed over a lifetime of practice and/or hard work. Most Hope's Peak students we know about seem like they slot into this category. — (e.g., Nekomaru Nidai, Mikan Tsumiki, Kaede Akamatsu)

My Thoughts: My first reaction is "What is there to study/research about this?" Do the Hope's Peak staff not know that working on something for a long time can make you get way better at that thing? Y'all reminding me of Hajime in the now-classic @reddpenn comic where he is legitimately shocked to learn people can gain skills through practice. :P But HOLD UP; let's give them the benefit of the doubt here for a sec. Perhaps Hope's Peak's personnel are wondering why only some practitioners of these talents can reach such a noteworthy level of skill by the time they're teenagers? That's the most reasonable conclusion to draw about the inclusion of these students.

CATEGORY (C) Talents that are only noteworthy because these students demonstrated some above-average skill relative to their age or because they garnered attention through one specific incident. In other words: These individuals aren't nearly as exceptional as those in the previous two categories of talent, but at least they seem pretty decent at what they're being identifed for? — (e.g., Mahiru Koizumi, Shuichi Saihara, Kaito Momota)

My Thoughts: I hope I'm being clear enough about what I mean by this category. But if not, I'll try to clarify: Shuichi was supposedly recognized for his talent solely because he caught one murderer. Mahiru's photography is almost solely portrait photography and therefore not particularly noteworthy to most photographers; she's just pretty good at the one thing she happens to do. (And in truth, her mom's reputation probably played a role in her own Hope's Peak invite.) Kaito being able to pass a basic Astronaut screening exam at a younger age than is usually allowed is neat, but it's not like he's been an exceptional trainee or even gone into space; he's just the "Ultimate Astronaut" because he cheated his way into taking a test early and did surprisingly well at it. Maybe we're meant to think "Oh, Kizakura or whoever could somehow tell these students have the innate potential to be truly spectacular" or somesuch?? But that interpretation requires putting a lot of faith in this questionable-ass system (and the one HPA scout we're familiar with — a known alcoholic). Do these people REALLY demand further study? Is there ACTUALLY anything to be gained by learning about their "talents"??? I... can't see it, y'all. I don't get it.

CATEGORY (D) Talents that aren't even really a talent at all, they're just a position/title someone gained by being born. — (e.g., Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu, Sonia Nevermind, Keebo)

LIVE HINATA REACTION

My Thoughts: Okay, so MAYBE Sonia was recognized by Hope's Peak as the the absolute pinnacle of refinement and royal behavior or something? But I kind of doubt it based on her actual behavior (and weird interest in serial killers) in DR2. And there's no way in hell that Fuyuhiko is the baddest-ass Yakuza, even among teenagers. You scratch that kid slightly. and you get the babychild undernearth. And Keebo? His talent is HIS OWN EXISTENCE. His "talent" is actually just his creator's talent, FFS. He's not even "High School"-AGED in reality; he's just programmed to operate at a mental capacity of approximately teenage-level. So ultimately, I'm asking: What is there to STUDY about any of these?! These aren't even TALENTS, frankly! These have got me wondering if there's some other reason to include these particular students... like perhaps Hope's Peak wants to extend their tentacles into the power/influence afforded by Novoselic royalty/the Yakuza? Or perhaps they wish the leverage Keebo's A.I. technology in their own pursuit of creating of an "Ultimate Talent"? Point is: THESE 'TALENTS' ARE SEVERELY SUS. (I have to wonder if the larger public and Reserve Coursers ever complained about how sketchy some of this shit sounds?? SURELY they did.)

ADDENDUM/NOTE: There are also those who hover between the various categories I've cited. This includes those who might be a mixture of two categories, or those whose background is hazy enough that it's not clear whether they always had their talent (A) or developed it over time (B). But I think the above list encompasses everyone we know about, either in one or multiple categories.

CONCLUSION: Hope's Peak is so vague and weird about what they define as "talents" that it's tough to say what on Earth they believe they're studying over there. Because the methodology they were employing for identifying these talents is super loose, they're inviting over SOME fascinating subjects right alongside a bunch of teenagers who... really can't reveal much of anything about anything?

How did Junko Enoshima learn to easily analyze the patterns all around her to the point that she was able to accurately predict most outcomes? GREAT question! You may genuinely be able to unravel something about inborn skillsets and unusual brain development from such a case.

How did Mahiru Koizumi become a great photographer? Uhhh, she observed some stuff from her mom and just tried a decent amount of portraits, I suppose. But she's not even that amazing frankly, she ain't taking any award-winning pictures or using any particular artistry. She's just good at smiling portraits. That's it. You ain't gonna learn shit from this.

How did Fuyuhiko become the Ultimate Yakuza? Because YOU decided he was! And that was just because of his inherited leadership role! He has NO special talent, wtf are you idiots doing?!?!

ANYWAY, that should cover all of the Hope's Peak students we've ever me—

Oh, right. There's ONE weird half-exception to this list, which I guess I'll explain for anyone who wants to be extracirricular about this topic.

BONUS! Outlier Case: Makoto Naegi (in DR1 only)

My Thoughts: In the original Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, the player/viewer/reader is made to believe that Makoto Naegi possesses no talent at all. Instead, Naegi was merely this year's winner of the annual drawing at Hope's Peak, and THAT IS IT. He was just drawn from a proverbial hat, and his presence is just a randomized factor. And SURE, by the end of the game/manga/anime, he's declared the "Ultimate Hope," but it's not like he was brought into the school based on that talent, so that's not particularly relevant. What I'm saying is simply this: DR1-era Naegi is the only known Hope's Peak student who doesn't fit into the above four categories. ............ Though this was later retconned, of course. Stories such as Makoto Naegi's Worst Day Ever (which came out alongside the first release of DR2, a mere two years after DR1 first hit PSP) and Danganronpa 3 would state that Naegi always possessed some unpredictable form of Komaeda-style inborn "luck" even if he wasn't necessarily aware of it. Which slots him into category (A). AS SUCH, he was only an outlier for literally THE FIRST INSTALLMENT OF THE SERIES. And since the first installment didn't really delve as much into the sketchy, obsessive ways the Hope's Peak scientists chose to study their roster of "talents," his outlier nature isn't really relevant anyway. I don't feel any need to justify "Makoto Naegi as portrayed in 2010-2011 continuity" for his inclusion in the class roster.

..........................but if I DID have to do that, I'd say including him among the students makes him the Control Group. :P

[wumblr]

Hello! I have seen the discourse about Eurovision around here and I just wanted to ask you, since I have seen the post about someone’s friend’s dad having alzheimer and Eurovision being a tradition they are keeping alive I guess, did the person who wrote that watch Eurovision too? Because if he/she/they did then I agree with your statement about responsibility, but if he/she/they didn’t and are only showing why some people might have wanted to watch Eurovision, then I don’t fully understand your post bashing that person. I wanted to ask you becaue I’ve seen people get crazy about the topic but never really saying anything, and I think you’re pretty honest so I just wanted to know. I didn’t watch it as a boycott, and I have a co-worker who did watch it because he’s been doing it every year for like 5 years or so, and I was confused after reading your post because I understood him but was mad that he couldn’t understand why I was boycotting, and I want to know what’s your take on this, if you would give it to me. Thanks!

there's this implication here that the most important thing in the world is politeness that i really don't like. if we can have a civil discussion about two million people dying of starvation, they're going to die while we're having it! the illusion of civility has collapsed. i never bought into it in the first place, but i am capable of recognizing that other people did

note that i am not telling you how to treat your coworkers! i am pointing out that jumping into the discussion online to only say that we should respect them is a ludicrous way to behave, and it makes you look monstrous in a really particular way: unwilling to take responsibility for your own viewpoint, you have to couch it in an absent third party. "but they're so nice and sweet, would you really be rude to them too?" YES! people are dying of starvation! hello?

this comes across as nothing more than a weak-willed way to check if your perspective is really that reprehensible without taking responsibility for yourself. it's hard to believe that you genuinely don't recognize which side of the conflict arguing this point places you on. "but some people --" ok well let me know when they show up so i can dress them down directly to their face too! until then, it's just you and i having the discussion. "but i didn't watch --" then what's the issue, exactly? you are not thoroughly comfortable with your decision not to watch tv? you don't know how to engage in a tv show boycott and still go to work without starting an argument that loses you your job? you're scared of losing friends for doing the right thing? welcome to the shitshow. glad you finally made it. if you could figure it the fuck out for yourself, things might move quicker than they will if you keep asking other people to explain the basics to you over and over!

the third thing i have already said that i would like to reiterate once again is that i'm ashamed this is the location of the frontline. i don't want to have this conversation either! i didn't pick this! but we are in an information war. the weight of the world's 100 trillion dollar pool of capital is bearing down upon us, and they have figured out how to operate in unilateral lockstep aligned with their class interests. you are walking up to the frontline and saying "why are you fighting? can't we all sit down for a nice dinner together?" shut the fuck up! are you joking? people are dying of starvation! if you would get out of the way, the frontline could advance to somewhere less fucking trivial!

[anrisimps]

"Pass me the salt dad-", Cale began

At once, seven hands grabbed the salt. Deruth glared at all of them one by one.

"I am his father. He is my son. What are you all even doing here, in my mansion?"

"I just missed my son. Cale, did you miss your father?!," Fredo seemed way too excited despite being an uninvited guest. 

Splat! 

Eruhaben coughed politely, as if he just did not throw the bowl of soup on Fredo's head," Apologies. My hand…slipped"

Fredo smiled with murder in his eyes. Everyone at the table tensed by the rising bloodlust. With a snap of his fingers he vanished all the soup staining his clothes and smiled again (everyone pointedly ignored his fangs),"Your sanity seems to be slipping in your old age, just like your slippery self. Isnt that right you overgrown lizard?"

Eruhaben seethed. Before he could snap back, a benign voice cut in,

"Grand Duke Fredo, Eruhaben-nim, you should not fight in front of the children. Besides, why are you holding the salt", Ron spoke and lightly caressed his dagger using his other hand. 

At once all the rival father figures turned towards the three idiots who began sweating nervously. Alberu did not know what came over him. He seriously did not. 

He did not know why he heard  daddy instead of dad. Lee Soo Hyuk smiled back at his potential in-laws but Alberu could see his hands trembling minutely. He made the same mistake as well apparently. Alberu was glad he was not gonna die alone. They did not know the bedroom role play would come to bite them in the ass like this. 

"That- I-", Choi Han stuttered and everyone's eyes swiveled in his direction and he shrunk under all the attention, "Cale-nim asked for the salt andIdidnothearanythingafterthat-!", and yet his hold did not loosen on the salt. 

Alberu and Lsh, despite being in death's maw, did not let go either. Their unofficial competition on who's superior was gonna end today for sure.  Both of them simultaneously dodged the two knives which headed straight towards their heart and turned to look at Ron in slight horror. 

Eruhaben did not know who to get rid of first, the pests or this blood sucking leech. Fredo seemed to be in the same dilemma as he stared at the golden lizard with a contemplative look in his eyes. Deruth knew he was the weakest but he was the original dad. They don't matter. (Despite that he wasn't able to do anything except watching the shitshow) 

Cale did not know what was happening anymore. The kids look extremely entertained on the other hand. Raon did not know why exactly they were fighting when there was another ,perfectly fine, bottle of salt beside him. He carefully levitated it towards Cale," Human! Here! Take this!" 

"...."

"..."

"..." 

"...."

"Thank you Raon"

Raon giggled happily and his wings fluttered on being praised,"You're welcome human!" 

(On shook her head as the defeated groans reached her ears. All of them were so stupid honestly-)

[thoselethalarts]

ℙ𝕙𝕠𝕓𝕠𝕤 𝔹𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕣 - ℙ𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕠𝕟𝕒𝕝 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪

(SR) Ceremony Robes (Part 2): "Don't Get the Wrong Idea"

(NRC: Dark Mirror Chamber)

Idia (Tablet): Students of Ignihyde, please gather here…

Riddle: He didn’t even come after I gave him a good scolding… how incompetent. I worry for the students that have to deal with a dorm leader this unreliable. They have my deepest of sympathies.

Vil: Hah… I expected it would turn out this way. Almost too expected, honestly, there was hardly any glitz or fanfare to this finale at all.

(The sound of students whispering among the crowd)

Ignihyde Mob A: Hey… Do you know who’s supposed to be our new dorm leader? I don’t see him anywhere.

Ignihyde Mob B: I think it’s supposed to be that guy in the tablet. Right there, the one that called us over here.

Ignihyde Mob A: You sure though? I heard Idia Shroud was supposed to be here, and I don’t see him anywhere. That couldn’t possibly be him, right?

Phobos: …and so it begins.

Ben: Huh-hm? How what begins?

Phobos: Get your head outta your fuckin’ phone and you’d hear it for yourself.

Ben: Ow- Hey, rude! You're on your phone too! Sheesh...

Ignihyde Mob B: Look around, all the dorm heads are at the front of their group, and the tablet’s in line with everyone else. So that has to be our dorm head. Ignihyde Mob B: If that's our dorm head, then doesn't that mean that's Idia...? Why isn't he actually here, you think?

Ignihyde Mob C: Haahh… what a letdown. Of course, we have to have the one dorm head that didn’t even show up in person. That’s a bad omen for sure.

Ben: Ahhh… Yeah, you called it, alright. Ben: Doesn't sound like they're causing problems yet, but... just keep an ear on ‘em 'til we get back to home base. Ben: The crowd will be thinner back at the dorm, since it will just be all us Ignihydes. When he gives them a welcome face-to-face then, I’m sure they’ll calm down.

Phobos: You put too much faith in our “brave leader”, Ben.

Ben: I wouldn’t call it faith, SMH. At this point I’m either deluding myself for a pipe dream or praying for a miracle. Probably a mix of both.

Phobos: Hmph… Only time will tell, but I have a feeling with this mood Idia’s in, we’re in for a shitshow when we get back, too.

(Time passes as the ceremony concludes…)

(Ignihyde Dorm: Lounge)

Idia (Tablet): Here we are, at the “ever illustrious” Ignihyde dorm, based on the diligent nature of the King of the Underworld.

Ben: He's still not showing up in person...? He's not planning on giving the whole opening welcome like that... right?

Idia: Welcome to your school life for the rest of your stay here. Dark, gloom, and doom, and that's about it. You're all pretty unfortunate to be sorted here out of all the dorms, but it's whatever. You'll get used to it. Idia: If you have any questions about the dorm, look it up yourselves on the school website. It's kept pretty up to date and should have all the information you need. Idia: Unlike you newbies, I have a pretty right ship I have to run. Unless it's an emergency, try not to go out of your way to bother me. I have my vice dorm heads here for a reason. Idia: Anyway, to further welcome you to the dorm and get you all situated with your new living situations, I have my second in command here on standby to assist. Idia: Take it awaaaaayyy, Ben.

Ben: Wh- are you serious, he’s gonna make me…?! Ben: (sigh) This isn’t gonna end well… Ben: Alright... deep breath, mask on.

(Ben departs from the crowd and steps up beside Idia)

Ben: Ahem… Hey, what’s up gamers! I’m Benjamin Walker, second in command for Ignihyde. You all can just call me “Ben” though. Ben: Anyway, don't listen to what our gloomy dorm head says, Ignihyde isn't actually all that bad! In fact, I'd say we're one of the coziest dorms on campus! Atmosphere aside~ Ben: We've got the best Ethernet and WIFI on campus down here! And we'll be hosting LAN parties for special occasions too! Everyone's welcome to join in, so if you make friends in other dorms, feel free to bring them over too! Ben: If you're more interested on the mechanical side of things, we've also got a whole room on the first floor that's just for metalwork. Ben: There's blacksmithing supplies, welding and soldering tools, tons of scrap metal that's free for public use, and we even have a hydraulic press! Ben: The hydraulic press needs a key to work though, so you'll have to ask me or Idia for access. It's to prevent incidents from happening... again. Ben: Oh! And if you ever wanna get food delivered, we've got a great set of drones we just got set up that will take your order right to your dorm room door-

Ignihyde Mob A: Ugghh, how long are we gonna have to sit through this spiel?! Give it a rest already, your hypebeasting needs serious work!

Ben: Uh- heh... come again?

Ignihyde Mob A: Come on, dude, quit wasting our time with this bullshit. It's so obvious how fake this all is. Ignihyde Mob A: The first thing we got to hear when we got here is how shitty our school life is going to be from our dorm head himself, and now you're standin' here trying to buy us back with WIFI and a rec room?!

Ben: Uh... Yeah, kind of, I guess. Is it working~?

Ignihyde Mob B: Lil' bit, not gonna lie...

Ignihyde Mob A: Man, you can't even pretend?! Ignihyde Mob A: This is a joke, just a giant ass joke! Our dorm head can't be bothered to even show up on day one, and now we have some jackass influencer trying to buy us over so we don't get dorm reassignments!

Ben: Hey, I'm not some influencer! I'd be getting paid at least for doing this, if I was.

Ignihyde Mob A: He's not even getting paid?!

Idia: Why the hell would he? I'm not getting paid for having to deal with all of you low-level crybabies in chat.

Ignihyde Mob B: Oi! I'm not some crybaby!

Ignihyde Mob C: Yeah, what the hell?! What kind of dorm head talks to their first years like that?!

(Murmurs start to stir in the crowd of new students)

Ignihyde Mob A: I can't believe all this. I can't believe that I actually was excited to be coming here to NRC when people like you two are the ones in charge of the dorms. Ignihyde Mob A: How's the dorm head even decided here, anyway? Is it really all just who your family is? Ignihyde Mob A: I bet that's it, isn't it? However much money your family makes, that gets your the seat at the head! Ignihyde Mob A: Well, I might not be rich, but I bet I could take the position of dorm head by force if I wanted! I'm already a hell of a mage as is!

Ignihyde Mob C: Hey, you're gonna need a vice dorm head too, aren't ya? Ignihyde Mob C: I bet being in charge would be a lotta fun, actually~ I'll be your backup if you're serious about this. If it's two to two, your odds are evened~

Ignihyde Mob B: I'm not all that interested in the power or anythin', but I guess I can throw my name into the ring too. Could be fun to go a few rounds with a real challenger for once.

Ignihyde Mob A: Haha, yeah! That's what I'm talkin' about~! Who else is with me?!

Phobos: That's enough.

(Phobos emerges from the crowd and stands before the crowd of Ignimobs)

Phobos: I'm done with listening to all this pointless barking. I think it's about time someone reminded you lot of who's really in charge here and why.

Ignihyde Mob A: Yeah? And who the hell are you supposed to be?

Phobos: Phobos Banner. Third in command for Ignihyde Dorm.

Ignihyde Mob A: Hah! So our dorm head’s so incompetent that he needs not only a second but a third vice dorm head in charge? That’s rich!

Ignihyde Mob C: Heh, we've only been here all of three seconds and I bet we could easily take him and claim the role of Dorm Head as our own.

Ignihyde Mob B: You idiots are just askin' for a manhandling. One of them, maybe we could take, but not all three of them.

Ignihyde Mob A: C'mon, puff out your chest! You're not really gonna let some half-competent seniors be the ones bossing us around for the next three years, are ya?!

Ignihyde Mob B: I mean I wouldn't mind having a bigger dorm to myself, that's for sure, but still-

Phobos: Haahh... If you all think you're such hot shit, then fine. Lets test your strength. I don't need backup to keep you all in line. Phobos: Now... Have your knees give out on the cold, bitter ground. Kneel, like dogs, before the one who bears the crown.

Ignihyde Mob C: Hah! What's this about? Some kind of poetry reading... ugh!

(The mobs suddenly start collapsing to the floor)

Ignihyde Mob A: W-What's...?! Ow- I can't move my legs...?!

Ignihyde Mob B: H-Hey, why me too...!? What the bloody hell are you doing to us..!?

Phobos: Weakness courses through quivering veins, body and mind submit. Your face hits steel, your mind assent. Phobos: Your heart beats weaker, lungs tighten. Blood flow hindered binds your thoughts. Amidst the fog, your life stays taut.

Ignihyde Mob C: N-Nghh... I can't... my arms are shaking... I c-can't keep my body up.

Ignihyde Mob B: Everything's... getting all hazy.

Phobos: Recognize your master. Know your place. Phobos: The voice that calls you, a light in the darkness. Your hand of salvation, from a life condemned. Phobos: Follow the flame, I'll show the way. Surrender your soul. Submit. Obey.

Ignihyde Mob A: S-Submit... obey...

Ignihyde Mob B: Submit... obey...

Ignihyde Mob C: Submit... obey...

Phobos: The voice that calls you demands your submission. Accept the call. Surrender yourself. Know your place.

Ignihyde Mobs: I surrender myself. I know my place.

Phobos: Good. Looks like you're starting to understand now who's in charge and why. Phobos: As the calm before the storm, so too does it follow. The weakness dissipates, blood flow circulates as it once was, air rushes back to weakened lungs. Phobos: Minds of clarity once restored, and bodies rushed anew with life light.

Ignihyde Mob A: (gasp!) W-What the hell just... Ugh, my head is spinning...

Ignihyde Mob B: I-I should've bloody known better than to get roped in with you two idiots...

Ignihyde Mob C: I feel like I just signed a contract written in blood... I'm just gonna live here on the floor forever now.

Phobos: Hmph... listen up, new blood. You think it’s all fun and games today because your dorm head disappeared when you expected him to be there. Phobos: He may not have made a public appearance today, but don’t for a second think that speaks to his abilities. He’s the dorm head for a reason. Phobos: Let this be a warning to all of you. Don’t fuck with us. Ignihyde dorm is in just as capable hands as any other dorm on campus. Phobos: And if you think I’m powerful, then you have no fucking clue what Ben is capable of, let alone Idia. Am I making myself clear?

Ignimobs: …...

Phobos: I said, am I making myself clear?

Ignimobs: Y-Yes sir!

Phobos: Good. Now shut up and pay attention to your dorm head. This is your only warning from me.

(Phobos departs from the crowd and leans against one of the nearby walls behind Ben and Idia)

Idia: Well… that was a little more intense than I thought day one would go. Looks like they finally quieted down for a change though. GG, Phobos.

Ben: Heheheh... I don't usually get to see him whip out his U.M. on somebody so publicly like this~ Ben: That coulda been a lot more fatal if he wanted it to be. You lot should be grateful you're first years. Next time, he might not be so forgiving~

Idia: I hate how much you enjoy watching him do that... if one of them actually dies because of him, I'm the one that has to clean up the mess... Idia: A-Anyway... it’s customary for each dorm to host a “welcoming feast” on night one, so that’s what we’re doing after the room assignment event's done. Idia: Catering should be here soon enough, so lets get this done and over with. Ben, you have the card keys, right?

Ben: Yeah, I got 'em right here. Ben: Alright, lets get this started! Whenever either me or Idia call your name from our list, come up and we’ll give you a map of the dorm layout and the card key for your dorm room. Ben: First on the list, we have…

(Time passes as the room quiets down, and the crowd begins to dissipate)

Phobos: Haah... Finally, some peace and quiet.

Ortho: Phobos Banner, may I have a word with you?

Phobos: ...What do you need?

Ortho: I just wanted to say thank you!

Phobos: Huh?

Ortho: Before, when you lectured my brother about his appearance to the ceremony… your words were harsh, but you spoke from a place of caring.

Phobos: The hell gave you that idea?

Ortho: You put a lot of importance onto the first impression of the newest members of our dorm, and on the memories they’ll be making when they arrive here. Ortho: You didn’t want them to have a bad first day; you wanted them to feel welcomed and optimistic when they came here. That shows you really do care about our dorm members and their time here at Night Raven College. Ortho: Though you were a bit rough with the first years when they began to revolt, you still acted only to incapacitate them temporarily, not to permanently injure them. Ortho: That resistance shows that you still care for them, and my brother's reputation, too.

Phobos: Tch… don’t get the wrong idea. Phobos: I don’t care about their time here… how they spend their life is none of my business. Phobos: I’m just not interested in some new blood getting cocky, causing problems, and trying to walk all over us upperclassmen. That’s all it is.

Ortho: Increased heart rate and sudden flushing of facial features. Abnormality in vital signs detected.

Phobos: S-Stop scanning my bio-readings! Ugh… Phobos: Just… tell Idia I’ll be waiting for my “payment” for taking care of things tonight. I’m going back to my room.

Ortho: Hehehe~ I’ll make sure to have him treat you well for all your hard work.

/ End

[h5eavenly]

I have free time right now because I can't do the river rafting with my leg so I'll continue here

Y/n is clearly setting herself up for the worst possible outcome of her actions taken in the blindness of anger. Something my mother always told me was "your mistake won't cause the same anger your lie will". I had a bad habit of trying to cover up every mistake I made by a lie, silly or impactful.

That's what y/n is doing right now and that's going to get her no good. She needs to get her shit straight and blurt it out to hyunjin. He's been nothing but the sweetest to her since they made up and he deserves the truth. And it's obvious how starstruck he is with her. The "I want to be her boyfriend"??? Clear indication. He's going to forgive her if it's still fresh and he can warn yeji. But if this goes on and yeji falls completely, hyunjin won't be that easy to accept any apology. His character is strong headed and sensitive to hurt caused by trusted ones, that's concluded by his hate towards y/n due to their past and his current distaste towards yeji and her situation of dating yeosang.

Yeji on the other hand is totally oblivious. It's almost sad how hard she wants to believe that the bond between her and yeosang is real and that he has no lasting feelings towards y/n. That's kind of dim of her. People don't lose feelings overnight. Especially not when they've kept on trying forever and battled rejections. That determination towards a person is love that turns into venomous obsession. Which is happening to yeosang. I get his state too, honestly. I felt his pain when he said he was tired of being the side piece. If y/n had no feelings or motive of a stable relationship with him, she should've never slept with him, or let him call her nicknames either. Every small consent is leading on when the other person is down fucking bad.

Everything is going to turn into a shit show. I know you that well now

-zosia

your mother is so wise what she said is 100% true and fits just right with yn's situation i think with yn anxiety also plays a huge rule in it too in the sense that she's type as soon as she feels anxiety towards a situation shes like oh shit i gotta shut it down quick so this feeling disappears (obvious in the way she tried to call off the bet and push it under the rug without hyunjin knowing anything) which is obviously unhealthy she's just very avoidant

saying you know me that well now made me chuckle cus it's actually so true i still cant get over the fact that you cracked half of my plot LMAO so happy you're gonna welcome my shitshow tho :D

[majaloveschris]

And it's not that I don't want him happy or that I want him to end with me; I just don't think she is a good person, and I don’t want somebody I like to end up with somebody I don't consider a good person.///

THIS!!!

👏

I hope Chris looks past the crazies in the fandom because yes they unfortunately exist, but I hope he realizes that if and when he gets in a truly HEALTHY and happy relationship with a awesome woman, this fandom will show support.

He’s been with problematic women which is why many think this is a legit relationship, but this PR stunt chick takes the freaking cake. She and her crew are racist and the reason we’re screaming PR is because he’d hope Chris would NEVER purposely associate with trash like the PT trio.

Also, it’s Chris Evans, the man expresses his emotions freely, if this man was truly in love he wouldn’t be acting like this nor sharing or trying to prove this shitshow to the world. We would know absolutely NOTHING about said relationship and if we got anything it would be an article stating he’s taken and maybe a personal IG post….like ONE not twenty five and it won’t be a freaking story that’s for sure. 😂

This man goes goo goo ga ga over Dodger and you can tell that is the current love of his life. Dude would be happy and smiling, not displaying Arthur fist and putting his hand in his pocket after dropping his hand from hers right after ensuring his photographer got the pap walk and was no longer in distance.

Like you can’t make this crap up.

Anyway like I said when it’s real we’ll be excited for him because that’s what many want, him to find his one and be happy and ensure said woman is good hearted like him, no trolling, not clout chasing, no riling up the fandom. Someone who loves him for HIM and a queen that he will protect and unfortunately he hasn’t gotten close to that yet. I’m sure he’s aware of that too, but who knows.

Mind you, yes there will be obviously be those select fans mad at anyone he dates but that’s not the case for majority and who knows if said woman is great we might start seeing Stan accounts for the two and people in the fandom defending her.

I welcome it. 😌

I'm also pretty sure there will always be people who won't like whoever he dates, but that's kind of unavoidable when you are famous and a lot of people have a crush on you. And yeah, I know he's dated questionable people, but let's be honest, some people will always dislike the woman he's dating just because she's dating him. But as you said, those are just a tiny part of the fandom, and there are a lot of people who would support a relationship if it was with a woman who is a good person.

I agree with you that if it were a real relationship, I don't think he would post this much about it or that we would've gotten that pap walk. Every picture and video are unnecessary since they won't change either side's opinion, and those who don't like or support them as a couple won't start loving them just because of a few scary videos and "lovely" pictures.

I also want him to be happy, and I think a lot of you feel the same way. I just don't see him as happy or healthy. The clout-chasing and trolling parts are one of the things that make this whole thing look so toxic. I don't think they are good people, and yeah, people can change, but to me, it doesn't seem like either of them did. I obviously don't know them personally, so this is just my opinion.

I think he should definitely work on himself. I do think he is a good human being, but I also think he shouldn't let people walk all over him. I think that sometimes he can be too indulgent with people around him, and I think this whole PR shitshow could teach him to stand up for himself and for the things he wants. I do think he wants to settle down, and I'm sure she is looking for a normal, nice woman and for someone who wants normal things like going on hikes or road trips. Who doesn't want to parade in LA every single day. Who just wants to lay low. However, he also needs to work out his issues before he can get the partner he's been looking for. I think he's already done some work, but yeah, you know what I mean.

I just hope one day he finds the person he is seeking. He deserves to be happy.

[sapphire-weapon]

i just finished Infinite Darkness and have a lot of Thoughts™️. please indulge me if you'd like.

spoiler + long post warning

i went into it with pretty low expectations because everyone kept on calling it a shitshow. it's not bad per se, but it wasn't good either. it was.. meh. 2.5/5.

afaik ID takes place in 2006, and RE4 in '04. so why tf does Leon look like he's at least 40??

that honestly fucked it up timeline-wise for me. was the show purposely designed not to fit into the timeline in any way whatsoever a la "welcome to raccoon city"?

if that's the case, Leon and Claire still somehow are able to remember the events of Raccoon City in this timeline.

my brain can't come to a logical conclusion over the timeline, so i'll leave it at that.

i wish they gave Claire more screen time. they did her so dirty imo.

what were they trying to set up with Claire and Leon's interactions? a loveteam? if this was so, what even was their last conversation in ep 4?

the Claire on top of Leon scene. tf? what the hell were they trying to set up? were they going to fuck and continue the redfield bloodline right then and there? kiss? hug? maybe punch each other's lights out?? i'm seriously so fucking confused.

Shen Mei and Leon too. Leon asks her out and she declines. what was the point of that conversation? i'm just going to assume it's to show the locket with Jun See's picture in it.

(were they trying to show how bitchless Leon is at least in this series?)

why the hell did Jason kill Shen Mei? what was the point? why didn't Leon give a shit when she died? it was like he just forgot about her.

i love how President Graham believes anything as long as Leon is involved. in ep 1 when Leon's late: "it's fine bc you saved my daughter." in the last ep when Patrick tells him that Wilson was behind everything and cites Leon as source, Mr. POTUS decides to wing his speech ON THE SPOT just because of that fact. what if Patrick was making it up? that really would have fucked up international relations and all that. i don't know. Graham really loves Leon i guess.

going off of that, i wish we got to see more of Patrick. i would have loved to see him interact more with Leon.

what is gonna happen to that chip!?

i have no idea if a Season 2 would be able to salvage/explain the plot, but honestly i don't think the series deserves a Season 2. it might be a waste of time and money plus an even bigger disappointment to fans.

alright, onto performances.

Nick Apostolides to me sounds like someone who's breaking in a new pair of shoes. it sounds like he's still getting used to walking in them and therefore tries different things (which i find ironic since he'd already voiced baby faced rookie cop Leon S. Kennedy atp, but also understandable as Leon sounded young in that game). he's all over the place imo. he sounded like RE2R Leon, RE4R Leon, and someone else entirely throughout the four episodes. but as you said in another ask, he really made up for it in RE4R. solid voice acting all around imo.

Ray Chase. before i saw him here i knew him as Neuvillette (aka "according to the judgment of the Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale") in Genshin Impact. his line delivery is stellar. i hope that's also him voicing mutated/infected Jason because he sounds fantastic there. but there's a line that he says there that sounds so awkward because the delivery is so sped up that the emotion is gone.

Stephanie Panisello also voices Claire in RE2R, but i haven't seen too much of her there to compare it to her performance here. i will say, however, that i honestly enjoyed her performance here, but there are times when she sounds like she's holding back a bit. it would have been perfect if she let go a little bit more.

Jona Xiao as Shen Mei was also great, but i think she also suffers the sams problem as Stephanje in that she sounds like she'a holding back.

Doug Stone as Wilson was perhaps the most enjoyable for me, as well as Billy Kametz who voiced Patrick.

this (https://youtu.be/HN2OkCu6FbE?si=jl7K8tILCYoheGCX) was pretty badass tho

https://youtu.be/7lnFgfhVW-E?si=RZ-EF-WN2vVDY8PS holy shit.

the unfortunate thing is

most of my responses to your reactions boil down to "welcome to the RE CGI-verse." like:

why tf does Leon look like he's at least 40??

i wish they gave Claire more screen time

why the hell did Jason kill Shen Mei? what was the point? why didn't Leon give a shit when she died?

all fall under that category LMAO

now, in terms of things i can respond to:

was the show purposely designed not to fit into the timeline in any way whatsoever a la "welcome to raccoon city"?

no. just because leon's character model looks bad doesn't mean that the story exists out of universe. it takes place in 06 and is part of the regular OG canon timeline. period.

what were they trying to set up with Claire and Leon's interactions?

nothing.

the CGI-verse is the reason why a few true cleon diehards still hold onto hope that cleon will still somehow be endgame, but the fact of the matter is that leon and claire just have That Kind of Friendship. it goes nowhere; it's just how they are.

Shen Mei and Leon too. Leon asks her out and she declines. what was the point of that conversation? i'm just going to assume it's to show the locket with Jun See's picture in it. (were they trying to show how bitchless Leon is at least in this series?)

both explanations are correct. ID adds a new dimension to the running "OG Leon is a Fucking Slut Who Can't Actually Score" gag by making him an actual homewrecker this time around. but ultimately yes it was to show the locket.

what is gonna happen to that chip!?

nothing and you know it lmao

this (https://youtu.be/HN2OkCu6FbE?si=jl7K8tILCYoheGCX) was pretty badass tho

this is the best moment that OG leon has in the entire series and i'm not joking. it's not the best in the sense of "this is when he, as a person, is at his best." it's the best in the sense of "this is the only moment in the entire series where we get to see leon do his Actual Job and know what he Actually Does outside of outbreak incidents, and it serves to add more context and perspective to so many other facets of his character." i could write an entire fucking essay about this scene/moment. god.

goD

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Meteor Shower (Part 6)

The Winx girls arrive at exactly twelve in the afternoon, all glitter, glitz, and glam. All perky, pink, and lovely. They wear vividly colored leopard print mini-dresses with fuzz trim and tinsel. They wear hoop earrings with dangly add-ons and flower crowns.

Does it go over well? 

Sure.

Just about as well as Icy thought it would go over.

“What are these losers doing here?”

“They’re our opening act.” Icy replies. Unless, of course, the silly pixie gets her way and they decide to duo headline. Ugg, what a headache. 

“Since when?” Stormy throws her hands up.

“Since yesterday. We’ve been looking for an act for days now and everyone is either busy with their own show or not talented enough to not embarrass us. We have exactly one day to find an opening band before our tour is supposed to start.” She pauses. “We don’t exactly have many options, sisters.” It isn’t as though she is thrilled about this arrangement either. And she can’t imagine that the Winx are particularly pleased if Stella’s expression is anything to go by. 

“Perfect.” Darcy grumbles. “Just perfect.” 

“Look, let’s just get this done with. We’ll discuss how this is going to work and show them out.” She doesn’t anticipate that they will overstay their welcome well after they work out the details of their temporary alliance. 

Bloom lounges on their couch and Stella is helping herself to their mini-bar well after they have laid out the ground rules. Rules that have been written and then signed by all of them. Rules that will be plastered on the walls of their tour busses. 

They will not infringe on one another’s wardrobe choices and musical choices.

They will deal with each other’s creative differences. 

Moderate complaining is permitted.

Magical combat is not.

The Winx will stay out of their fridge and will not touch their booze.

The Trix will not try to steal the dragon fire while on tour.

They will not try to steal each other’s fanbases.

They will not try to outperform one another nor make the tour into a competition.

Musa will share the aux cord if they are to, for some unholy reason, to drive in the same vehicle.

They will be limited to ten insults a day.

This rule has leeway.

Lots of leeway.

This rule can be crossed out if need be.

This tour doesn’t, by any means, make them friends. 

They will, for the most part, mind their own damn business.

They will not talk about what goes on behind the scenes and on the tour buses. 

Not to fans.

Not to magazines.

Not to interviewers.

Not to overly enthusiastic podcast hosts.

Not to anybody.

Except for a therapist, if they drive each other to that point by the end of the tour.

Icy and Bloom will not come up with any more dreadful ideas for the duration of this tour.

They will be separated if need be.

More rules will be added as needed.

This entire tour is going to be a shitshow if Stella’s blatant and immediate disregard for rule three is anything to go by.

“You guys don’t have anything fruity?” The fairy comments. 

“You shouldn’t be touching our bar anyhow.” Darcy shrugs. Icy makes a note to keep their fridge stocked with only hard liquors.  

Icy folds her arms across her chest and props her legs up on the table. Bloom sits across from her with headphones over her ears and blue CD player in her hand. It is covered in stickers; flames, bunny rabbits, carrots, and pizza slices. Most of which are faded. 

Icy takes a sip of absinthe. 

Bloom swaps one CD for another. 

Icy catches a flash of the album cover; a shimmery silver thing spotted with falling stars and a big oak tree with white branches and a circle of crystals; Diamond, Topaz, Goldstone, Ruby, Chalcedony, and Kyanite. 

“You actually listen to that shit?”

“This shit happens to be my favorite band at the moment.” Bloom grumbles. 

“Get better taste.” Icy suggests. 

“I have, that’s why I stopped listening to your music.”

“As if. You can’t even name one song that our band has made.”

“Catacomb Cataclysm.” Bloom says with such confidence for someone who is so incorrect.

“That’s a Mourning Moor song.” 

“Wait, what!?” Bloom shouts. 

“Lucy’s band. Not mine.” Icy clinks her glass back onto the table. “Honestly…” she rolls her eyes. “I sound nothing like Lucy.” 

“But Darcy sort of does.”

“Maybe if you squint your ears or something.” Icy folds her arms over her chest.

“You know who you sound like!” Bloom picks up the MeTor Shower CD in her lap and tucks it back into her purse. “Musa. You sort of sound like Musa. Maybe we could use that!”

“Use that?” Icy grumbles. “This isn’t a collaboration, we’re not singing together. You’re opening for…”

“We’re a duo headliner.” Bloom corrects. 

“Whatever. We’re two separate acts. Nothing  more.” She gives a dismissive wave. “I don’t care how much I sound like Musa. That duet is so not happening.”

“Because you’d rather sing with me!?” Bloom smirks. 

She should kick the fairy and all of her friends out now. She should have done that as soon as Stella started exploring their bar. “I’d rather lick the underside of a bar stool.” 

Bloom’s face crinkles. “Gross.”

“No more than you are.” 

The squabble should have ended there but Bloom pushes on with a very solid and bold, “no you!”

For the love of all things dark and wicked, this is going to be such a long tour. She resents Darko in double for letting his bandmates walk all over him.

He hasn’t called her all week.

.oOo.

She is losing herself, bit by bit she is losing herself. Becoming someone else. Someone she doesn’t recognize who says things that she would never say. Things like, “I didn’t need you five anyways” and “you’ve just been holding me back.” 

The girls don’t like being around her anymore. They don’t like her anymore and she doesn’t know if she does either.

She isn’t sure if Diamond ever had liked being around her. She is sure that Diamond hates her now. Diamond was the first one to grow tired of the new her. 

The new her. The better her. The version of her that has a gorgeous smile. The version of her that can slowly wave as she walks by and turn heads. The version of her that the light always seems to hit just right. The version of her whose hair the wind always blows in ways that make photoshoots easy to breeze through.

The new her that has forgotten how to talk to her own friends. Even Chalcedony is growing distant.

It is becoming a regular thing for her to contemplate quitting MeTor shower to focus solely on her solo material. Valtor assures her that that would be the smart move, that the other five are holding her back.

She has her own team of makeup artists. 

The other girls still do their own makeup. 

There is a little itch that Kyanite would like to scratch, the one that beckons her to go over there and do her own makeup. That nagging little twitch is massively undercut by dread. Dread and a knowing that, even if she does work up the courage to go over there, she won’t be a part of the giggling and joyful chattering. Still that itch won’t let up; it tells her that she won’t know unless she tries. That, maybe, they will welcome her back when they realize that she knows that she is not too good to do her own makeup. 

“Actually, we were just finishing up here, Kya.” Ruby shrugs. 

“Oh.” Kyanite replies. “Right, yes.” But she has not missed that Ruby’s makeup is only half applied. “My mistake.” She should hold her tongue but there is something inside of her. A simmering, a budding resentment. Something that she finds irresistible.“It’s just that it looks so sloppy, I figured that you were still working on it.” And when the words leave her lips it appeases that something. That something is satisfied by how stricken Ruby looks. As if Ruby hadn’t been trying to inflict that same hurt. And so Kyanite finds herself relishing in Ruby’s offense; it shields her from the sting of rejection.

“You are going to fix that, right?” She continues. And the same something that revels in Ruby’s upset compels her to comment, “you should also work on Chalcedony’s makeup, we don’t need her to embarrass herself.” 

That something might have always been there, deep inside, waiting for its chance to emerge. It not just one thing, but a horrid amalgamation of emotions; it is rage, she realizes. Rage and resentment. 

And sorrow. Deep, deep, nagging sorrow. 

It is a desire to make people feel how she had always felt when she scrolled through comments on their music videos to find that she would take the brunt of everyone’s criticisms. How she had felt when reading those comments about how she wasn’t idol material and should leave MeTor. 

She had never been the fan favorite. 

And the other girls never seemed to care; they liked to pretend like it wasn’t happening so not to shatter their own illusions. Their perfect little idol world where all six of them were happy and popular and beautiful. 

She will shatter it, Kyanite decides, bit by bit she will destroy the delusion. Obliterate this picture perfect world where popstars only ever smiles and charm. She will break her bandmates in the same way that they never realized they were breaking her.

“Leave Chalcedony alone!” Ruby snaps.

And that only brings Kyanite’s distaste to the brim. To the brim and then to a boiling over. Just where had that been when talk show hosts took jabs at her quiet nature, when game show hosts ‘joked’ about her magical abilities, when the fandom dubbed her as the chubby one? Where had that protective energy been then? 

Kyanite scoffs. “I’m just trying to keep her from looking ridiculous up there and making us look ridiculous.” She gives her hair a flick and makes her way back to her own makeup team. She doesn’t need to look behind her to know that four pairs of hateful eyes are piercing her back. That one pair of eyes are downcast and misty with tears. 

And that thing inside of her tucks itself away. Regret comes to fill the empty space that it has left. She thinks that Kyanite has died.

“How foolish.” Valtor clicks his tongue. “If she can’t handle critique then the spotlight is not for her. You my dear, you can handle the spotlight.” He pauses. “Right?”

Her stomach sinks. What critique could he possibly have for her this time? She has done everything right. But there is always something. Her hair, the way she walks, the accessories she has chosen. There is always something that needs to be tweaked, changed, and altered. 

Always. 

It is going to break her. 

She was already broken. 

She is beginning to think that she can’t handle the spotlight.

But, God, it looks so good on her.

[ashadowofburnedoutstardust]

That anon with the comment about TLQ turning into a love blog for AB must have been reading a different blog because it was not that at all. If anything, the owners of TLQ have been staying they don't understand the rs and find it disappointing that he would choose someone like her. I don't like either tbh but let's not cause more drama than there already is in this fandom.

What the anon said was that after they questioned the storyline that was being pushed in an anon ask and found it a suspicious reaction to be simply blocked and dismissed.

If the owners of TLQ had any actual inside information from genuine sources then they wouldn't feel any disappointment at all, because he has not chosen her, and they are not engaged.

This entire situation has been PR from the get go, a PR shitshow that Christopher is fighting to get out of, and finally has people in his corner helping him to fight his way out of it.

I honestly don't care about the opinion of a blog whose sole reason for existing seems to be to proclaim themselves as the authority on Chris Evans owed entirely to longevity that does not belong to the current blog owners and whose narrative is not only false but damaging to Christopher's reputation by continuously linking him to the Portuguese stalker girl, over and over again.

The owners of TLQ are quite welcome to stop causing more drama in the fandom should they so choose at any time.

But what they may not expect is people who KNOW differently to sit by and say nothing to contradict them.

[rulers-of-hungary-tournament]

ROUND 2, MATCH 5

Admin's commentary: Yes I know those pictures look way too similar, don't blame me, blame the guy who made pictures for the Johannes Turocz chronicle. And I think it's actually quite poetic, to have guys with such similar pics battle.

***

WHAT MY PROFESSOR OF MEDIEVAL HISTORY SAID ABOUT THEM

II.András (Ondrej II.) 1205-1235

on his backstory see entries for Imre and III.László, allegedly ascended the throne with the ambitions to build a "new order" - which he did, if by "new order" you mean "seeds of feudal anarchy" (buckle up kids, this one is going to be a long one, basically this dude did a lot of things and none of them well)

tried to gain support of the nobility by giving away royal land (he later came to his senses and tried to gain back at least some of it, but it was too late), and then compensated for the lost income by a series of questionable orders (special taxation, customs fees - which hurt Hungarian trade, devaluation of the coinage); all of this empowered his closest circles while also being a Bad Time for everyone else, lower nobility (or its closest equivalent in medieval Hungary) eventually got fed up with his sheneningans and forced him to issues the Golden Bull of Andrew II., a document entrenching the privileges of all nobility regardless of wealth (freedom from taxation, right to rise up against the king if he doesn't respect their rights etc.), many consider this the real beginings of nobility in Hungary (privileged classes of course existed before, but only the Golden Bull unified them under one label)

the three aims of his foreign policy were keeping good relations with the Byzantines (which he doesn't seem to have failed particullarly badly in), gain the throne of Galicia (which he did get part of in an agreement with Leszek, duke of Poland - don't know which one exactly) and go on a crusade to the Holy Land (which was an unmitigated disaster, basically he left for a while and when he returned, the country was in shambles)

he also settled the Teutonic Order in Hungary and gave them various privileges, hoping to use them to protect the country against Cuman raids, but then they started causing trouble and act as a state within the state, so in the end he was also the one who kicked them away

he did a couple of good things too, like settle more Saxons in Hungary, welcome mendicant orders into the country and so on, but honestly these things pale in comparison with his numerous fuckups

IV.László (Ladislav IV.) 1272-1290

during his reign the start of oligarchy - basically, the nobles do whatever the fuck they want and the king can't do anything about it, @rulers-of-poland-tournament might find this situation familiar; not really his fault, at least at first, since he was a kid at the time of his ascencion to the throne, but the guy died at 27, so you'd think he would at least try to do something about it

that "something" being befriending Cumans (nomadic non-christian people from the steppes), to the point that he's literally called "The Cuman"

boy really thought he had something there, huh. that he'll use these steppe warriors against the nobility. even if he pissed off the pope for consorting with the Cumans. instead the pissed off pope put a pressure on him to either christianise the Cumans or kick them out. and then he was murdered when drinking with his favourite steppe people (whether BY said steppe people is not clear from my notes).

also there was a second, lesser-known Mongol invasion of Hungary during his reign, honestly it was kind of a shitshow

[siriuslysatorusimping]

So... I did end up joining Tumblr.. Hi..?😅 I do have a question- were Nanami's last thoughts different from canon? I'm curious if he thought about Rinko. The answer will probably hurt me either way but now that I have this thought in my head I can't get it out🥲

Hi!! Welcome to the shitshow! 😂😂

I think that Nanami was thinking similarly to how he was in the manga, about if he'd done enough and how tired he was. Thinking about Haibara.

I do think that he thought of Rinko briefly. I would like to think that he thought about that night in the bar in What's Your Color and how he was glad he came back when he did because having her in his life made it worth it. He definitely lamented the drinks she owed him and he wished he'd teased her one more time about her color.

I think he worried a bit about her and hoped that she would be okay while knowing that she would be because she's strong and he believes in her.

And I think he thought about how he hopes she'll find happiness even after all the shit she's been through. And that Gojo gets his head out of his ass and just fucking marries her because Nanami knows she'll never ask anything from the idiot

OKAY COOL I MADE MYSELF FUCKING CRY I'M DONE WITH THIS ONE 😭😭😭💔💔