#Cinematic trope

[urdepressedslut]

You’re Mine, Sunshine ❝part five❞

♡ Pairing: Grumpy!Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: Getting to know each other better doesn’t go according to plan. Bucky has to comfort you and fix the mess he made. Will you forgive him?

♡ Warnings: self hate, mentions of parent death/family death, panic attack, heavy angst, fluff, literally sobbing i love them

Part 6

Trope ⇢ Grumpy x Sunshine | Mob!Au Bodyguard!Au

It was almost becoming a mantra, reminding himself daily that he needed to keep things strictly professional. He just didn’t realize how hard it would be. You were so easy to be around, it was a different change of pace with you, he felt he could actually think— slow his mind down around you.

He had tried to digest the thought many times.

I could be her friend, nothing more.

Would it be unprofessional though? He tries to think how Pierce would react to that. He feels completely and utterly confused— the devil and angel on his shoulders battling constantly.

Even then, he was already a bad friend— if that. He was keeping something from you— something extreme. He had caught himself thinking of where you could be in the house— the part of him deep down wanting to tell you. He knew he should, but he knew that’s not what Pierce wanted. If anything, Bucky didn’t want to mess anything up— or he’d never see you again. The thought shouldn’t of scared him as much as it did, but he didn’t like it.

That’s where he found himself in the bathroom of his room, staring into his own eyes through the reflection. He had showered and caught himself trying to find a nice shirt amongst his clothes— immediately he stopped. He had to take a moment to take a deep breath and remind himself how ridiculous he was being.

It had been so long since he actually cared about his appearance. But as he was scanning every line and wrinkle on his face in the mirror— he knew he was doomed. Suddenly he felt insecure, and for once it wasn’t about his arm. His mind was consumed with the thought if he was good enough. While he felt overwhelmed, because he had never worried about such a thing. Well, in awhile at least.

You had kept yourself busy in the library for most of the day, and while you looked to be buried into the books— your thoughts were of him. You couldn’t ignore the giddy feeling that his words gave you— his want to get to know you better. Maybe, just maybe— he wanted to be your friend.

Just as you were about to get up and leave to seek out Bucky, you heard the sound of the library doors opening. A smile worked its way onto your face, excited to see him— though you had just seen him not that long ago.

Heavy footsteps echoed through the space, and soon revealed a handsome looking Bucky. Your mouth hung slightly open, his appearance looking sharper than usual. He was wearing his classic black shirt, and had the black leather jacket over— along with his jeans that hugged him just right in all the areas. He wasn’t dressed all that different, so why did he look so good.

You cleared your throat and broke your stare— yes he looked good. But you shouldn’t stare.

“You look great James, I wish I would’ve put something better on.” You laughed nervously, looking down at your t-shirt and shorts— along with your different colored socks.

Bucky on the other hand, thought you looked fine. He was pretty sure you could wear pretty much anything and look good in it. He also shook off your compliment, thinking you were just being sweet like you always were.

“You look fine, (Y/n).” He assured you.

Truthfully, standing here in front of you now— Bucky wants nothing more than to go back upstairs, choosing to avoid getting to know you better. He wasn’t sure why his walls were coming down so easily, but he hated it. Oh he hated it— he hated you.

“So…” You started, walking back to your seat. Bucky followed after and took his spot from the nights before. “I know this kinda takes the fun out of this but— I had a list of questions.”

Bucky shook his head but chuckled lowly, not surprised at all.

“Of course you do.” He acknowledged, and you scratched the back of your neck nervously.

“Uh— but there are rules! I made them up of course— but there aren’t many.” You rushed out, sitting crisscrossed in your seat.

Bucky exhaled annoyed, but couldn’t really argue otherwise. This was his idea. Was it to distract you from going out? Yes. But a part of him really did want to get to know you better.

“Alright, what’s the rules?” He asked, crossing his leg over the other— leaning back in his seat.

“Okay the first one— you have to answer the question that’s asked, no matter what.” You told him, watching him raise his eyebrows.

“Easy.”

You giggled, remembering how fast the conversation ended last time because he didn’t want to answer. This would be harder than he thought— but you wouldn’t call him out on it.

“Second rule— Can’t ask dumb questions.” You told him, and he chuckled again.

“That’s the second rule?” He chuckled, and you nodded your head.

“Yup.” You confirmed, “Okay— who should go first?”

You were ready to jump right into it, while Bucky was still thinking about your rules— rethinking his decision to do this.

“Why don’t you start doll, since you apparently have a list.” He spoke sarcastically, and you couldn’t stop the heat from rising to your cheeks at the nickname.

He never called you that before, and you didn’t know what to think of it.

“Um… okay yeah,” You thought about your first question, deciding to go easy on him at first, “What’s something you like to do on your free time?”

Bucky squinted his eyes, expecting a more personal question from you. He also had to think for a second— what did he like to do? He used to have hobbies at one time, but he couldn’t recall any in the moment. He felt he was a pretty boring person. There was one thing.

“I like to read sometimes.” He answered, and you smiled at that.

“Really? You don’t seem to spend a lot of time in the library for someone who likes to read.” You joked— knowing he was rather busy with his job as a bodyguard.

“Well, if I had free time— I’d probably be here.” He pointed out, slowly melting into his seat, his muscles relaxing against the couch.

“Okay your turn.” You told him.

Bucky didn’t want to admit it, but he as well had a list of questions for you. Things he was dying to know about you.

“What do you want to do in the future?” He asked, and you looked at him with furrowed brows.

“Huh?”

“What’s your dream job— like, what do you want to do for the rest of your life? Besides read.” He added at the end, making you giggle.

You thought about your answer for a moment, smiling to yourself when you came up with one.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever stay in one spot, there’s so much I want to do. But whatever happens, I wanna volunteer places. I want to help people— help them heal, cope. I just wanna do good.” You explained happily.

Bucky was not surprised by your answer by the slightest— of course you wanted to be helpful. It only made sense with your bubbly personality. He cleared his throat, fighting down a smile.

“Your turn again.”

You nodded and took a second to think of a question again, closing your eyes in thought. An idea popped into your head and you were hesitant about it. Last time you’d brought it up— he left.

“What’s your family like?” You asked anyway, keeping your voice soft in hopes he’d feel more comfortable.

Bucky tensed immediately and just glared at you for a second. His jaw clenched, and his eyes squinted at you. He was annoyed at you pestering him with this question— he’d answer every single one but this one. He’d play dirty if you were.

“My family… isn’t around anymore.” He answered quietly, his anger lacing his words.

His tone had you swallowing nervously, and deep down you regretted asking him. You didn’t mean any harm by the question, and you immediately felt bad. Your heart hurt for him, the way he didn’t have a family.

“I— James I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t o—”

You tried to apologize but got cut off.

“My turn.” He interrupted, sitting up in his seat now. His whole body tense again, his relaxed muscles no more. “Why does your Father hate you?”

He couldn’t stop himself from letting the words out, but as soon as they passed his lips— he was ashamed of himself. His face softened immediately at your face dropping, the way your fingers started to fiddle anxiously with the hem of your shirt.

You were shocked— at a loss for words. You probably deserved his anger, but you weren’t expecting such a harsh question. You felt your chest tighten, and suddenly you weren’t in denial anymore. Everything you’d ever thought— the nights you wondered if your Father really did hate you. You pushed away with a laugh, knowing he could never. But now as someone else witnessed it, and pointed it out. It ought to be true— and you felt sick.

“Um… He’s just having a h-hard time with the passing of my…” You tried to take a deep breath, feeling your throat tighter than usual. “Hard time with my mothers passing is all.”

You repeated from the first day meeting him. Your head pounded— your ears thumping loudly. Your fingers were numb and you felt like you couldn’t swallow.

Were you having an allergic reaction to something?

You tried to take another deep breath and felt your chest stop expanding. Your eyes widened in panic for a second.

Bucky felt so shitty— he couldn’t control himself for a simple question. The fact that you had answered it anyway broke his heart. He watched as your eyes darted around, in search of help. The way he could start to hear your breathing— the way you were beginning to wheeze.

“(Y/n), you ok—”

“Excuse m-me for a s-second.” You rushed out, stumbling out of your chair and towards the library doors.

Bucky was concerned for you, standing up immediately to go follow you. He was so ashamed of himself, angry that he let himself lose control like that. He had sensitive topics that just brought up a defensive side in him. The image of your face as soon as he had said the words was burned into his brain. You didn’t deserve that— you had been nothing be sweet since you two had met.

Making it up the stairs, he started down the hallway— body tensing in alert at the sight of you sitting up against the hallway wall. He rushed forward, kneeling down to your curled up form, scanning over you for injuries.

“(Y/n), what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He asked frantic, he noticed your hand clutching the area above your heart.

You shook your head, but seemed confused— and only panicked more when you couldn’t get the words out right away.

“I c-can’t breathe!” You wheezed out, your hand not clutching your chest— reaching out to grab onto Bucky.

You held onto him like he was your lifeline.

“I-I think I’m having a-an allergic reaction.” You panted, fisting Bucky’s sleeve in panic.

Bucky didn’t know it was possible for his heart to break anymore— but he swore he heard the cracking sound. He felt it drop to his stomach, his own throat tightening with emotions. You were having a panic attack— and it was because of him. You had no idea, and yet here you were still clinging onto him when he was the cause of it all. He was disgusted with himself.

“(Y/n)— you’re not having an allergic reaction. You’re having a panic attack.” He explained to you clearly, holding onto your shoulders, trying to bring you comfort.

You nodded in understanding, feeling lightheaded from lack of oxygen to the brain. Tears began to escape your eyes, you felt helpless— you felt like you were dying.

“James…” You whimpered, “I’m s-scared!”

Again, he felt his non existent heart break again— falling into his stomach. He felt sick watching this go down, wanting nothing more than for this all to be a nightmare.

He had experience with panic attacks and luckily knew what to do— he just couldn’t get over the fact that he caused it.

He grabbed your hand fisting his sleeve and put it above his heart. You lifted your flushed face, your bloodshot eyes watching your hand. You could feel the strong thump of his heartbeat, the feeling soothing against your palm.

“I want you to try and breathe with me, okay? I want you to match my heartbeat. You feel it?” He asked you softly, his voice gentle like honey.

You nodded your head, trying to focus on slowing your breathing— stop your chaotic mind from spiraling.

“In… and out— In… and out.” He started breathing, and you struggled to match him at first, but as your eyes met with his— you felt your heartbeat start to match his rhythm.

His eyes were comforting and warm. You felt safe in his hold— and you could already start to feel your everything relaxing.

“Good, just keep breathing with me. I’ve got you— you’re gonna be okay.” He assured you, rubbing your shoulders up and down soothingly.

You knew you’d be risking it, but you slowly moved forward— wrapping your arms around his bulky frame.

Bucky tensed up at first, a part of him knowing he should push you away— this wasn’t professional. But he knew he couldn’t— not after what he did. He relaxed, and wrapped his arms hesitantly around your back, hugging you tight against him. He could feel your quick heartbeat thumping competitively against his. He could feel your breath fanning his neck— as you rested your chin in the crook of his neck.

He hadn’t felt such affection in so long— he had missed how much he craved the protection— the security he felt being in someone’s arms.

Now, in Bucky’s hold— you felt at peace. You knew he’d never let anything happen to you. You still trusted him with your life.

“Doll,” You smiled weakly into his neck, “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t of asked you that— I’m an asshole.”

You held onto him tighter— enjoying the embrace while you had it. You were sure it would never happen again.

“It’s okay James, I’m sorry too.” You weakly replied, your body drained of energy. “Thank you, I feel a lot better now.”

He wanted to scoff. You wanted to thank him for helping you out of a mess that he caused. You had the right to scream, punch, kick him. But he knew you’d never do that— and that’s what killed him.

He didn’t know how to respond to your thanks, and stayed silent instead. Holding onto you— never intending to let go until you did first.

“I’m tired James.” You mumbled sleepily.

“I’ve got you doll.” He whispered, easily standing with you in his arms.

He slowly and carefully carried you to your room, setting you down gently onto your bed. He was having déjà vu— memories of when he first carried you to bed that one night.

He lifted the covers, tucking you in. He watched you for a second, examining your face like you were a piece of art. His eyes danced all the way from your chin— passed your lips— to your eyes. Before he could stop himself, he was reaching out to brush a loose strand of hair out of your face. You sighed and leaned into his touch, and this time— he didn’t fight the smile down. He gazed down at you warmly, genuinely smiling for the first time in awhile.

“Stay with me.” You mumbled sleepily, just as you had wanted to that one night.

Bucky took a deep breath, staring down at you with sudden tenderness. He shook his head, ridding his mind of the thought.

“Okay.” He told you, watching you give a small smile in your sleep. Snuggling your face into the pillow.

Although both of you didn’t really get to scratch off every question of each others list— you both felt more connected after today. You just wanted someone, someone constant in your life. Bucky needed more light in his life— like you.

You both needed each other more than you realized.

🤍 taglist is officially closed for this series 🤍

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[razberrypuck]

ik I've joked about it before but I really do love how the slimecicle character formula is just like. make a silly goofy wet guy. give him unimaginable amounts of childhood trauma and bad coping mechanisms. make his life just a little bit better and then tear it away from him. gay rp to ease the pain. and you know what? I eat that shit up every time we love charlie slimecicle in this household

[glitchedcosmos]

What if during the movies quiet, emotional climax, shadow, dropped to the ground, experiencing the agonizing result of struggling and carrying on for so long, bitter, broken, and exhausted from endless rage, is gently and quietly told “ you must be so tired” by Sonic , what then huh? What thEN???

[kikikoijo]

Queer media really just always be like ✨HANDS✨

She Makes My Heart Flutter (2022) | The Eighth Sense (2023) | The Eighth Sense (2023) | My School President (2022) | Fragrance of the First Flower (2021) | GAP The Series (2022) | A Time Called You (2023) | Moonlight Chicken (2023) | My School President (2022) | Dangerous Romance (2023)

Gif creds: @damnthosewords @tomystars @forcebook @firstkhao @gabrielokun @weiwuxian @liveasbutterflies @mantrisanu @bevioletskies @liyazaki

Part 2/? (Part 1)

[anonymousewrites]

Burden of Truth (Book 1) Chapter Eleven

Father Figure! Marc Spector x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Steven Grant x Teen! Reader

Mother Figure! Layla El-Faouly x Teen! Reader

Chapter Eleven: At the Sarcophagus

Summary: (Y/N) and Steven find the Sarcophagus of Ammit's Avatar, but Harrow finds it, too.

Mouse Note: Listen...I can't say I'm sorry, but, uh, yeah.

            (Y/N) and Steven continued on their way through the new tunnel. It was a bit caved in with bits of rock fallen in their way, but nothing impeded them severely. Finally, they rounded a corner, and another chamber opened up.

            “Oh my stars,” said Steven.

            “My god,” said (Y/N).

            They stared at the room, lit by a ray of sunshine reflected off pools and trickles of water. Stepping over rocks, they approached the burial chamber of the pharaoh. Statues and murals lined the walls, and the sarcophagus itself stood on a dais in the center of the room.

            Steven stared at the artifacts. “Thutmose III. Nefertiti. It’s gotta be one of the big ones.”

            “You nearly kissed her,” said Marc, and Steven stumbled.

            “Steven?” asked (Y/N).

            “Just Marc talking,” said Steven, trying to ignore him as they continued.

            (Y/N) frowned and looked at his reflection in the water. They wished they could still hear Marc. It was lonelier without him. They wished they could be with Layla, Steven, and Marc all together again.

            “I should try to drown you or punch you again,” said Marc. “But you also told her the truth about why I’ve been pushing her away. And that was unexpected. And you protected (Y/N).” So he wouldn’t try to hit Steven.

            “Are these Macedonian?” said (Y/N), unknowingly interrupting the conversation. They knelt by the relics and murals. “I can’t remember these symbols or translate them, but these are Macedonian, aren’t they?”

            Steven knelt next to them. “No way. That’s impossible. Only one pharaoh…But he called himself Egyptian.”

            (Y/N)’s eyes widened. “No way. No way. Is this really…?”

            “I think we’re looking at the long-lost tomb of Alexander the Great,” breathed Steven, giddy and reverent all at once.

            (Y/N) stared at it. “…Oh god. We have to open the sarcophagus.” It felt wrong to disturb the tomb, but this was Ammit’s tomb. Alexander the Great had been her Avatar. She needed to be stopped. Harrow needed to be stopped.

            “That just feels wrong,” groaned Steven. “Everything inside of me is screaming not to open this thing.”

            “You want Harrow to get to Ammit first?” said Marc.

            “Of course I don’t want him to get to Ammit,” said Steven.

            “Marc again?” said (Y/N).

            “Yeah,” said Steven. He looked at (Y/N). “Ready?”

            “As I’ll ever be,” said (Y/N).

            Steven nodded. Together, they put their hands on the lid of the sarcophagus and pushed. It was tough going, but they managed to shit the top end of the lid off enough so that they could see the mummy within. This was the Alexander the Great. In the flesh (literally, since he was a mummy).

            “Where’s the ushabti?” said Marc.

            “He’s not holding the ushabti,” said (Y/N) at the same moment, frowning.

            Steven nearly smiled at the coincidence and answered both at once. “If you’re gonna hide it for all eternity, you’d probably put it in a place where the average looter wouldn’t think to look.”

            (Y/N) coughed and pulled up their sleeves. “Um, I think I know where.”

            “Where?” said Steven and Marc at the same time, though (Y/N) could only hear one.

            “It’s the voice symbolism again,” said (Y/N), grimacing and gesturing to the wrapped head and throat of Alexander the Great.

            “Oh. Oh, gross,” said Steven.

            (Y/N) steeled themself, reached out, and pulled away the wrappings around Alexander the Great’s face. “I am so sorry,” they muttered to the mummy and the memory of their parents. They shouldn’t be disturbing a resting place like this. But it needed to be done.

            “Oh…” Steven grimaced as (Y/N) slipped their hand into Alexander the Great’s mouth and reached into his throat.

            Forcing themself not to retch, (Y/N) felt a wave of relief as they felt a stone sculpture. Grabbing it, they pulled it out. The sunlight illuminated the return of Ammit’s ushabti to the world.

            “We found it,” breathed Steven.

            “Good job, kid,” said Marc, unable to hold back the pride. He deflated as he remembered (Y/N) couldn’t hear him now.

            (Y/N) nodded and smiled at Steven in relief.

            Footsteps approached, and they tensed, whirling toward the passage. They relaxed as they saw it was Layla. She had made it.

            “Layla, look!” said Steven proudly, gesturing to the ushabti in (Y/N)’s hands. “We won!” He laughed.

            (Y/N) frowned. Layla’s eyes were narrowed, and her body was tense as she came closer. Something was off.

            “(Y/N) had to reach down Alexander the Great’s throat, but we found it,” said Steven. He frowned as he finally saw Layla’s furious gaze. “You alright, love?”

            “Can he hear me?” she snapped.

            “Alexander? No, I don’t think so. God, I hope not,” chuckled Steven, trying to keep the good energy going.

            Layla kept going. “What happened to my father?”

            (Y/N) frowned and flinched. They didn’t like the feeling that was appearing in the room. Everything had been going fine. And now, now, something was wrong. (Y/N) stepped back.

            Layla walked up to Steven. “I’m talking to you.”

            “What?” asked Steven.

            “I’m talking to you, Marc,” snapped Layla, trying to get him to come out and speak to her.

            Steven frowned, his eyes rolled up, and when Layla had him looking at her again, it was Marc staring out. He had gotten control of the body.

            “Come on, come on, let’s go,” said Marc, trying to take control of the situation and avoid the conversation. He took (Y/N)’s arm and Layla’s hand, but Layla pulled back.

            “No,” she said forcefully.

            “We need to go right now,” said Marc.

            “What’s going on?” said (Y/N), pulling the end of their sleeves.

            “Marc, no. No,” repeated Layla, refusing to go with him. “What happened to my father?!”

            “Listen to me. We need to leave right now,” said Marc. “I will explain everything, I swear. But we have to go.”

            “He’s telling the truth,” said (Y/N), trying to help but unsure of themself.

            “No, I want to know now,” said Layla. She glared at Marc. “Did you kill Abdullah El Faouly?!”

            (Y/N)’s eyes widened, and their gaze snapped to Marc. Their chest constricted as the terrible question was left in the air.

            “Of course not. Of course I didn’t!” said Marc.

            “He’s…He’s telling the truth,” said (Y/N). “He didn’t kill him, Layla.”

            “But he was there,” said Layla, seeing that Marc was evading the whole truth. “Weren’t you?”

            “Marc?” asked (Y/N), looking at him.

             “I—” Marc couldn’t answer. Lying was impossible, but the truth was painful. It would destroy everything he’d built with Layla and whatever had started to grow between (Y/N) and Marc.

            “Yeah, you were there,” said Layla. She could read him clearly.

            Marc swallowed. Softly, he admitted the terrible truth. “I was there. Yeah. I was there.”

            “Yeah. And how did he die?” snapped Layla.

            (Y/N) covered their mouth and stepped back. “The mercenaries and the archaeologists.” What Fitzgerald and Kennedy had said in the car.

            “Kid—” Marc reached out to them, but he let his hand drop. “I—My partner got greedy.” He spoke quietly, tiredly, as everything he’d never wanted to admit forced itself to the surface and destroyed what he’d built. “He executed everyone at the dig site. I tried to save your father, Layla, but I couldn’t. And I—”

            Layla glared at him. “No. But you brought a killer right to him. Right?” She shoved him back, and Marc just took it.

            He nodded helplessly, willing to take any abuse to make up for the terrible things he’d done. “Yeah. He shot me, too. I was supposed to die that night. But I didn’t die that night. And I should have.” Marc gazed at Layla with so much emotion as she wiped tears from her cheeks. “I’ve tried to tell you since the moment we met. But I just didn’t know how.”

            Layla sobbed. Then, she froze. “Oh my god.”

            “I’m sorry,” said Marc.

            Layla turned on him. “That’s the reason we met.”

            (Y/N)’s eyes widened, and they clutched the ushabti tightly.

            “You just had a guilty conscience?” said Layla incredulously, and the way Marc stared back at her was answer enough.

            “Layla—”

            The sound of a rolling stone broke through the moment, and they all turned towards the passageway. The rustle of footsteps grew louder.

            “They’re here,” said Marc in alarm.

            “There must be another way out,” said Layla, wanting to stay alive to keep being angry.

            “Okay, go, find it. Take (Y/N). I’ll hold them off,” said Marc, grabbing an ornamental axe from the sarcophagus.

            At the same time, (Y/N) took their moment to go with Layla to stuff the ushabti into the backpack to hide it from sight. The moment that Layla darted to grab (Y/N), though, Harrow and his numerous armed men stepped into the room. Layla had to hide behind a column, and as (Y/N) tried to scramble back, a guard that had snuck around the side grabbed them. (Y/N) yelped. Marc’s eyes widened, and he took a step towards (Y/N) but froze as the guard held (Y/N) tightly and raised his gun. They kicked at him, but the man was stronger, and (Y/N) was stuck staring fearfully at Marc.

            “Be gentle with them. They’re just misguided,” said Harrow to the guard.

            (Y/N) and Marc’s eyes went to Harrow as he stood in the tomb with them. The scarab that had guided him there fell into his hand, the magic having done its job.

            “Just you two, isn’t it?” said Harrow. “The rest is silence.” He strolled closer. “I remember the first morning I woke up knowing that Khonshu was gone. The quiet was liberating. You’re both free. And, of course, with that freedom comes choice. And right now, you both have a very important decision to make.”

            Harrow walked towards (Y/N), and Marc tensed. He smiled at them, and (Y/N) flinched. “I know it’s been hard.” (Y/N) fought to avoid his gaze. “Being used by the gods. Pushed so far. Being so alone. But you can be alright, now.” They shook their head furiously. “You have nothing to worry about. You can let go of all the pain you feel. All the blame you feel.” He smiled kindly. “I know you think your parents’ death is your fault.” (Y/N)’s eyes widened, and they let out a sound akin to a whimper, a desperate plea for him to stop. “You asked for them to show you Egypt. You begged them to take you to the place they’d met, fallen in love, worked and learned. And then they died.” Harrow reached out and put a hand on (Y/N)’s head, and they winced back. “That’s alright.” He removed his hand and took theirs into his.

            Marc and Layla’s eyes widened as the cane began to swing back and forth. (Y/N)’s soul was being judged.

            “Stop it,” shouted Marc, taking a step forward, but the guns raised and pointed at him.

            (Y/N) was tempted to shut their eyes as the scales tattoo weighed back and forth. Unable to avert their eyes, though, (Y/N) watched as it settled. Their eyes widened. The scales were green. Their soul had been deemed worthy.

            Harrow smiled. “I knew I had a good feeling about you.” He took back his cane and gazed at (Y/N). They reluctantly looked up at him. “Now the choice lies before you. You have been deemed worthy. Ammit wants you on her side. You can help relieve the pain of so many. You can have a purpose.”

            (Y/N) stared at him, that word pulling at them, twisted around their heart and lungs. Their eyes flicked to Marc, staring at them with such worry that they felt their heart stir despite the pressure on it. (Y/N) looked back at Harrow evenly.

            “I will never join you or Ammit,” said (Y/N), the words as honest as could be.

            Harrow sighed. “I’m disappointed. Nonetheless, I’m afraid I can’t let you and live freely just yet.” He smiled. “We need the ritual to release Ammit.”

            (Y/N) froze, and their eyes widened. Long ago, Ma’at had taught them different rituals, bits of ancient magic that might one day be needed. One was to release the gods from ushabtis. (Y/N) hadn’t understood the significance then, nor had they questioned why Ma’at wanted them to learn it, but now that Ma’at was imprisoned, (Y/N) understood. Ma’at had known her actions in the mortal world could get her imprisoned. She had made sure the Avatar she had basically raised would be able to come and free her.

            Unfortunately, now, that meant (Y/N) could also free Ammit.

            “Leave them alone,” said Marc forcefully.

            Harrow turned to him with a smile. “After I bring Ammit to this world and allow her to create a better one, (Y/N) can live a life free of danger and worry. I just need them for a little while longer.” Harrow gestured to them. “And you could be a part of that world, too. You just need to do the right thing.”

            Marc looked at (Y/N) and then at all the armed men. He knew how to answer. He grabbed the gun of one man and dragged him closer. The man stumbled, and Marc slammed the axe onto his arm before he could shoot. He slashed at the next closest man, and then he threw the axe at Harrow.

            One of his guards stepped it front and took the blow, loyal until death. The man fell, and Harrow pulled something from the man’s belt as the guard fell. Harrow looked evenly at Marc, raised the pistol, and shot.

            Bang!

            (Y/N) screamed as Marc stumbled back, blood pooling on his white shirt.

            “Marc!” they cried, trying to pull away from the guard. “No! Marc, Steven!” They screamed for both desperately, tears burning at their eyes.

            Harrow stepped up and raised the pistol again.

            “Please, please, please, no!” shouted (Y/N).

            Bang!

            Behind the column, Layla covered her mouth as tears spilled down her cheeks. (Y/N) let out another agonized scream. The second wound bled instantly, and Marc fell back. He collapsed off the dais of the sarcophagus and landed in the pool of water.

            “I can’t save anyone who won’t save themselves,” said Harrow, daring enough to be saddened.

            (Y/N) let out a sob as Marc’s body lay in the water, unmoving. He was gone. Steven was gone. The tiny bit of good and warmth and connection (Y/N) had gathered in their life had been ripped away once again.

            (Y/N) was alone.

Taglist:

@jaytheaceenby

@severussimp

@dmitrytherat

@slytherinroyalty16

@grippleback-galaxy

@alexpangender

@thewittyfanficreader

@aew-kun-age-regression

@oscarissac2099

@amberforest08

@kyalov

@yyourmotherr

@im-making-an-effort

@the-toskaverse

@wra-1-th

[emmedoesntdomath]

harley, facedown on the table: I’m so stupid 

tony, laughing at him: yes, yes you are-

peter, from across the room: no 

harley:

tony:

harley, sitting up and clearing his throat: you know, I suddenly feel better. the world is such a beautiful place. I’m doing great, actually. 

[indominusavenger]

Headcanon (but feel free to use as a prompt): When Peter goes on the inevitable Stark Industries field trip, he gets so flustered when Mr. Stark finds him and his tour group that he activates another previously unknown spider power and literally turns invisible.

[un-pearable]

ninjago is everything. it’s anime. it’s a comic book. it’s star wars. it’s fantasy. it’s atla. it’s a superhero story. it’s a ghost story haunted by a morality system so deterministic it can’t be escaped even in death. it’s also got literal ghosts. it’s got enough worldbuilding to fill entire books but also a timeline so broken it’s retconned its own most important scenes out of existence. gravity is a manipulatable element. so is the concept of shape. sentient androids exist alongside sapient snakes and skeletons and genies and dragons and everything. it’s got a multiverse that carries the corpses of the shows it’s outlasted. it’s terrible. it’s beautiful. it’s been in continuous production for over a decade. it’s the most frustrating experience of my life. it’s so, so much fun.

[trashsfanficgarden]

everything come full circle

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

Arrow 3x1 | The Rookie 5x10

[captain-coven]

i miss the guardians of the galaxy.

[urdepressedslut]

You’re Mine, Sunshine ❝part four❞

♡ Pairing: Grumpy!Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: You don’t know what to think of Bucky after he took you to bed last night. Bucky can’t continue to keep the stalking situation hidden from you. Something is found on your doorstep.

♡ Warnings: talk of parent death, light angst, fluff, stalking, hints to death threats

Part 5

Trope ⇢ Grumpy x Sunshine | Mob!Au Bodyguard!Au

Despite falling asleep way earlier then you had meant to last night, you still felt exhausted. Mentally, physically— everything.

You had hoped to wake up, with all the events from yesterday being a dream. But unfortunately, you couldn’t escape the heartbreak.

Your hand itched for your phone, wanting to call your Father— to apologize. Pathetic, I know. You didn’t mean to stress him out, if that’s what you did. You didn’t mean to cause any problems, you were simply trying to spend time with him. As harmless as the act seemed, apparently it was an issue.

You were alone.

The thought brought images of your Mother to the surface, which for the most part were happy. It was the longing to have her hold you that brought on the wave of tears. You missed her so much. Her passing was so sudden— so out of nowhere. You’d give anything to see her one more time, to say goodbye this time.

“Morning Mom… I miss you.” You whispered to the ceiling, a part of you waiting for an answer you knew would never come.

You remembered the nights that you wailed to your walls, crying to the ceilings— in your desperate attempts to talk to your Mother. Even after some time, the pain didn’t fade. You knew it never would.

Although she wasn’t physically here, you hoped everyday that she was watching over you.

Your head pounded slightly from crying last night— into this morning. You quickly decided to hop into the shower, hoping that the warm water would relax your muscles, calm your racing thoughts.

Today was a good day, you would make sure of that.

~

After showering, you already felt better. You felt clean— almost as if the shower had physically washed away the negativity. Well, you hoped it did just that.

Throwing on some shorts and a t-shirt, you headed downstairs. Already brainstorming ideas for breakfast, wondering what Bucky likes?

James. Where to even start.

You figured out pretty soon after meeting him that he was reserved. Kept to himself, would rather sit in the corner of the room while everyone else talked.

You giggled to yourself, thinking of him like a bear. He was a big burley man— like a bear. He could eat an entire fridge— like a bear. He was a total grump… but with that you could see the fuzzy side of him locked away— like a bear. Well, kinda.

You only noticed his fuzzy side from last night, helping you to bed— which was a little blurry amongst you being exhausted. But overall, you could tell he was being gentle with you. He could’ve easily just thrown you on the bed and called it a night, but he didn’t. He made sure you were okay— comfy.

The thought of him caring about you, even in the slightest— had your heart beating rapidly. Your stomach fluttering with sudden nerves.

Before you could finish your thought, you bumped right into a slick chest. Wait— slick?

Stepping back, your mouth hung open. Your eyes betraying you as they scanned up and down the view in front of you.

Bucky had just ended a workout it seemed, and was standing in front of you with his shirt off— exposing his thick, toned muscles. His body shined with sweat, and you could hear his slight heavy breathing.

All of a sudden you were just barely closing your legs together tight. You were only human— and the sight of him like this had your brain short circuiting.

“Sorry (Y/n).” He apologized, his voice breathy.

You took a deep breath, giving him a smile, but you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks— and you just knew you were red in the face. You looked down, pretending that the floor was suddenly interesting.

“Oh it’s f-fine!” You rushed out, stumbling over your word’s suddenly. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

What was wrong with you? You see him shirtless once and suddenly you are a cat in heat— control yourself!

Bucky on the other hand noticed your colored cheeks, smirking to himself at your nervous behavior. He realized he was shirtless, but he didn’t think you’d have much of a reaction.

You snuck another look at his glowing chest, your eyes then noticing the dark metal on his left arm. You furrowed your brows in curiosity, and instinctively leaned closer to investigate.

Bucky watched your eyes lock on his arm, and he couldn’t push down the discomfort the gesture brought. It wasn’t you— no. It was the reminder that he was different, and that no matter what— people would always view him differently.

You glanced up for a second, catching the discomfort in his eyes briefly. You cleared your throat and straightened back up.

“Sorry— I didn’t mean to stare like that! I’ve just never seen something so cool.” You admitted, scratching the back of your neck.

Bucky waved it off, like it was no big deal— because it really wasn’t. For some reason he didn’t mind your curiosity.

“Don’t worry about it.” He brushed it off.

You nodded your head in understanding, but he could tell you had many questions.

“Go ahead.” He rolled his eyes, throwing his towel over his shoulder.

Your eyes sparkled and you focused back on his arm.

“Can you feel things with it?” You asked, knowing it was a dumb question— but with how high tech the arm seemed… you were genuinely curious.

“No, it’s like any prosthetic— just a metal one.” He told you, holding his arm out so you could see it better.

“Since it’s metal— is it heavy?”

“Surprisingly no.” He answered, looking down at his own arm— inspecting the gold designs.

He realized then, he never really took much time to investigate his own arm. He was shocked to notice even tinier details amongst the gold streaks.

“If you walked by a fridge— would the magnets stick onto your arm?” You asked and Bucky squinted his eyes, giving you the look.

“I don’t know— but we aren’t going to test that theory.” He huffed annoyed, although it was hard to keep the act up when he heard your light laughter float through the air.

You were holding a palm over your mouth, in attempt to quiet the giggles— but the tune leaked through the cracks of your fingers. The sweet song dancing around him.

“Sorry, sorry. That was mean! I just wanted to know.” You giggled.

Before you could think about your next move, you stepped forward and held his metal hand in yours— looking closely at the metal.

Bucky knew he couldn’t feel things with his metal prosthetic, so why was he suddenly getting this phantom tingling where his fingers should be.

“So cool.” You whispered to yourself.

Bucky fought down the smile at your reaction to something so simple. Well, simple to him.

He cleared his throat and started to pull his hand away, despite him not really wanting to.

You released it quickly, scratching the back of your neck again in embarrassment. By now, your cheeks were dusted a dark pink.

“Oh… um anyway— I was actually looking for you, trying to decide what to make for breakfast? Any ideas?” You asked him.

Bucky waved you off again.

“That’s not necessary, I had…” He only had a single cup of coffee this morning. “I had something already.”

You nodded in understanding, but felt disappointed that you weren’t going to be able to make him something. Providing him with food made you feel needed— even if it was breakfast here and there.

“Oh okay. I guess I’ll just make something for myself then. I was thinking later I could go shopping for some things, wanted to do some baking!” You announced happily.

Meanwhile, Bucky tensed up. Remembering Pierces words of advice to keep you home as much as possible. The threat to your life still looming over your head.

He’d come up with something— something to distract you from going out. Although, the sensible side of him wanted to tell you the truth. Out of everyone— you deserved to know.

“Uh, (Y/n)?” He started, not sure if he should tell you or not.

You faced him, waiting patiently with a smile.

He felt so guilty all of sudden, keeping something like that from you. But he couldn’t go against Pierce’s wishes. He was your Father— despite being an odd one that is.

“Uh… Maybe we could get to know each other better later?” It was the only thing he could think of in the moment, something that would keep you from going out.

Again, he felt the guilt seeping throughout him when he saw your eyes widen in pure joy.

“Yeah of course! I wou— that would be great!” You rushed out, completely forgetting about baking.

You wanted to unlock all his secrets, not because you wanted to pry— no. It was because he was so mysterious, his presence alone made you want to know more about him. You could also see that he was a good man, and you already trusted him. Why wouldn’t you want to know more? That was the only reason— yeah.

You sent him another smile, one that had the corner of your eyes crinkling— and you headed towards the kitchen. He couldn’t ignore the way you were almost skipping.

Yeah— he felt like shit.

~

You had made and eaten breakfast, heading towards the library first thing after.

You had previously been reading lots of Thrillers— the suspense always being one of your favorites. The way you could flip the page, on the edge of your seat— anxiously awaiting what was next. There were so many books where the pages seem slightly crumpled, from the many times you were so eager reading— you squeezed the pages from excitement.

Although, things started to shift since a couple days ago. I guess, things started to shift since Bucky became your bodyguard.

It wasn’t an immediate shift— no. It was a slow change, as before— there was no tension in the air. Well, of course because you were by yourself. Now, the air seemed thick— growing thicker as each day passed. But it wasn’t necessarily an uncomfortable tension, rather one the you felt drawn to.

The change had you ditching your suspense filled books— and replacing them with romance instead.

It wasn’t a genre you shied away from. In fact, you had read quite a selection of them— yet none had stuck with you.

Something in the air brought you to the romance section of the library, and you were shocked to find yourself glued to your spot— your eyes searching the rows of books.

~

Bucky was checking the windows of the house when he heard the sound of faint knocking coming from the front door.

He furrowed his brows, wanting to believe that is was Steve stopping by again. But he couldn’t keep the fearful thought away— that it might be your stalker. The perimeter was guarded, making it impossible for someone unknown to approach the house. But this stalker seemed to of gotten past them already, leaving pictures and notes scattered.

His hands clenched into fists, his shoulder tense. This was another reason why he wanted you to be aware of your stalker— so you could be prepared. He wanted you to know a backup plan, know a place to hide while he took care of them. Right now, you were clueless about the threat towards you. It only caused him to be more stressed, needing to talk with Pierce immediately.

He walked to the door, glancing through the frosted glass— he didn’t see any silhouettes of anyone. Giving one last look, he opened the door and was relived to find the front porch empty.

Although, the relief was short lived. As he looked down near the mat— he found a box. It was white with red ribbon tied around it.

He felt a presence suddenly and glanced up in alert, but relaxed instantly when he saw Steve approaching.

“Hey Buck, you alright?” Steve asked, walking up the front steps.

Bucky ignored Steve’s perfect timing and assumed he had men watching the front door at all times— but if that was the case… then why hadn’t they seen who dropped this off?

“Yeah— just found this.” He pointed to the box, which Steve immediately got triggered by.

“Where did tha— Buck. When did this get here?” Steve asked, grabbing his walkie.

“Just now— I heard a knock and when I opened the door there was no one here. Just this box.” He explained, looking at the box— curious.

“Okay. I’m going to take this and get it off her property— in case it’s a bomb.” Steve told him, which had Bucky widening his eyes in concern.

“Jesus— okay. Be careful.” Bucky huffed, feeling more stressed.

Steve put his walkie away, giving Bucky a nod before grabbing the box carefully, walking it away from the house in a haste.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, walking back in the house and securing all the locks again. A part of him wanted to know what was in the box— but another part of him was scared to find out what was inside.

His mind was cruel and had him imagining the most vile things, he hoped that whatever was inside— wasn’t what he was thinking.

If you want to be added to the taglist

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[slime-sandwhich-nom]

Jschlatt: bro I missed you so much!! How are you :3

Charlie: YOU STILL OWN ME 25 BUCKS. WHERE ARE THEY.

[glitchedcosmos]

I think SCU shadow should project the trope of “ I have every reason to hate the world and watch it burn, I don’t choose to hate, the world has given me no other option, I rage because the world deserves it” . While sonic carries out the trope of “ I will choose to love, the world is full of choices, and results we can’t always control, and every time, I will choose to love.” I think they should be so deeply committed to their views on the world , right up until they meet, and suddenly their views on the world are thrown out of whack, they’re scared , they’re confused, they’re trying to carry out their missions and heroic duties while struggling to understand the other, they can’t instantly comprehend how the others view has stayed the way it is. And that level of fear and frustration gets stronger every time they interact, or battle. And they remain in that trope for most of the movie, slowly getting to the point where they either understand the others point of view, or they just give up on trying to make the other understand at all.

[riacte]

watched too many compilations of those anime “childhood best friends always lose to the characters who fall from the sky and appear out of nowhere to befriend the mc”, and not only am i feeling sad about how renskall got steamrolled by rendoc, i am also feeling sad about fuckass spopera. anyways remember our first warrior renskall island 💪 or the renskall horse 💪 or the renskall podcast 🔥

[martianbugsbunny]

Sam accidentally confessing to Bucky bc whenever they're in the same room he unconsciously taps out the Morse code for "I love you"