#I started crying I’m so dame tired

[neptunes-saddest-alien]

Crying because you’re in so much pain and only getting a ear splitting , eyeball stabbing headache in return , and the pain just gets worse.

[glorified-red]

Sometimes u just need Damian to hold u while u cry y'know¿??

I feel this with every fiber of my being, you have no idea.

Actions Speak a Thousand Words

summary: Damian was always a man of little words, but in moments like these, he wished he could do better to comfort you. word count: 1,280~ warnings: self-doubt, self-hatred, Damian sucks at emotions but he's tRyiNg. Light hurt/comfort In honor of summer classes sucking ASS and Damian's cameo in the Pride comic, here's this, because I feel like everyones a little bit tired right now.

You felt a shoulder bump into yours, effectively washing away all your thoughts. You hummed in question, your gaze barely lifting from where it was stuck. 

“You’ve been staring at the wall for long enough that I’ve begun to think it’s personally wronged you.” 

You hummed into the fingers that nestled against your chin, it was subtle pressure but it was enough to keep you from floating away. The hum almost died in your throat, having gotten caught in the heat that taunted you. 

When you didn’t laugh or even budge, Damian grew worried. He attempted to—as you taught him—lighten the mood once more. 

“I could fight the wall for you. It seems as though you’re mortal enemies.” 

You responded that time, but the attempt at banter fell short when your voice was nothing but a whisper. “We’re in the middle of a staring contest, that’d defeat the point.” 

It was Damian’s turn to hum, he tried to sound like he was on board with the idea but the tail end of the noise lifted into confusion. He slipped onto the seat next to you. 

“Are you at least winning?” His gaze attempted to reach yours. Green eyes were at the edge of your vision if you just turned your head to look at him. He felt his eyebrows crease together when your eyes fell from the wall and onto the desk in front of you. 

“I don’t think so,” you whispered, much softer than the last time you spoke. If Damian wasn’t inches away, the wobbles in your voice would have faded into nothing, to never be heard. The lips behind shaky fingers struggled to suck in a breath. 

Damian sifted ever closer to you until he could feel your silhouette against his. He hesitated, if not for a moment. He wasn’t good at this, he was trying to be—god he was—but it didn’t stop the lump in his throat from forming every time he saw you in hardship. 

He started with the first step: “Are you okay?” 

That sentence alone felt like he had said it wrong. He could mimic the exact inflections as everyone, down to the last breath, and he would still feel so out of place saying it. He hated the sound of his own hesitance—why couldn’t he be good at this, just once? He’d watched for years as his oldest brother danced through emotions so effortlessly, even his father had grown in an aspect Damian would never admit he was jealous of. He’d seen it—experienced it himself—yet he could never navigate this as easily as the others. 

You told him he was doing wonderful every time. You noticed his efforts and smiled at his mistakes, told him he was human and that it was okay. But damn, did Damian want to be better for you. You taught him what it was like to feel alive. He wanted to return that feeling tenfold until your body buzzed with his love for you. 

He just didn’t know how. 

The silence between you too lingered for longer than he liked. Every fiber of his being itched to fix the problem, to make sure whatever was making you feel this lost was squandered. But he quieted that part of him; he told himself “later.” Right now, that wouldn’t help you. That wouldn’t help you process this or feel whatever you were feeling right now. He had to give you time. 

So he waited, even as the milliseconds stretched into seconds. He let your brain filter through his question and piece together a response. 

“I’m just tired, Dames.” 

He picked at his pants, feeling the seams roll under his fingers. 

“Do you want to take a nap?” died in his throat. 

“We could cuddle?” slipped from his tongue. 

“Maybe take a break?” seemed impossible to say. 

Those are solutions, they wouldn’t help right now. 

“From?” he settled on. The green from his eyes never left your face for a moment. He was sure you could feel it, the weight of his gaze. It slid from your temples down your nose and across your jaw, tracing each line over and over again so he could see when they shifted. He could analyze your face for hours, it’s how he knew the twitch between your eyebrows was a sign you were trying to form the words on your tongue. 

He knew you. And he knew you wanted to smack a smile on your face and move on, to laugh it off and apologize for everything and nothing all at once. He often did the same, just with a different way of shrugging off emotions. He hid behind a stone wall where you hid behind a mirror. 

It was funny really, how easily you could penetrate his walls and how easily he could see through a two-way. 

“Everything.” Your eyes finally met his and the feeling of his heart sinking wasn’t one he could ever get used to. The sight of tears forming constellations on your lashes was enough for his heart to lurch. He felt it deep in his ribcage and up into his throat. 

He struggled on his next word. The words had to claw their way out of his mouth, enemies of hesitance and anxiety blocking their path. He wanted to tell you everything would be okay; he wanted to say it would get better; he wanted to say something that would help—anything. 

But Damian was never a man of many words, and oh, did he hate himself for it. 

No matter how many times he was told his strengths, he could only ever see the weaknesses, the imperfections, and the traits of him that could be traced back to his grandfather. Even after so long of trying to be better, it was useless. 

He was trying to be someone he wasn’t. 

So he let the words die. He let the resonance turn into a steady breath and did what he was good at: he held you. His arms wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you into his chest. You all but fell into his embrace, your head finding its way under his chin out of habit. It felt natural here, with you in his arms. Damian felt like he could breathe easier as if all his insecurities washed away. 

He hoped you felt the same. 

“I'm so tired,” you sobbed. Fingers clung to his shirt and pulled on the fabric but he stayed steady. He was, and always would be, your rock: the steady force in your life while all else seemed to swirl into chaos. He would always be there for you, despite everything. He was an immovable force and he slowly took pride in that fact. 

His lips pressed into the top of your head, the words hidden behind those lips ached to break through. Instead, he wrote the words into your body and kissed them into your skin in hopes the message was received all the same. 

The pads of his fingers squeezed consonants into your shoulders and slid vowels down your back and up again. His thighs carried the weight of yours and promised strength in return. His chest breathed in your sorrows and pressed affirmations into your heart. 

“I’m here.” 

It was short—that much Damian knew. But it was all he had to say. Every single word trapped in his chest was released in two simple syllables. There was nothing else. It was so simple, yet he overlooked it everytime. 

He could feel your body leaning into his, the way your hands had to convince themselves he was there. He knew you. And he knew this was enough. 

He would always be enough. 

As he was.

Taglist ♡

@anothertimdrakestan

@cherry-dropp

@missredrobin

[berrypass-de-murdler]

2 - 55 The Body Buried Beneath the Beans

It's a really bad day. My family and I are not feeling all right.

I've made a goal to keep writing and keep posting, even when things go horrible, so I'm still going to post the next episode. I hope everyone is doing okay.

DON'T READ THE EPISODES WITHOUT READING THE BOOKS!!

Irratino goes to Coffee’s Shop. Not to get a coffee, oh no no no. He’s here because he remembers that time Logico said this place was paranormal. He remembers everything Logico says… 

Aside from the body on the floor, bloodied and crunched, the shop is amazingly peaceful. Dame Obsidian, Mayor Honey, and BOOKIE are all there, but they’re just enjoying their beverages and sitting in the sunlight. Irratino takes a deep breath and smells the brewing beans. The whole place smells just like Logico. He wishes he could-!!!

COFFEE: Inspector Irratino? What are you doing here by yourself?

Tino twinges. It almost, ALMOST hurts a little bit that he is no longer a separate entity from Logico to the community. 

IRRATINO: Logico… is missing. COFFEE: Oh… oh. Is he… alright? IRRATINO: I think so… I’m trying to find him, and find out what happened. COFFEE: …If it’s not too much to ask… do you think you could help with this murder as well? 

Dame Obsidian is writing a new book. It will probably be a plagiarized version of Logico’s next book, which he hasn’t written yet, because it’s actively taking place. Mayor Honey is abnormally peaceful, enjoying his Christmas-flavored latte. 

HONEY: My, oh my. Gainsboro, are you reading your own book again?

Bookie slaps it shut and huffs outside, embarrassed. Wait a minute! He said he hated the outdoors, it made him CRANKY.

IRRATINO: Bookie- I-I mean Gainsboro, what are you doing outside? GAINSBORO: Reading my own book, genius. What does it LOOK LIKE I’M DOING!! IRRATINO: Alright, alright, calm down. I was just asking. Do you- GAINSBORO: NO I don’t know where Logico is! I don’t care about Logico! I DON’T CARE ABOUT LOGICO NO MATTER HOW MUCH HE SAYS I DO!!

The beby is getting quite hysterical. Irratino gives him a hug.

GAINSBORO: Stop giving a HUG! [cries]

Irratino struggles not to cry himself. This world seems so fucked-up without Logico, even when nothing is going on!

IRRATINO: Come on, let’s go back inside, I’ll get you a coffee.

When they come back, Coffee himself now looks depressed.

IRRATINO: Are you alright? COFFEE: Oh! Me! Oh! Of course. I’m just so tired. So very tired… I require an espresso. 

He pours himself four times the recommended amount.

IRRATINO: Um-

Coffee drinks it violently through a straw and performs an ungainly belch, irritating everyone in the shop. There’s a terrible gurgling sound.

COFFEE: Oh dear. I shouldn’t have done that.

He runs to the bathroom at inhuman speed, screams, and never comes back out.

Irratino still can’t find any clues to Logico’s disappearance, and - oh right, there was a daily murder too.

OBSIDIAN: Would you believe me if I said I did it because I had an important message for you? IRRATINO: Oh… come on! I can’t believe you! You’re Dame Obsidian! You’re the queen of lying!

She continues to stare.

IRRATINO: F…Fine…

She walks to him and speaks quietly.

OBSIDIAN: Logico is safe… for now.

She puts a hand on his shoulder. Irratino looks at her, and just starts bawling…

IRRATINO: I want him to be right here!

When he catches his breath, Obsidian is gone. She always disappears at the most dramatic moment.

Irratino chugs down one more cup to drown his sorrows, staring deep into the grounds at the bottom. But amazingly, they form a message, telling him just where to go next.

The end!

The power of Goat Lord compels you!

See you next time murdlers

[underworldobsessed]

WIP Wednesday

Okay, I'm kinda excited to do this, as it's definitely been a while since I've shared glimpses of my WIPS. Thank you @optiwashere for tagging me! I'm gonna tag @beetlesacquired, @the-blue-quetzalcoatl and @disneydreamlights but don't feel pressured if you want to do it!

Here we go! I'm gonna share four excerpts from my fics since I've got a lot of WIPs right now. I will note, most of them don't have names yet. I usually save that bit for last.

WIP 1 - Aylin and Isobel Meet Kurik. It's exactly as it sounds, it's the moment Aylin and Isobel meet little Kurik. I've been wanting to write more of these two forever and I figured this was the perfect excuse to do so.

“I haven’t heard from Alfira yet,” Nemeia mumbled. “I’m sure she’s going to bring Kurik a drum or a training lute.”  “I will lose my mind if she did that.” Shadowheart went to clean off her hands, disappearing into their kitchen. “None of us need a child with a drum.”  The three of them laughed, but that laughter died out when there was a knock at the door.   “We’re not expecting anyone…are we?” Shadowheart called over to them. Nemeia sat up, eyes narrowing just a bit. No, they weren’t expecting anyone, not that they could recall anyway. Magic sparked at their fingertips as they got up from their couch, knowing that they would forgo this peaceful moment if it meant protecting their family.  They inched towards the door, readying an eldritch blast, when they heard the voices, loud despite being behind the wood.  “Ally mine! It is Dame Aylin and darling Isobel! We have brought gifts for your new addition!” The voice rang out and Nemeia tried to relax, laughing.  “It’s Aylin and Isobel!” They yelled back “They’re here to meet Kurik!”  “I’ll go grab him from his room!” Karlach yelled back, as Shadowheart joined Nemeia at the door to open it. 

WIP 2 - Shadowheart/Nocturne Fic. This will be one of my first attempts writing Shadowheart/Nocturne. It's two parts, both taking place before the game. The first, where this excerpt is from, is from when Shadowheart and Nocturne are younger, after another instance of Shadowheart's memory being wiped.

“No! I don’t, and I’m so sick of not remembering!” Pain flared from the wound, but despite the agony, Shadowheart ignored it. “I know all will be returned and we will be rewarded in due time but it feels like the Mother Superior wants nothing more than to see me forget every part of who I am and what I’m like to be molded into whatever she wants me to be.”  “Shadowheart, you don’t mean that.” Nocturne sounded like she was trying to reason with her, but Shadowheart shook her head. How could she know what she meant? Nocturne almost never went into the Chamber of Loss. Perhaps she did, and Shadowheart couldn’t remember…  No, why would Nocturne face the Mirror to forget everything. She was good in the Mother Superior’s eyes, Shadowheart was a blight, a mess to be corrected.  “I’m tired of forgetting things, Nocturne. I’m tired of having massive pieces of my memories just lost to the void.” Tears burned Shadowheart’s eyes but she refused to cry. What good would crying do?  She wasn’t the kind of person to cry. Or was she? She couldn’t even remember that information about herself.  She saw Nocturne shift closer to her out of the corner of her eye and felt her arm wrap around her. When was the last time Shadowheart had felt a gentle touch like that?

WIP 3 - Walking on the Road Alone. So this one is just starting out in terms of writing it. I briefly mentioned this where Kurik goes back in time after something disrupts the past and he has to make sure everything goes as it should. I've been working on an outline for it, but I'm too excited so I'm also writing the first chapter at the same time. (Also a note, Odassa is draconic for parent, which is what Nemeia is called by Kurik)

Everything was blood and meat. Bodies littered the ground around him, and at first they all seemed like a mess of flesh and gore. It wasn’t the first time Kurik’s dreams had reflected the darkest parts of him, nor, he assumed, would it be the last. But his parents had worked with him. He took a few deep breaths, trying to will the images away as he closed his eyes, but when he opened his eyes, it was still there. And the details started to clear up.  His Mum, Mama, and Odassa were laying at the top of the pile of corpses, and as he looked he saw his aunts and uncles. His entire family lay bloodied and broken at his feet.

WIP 4 - Sprained Ankle, Huh?. So this one was a fun one. I saw a post about dialogue gotten where Shadowheart admits to feigning a sprained ankle with Karlach so she would carry her. I couldn't resist writing this too.

“I thought you were supposed to be resting in bed,” Shadowheart adjusted the way she was sitting on the couch so they could sit behind her, which they did. Honestly, anything to get them off their feet with their body feeling as heavy as it was.  “I was worried I’d have to perform some daring rescue for the two of you.” Nemeia ran their fingers through Shadowheart’s hair, which she had taken to wearing down more and more. “But you don’t seem too injured, Shadowheart.”  “I sprained my ankle,” Shadowheart’s voice took on a very odd tone and Nemeia smirked. They knew that tone well.  “Uh-huh,” They started to let their hands drift a little, out of her hair and down her sides. “And I know you haven’t fantasized about our darling Karlach carrying you to safety, right? Not like that wasn’t the first thing you said when we met her?”  “Gods, I hate your memory for these things.” Shadowheart’s cheeks turned red and Nemeia laughed, kissing her cheek. “I actually tripped but… the idea crossed my mind when she came up to check on me." 

[imaginedreamwrite]

Criminal: Part 9

Becca watched you suspiciously; her blue eyes crinkled at the corners as she took in the image of you with this barely passable contrived smile on your face that didn’t dare meet your eyes.

You were tired, and you were tired of crying in the spare room in her apartment over that idiot and his ‘brilliant’ ideas.

You loved James Buchanan Barnes, and you’d loved him since you were 10. You loved him for years, and for years you’d kept it hidden until you had to face your feelings when he was drafted. When the reality of Bucky having to go to war was upon you, you had to deal with the way you felt about him.

Internally anyway. Externally, you kept your cool and acted like you didn’t give two shits about him.

As if anyone would believe you.

As if Becca, who watched you pray almost nightly for the safe return of Bucky, would believe you.

“We’ve had Italian coffee,” Becca mentioned, pulling you from the cozy café you’d stopped in before continuing on your shopping trip, “now let’s go to that boutique on 3rd. Let’s get you a knockout dress for when you see Bucky again.”

“I’m not seeing him again. I hate your brother.” You claimed while having red-rimmed eyes.

“Y/N,” Becca groaned, “you and Bucky are two idiots in love.”

“He hurt me, Becca-“

“He didn’t mean to,” she walked with you down the street toward the boutiques, her arm hooked with yours, “that idiot brother of mine is so head over heels in love with you, it’s almost sickening.”

“He is an idiot.” You scoffed and wiped a few tears with your free hand.

“Yes, he is an idiot. But you should know he didn’t mean to hurt you. He thought…well he thought he could spoil you with gifts you would never get yourself.” Becca nudged you with her hip.

“He used to do that with every dame he ran with-“

“Did you even look in the boxes? Or did you throw them without peeking in?” She asked even though she didn’t have to.

“Becca-“

“I figured you didn’t. So let me give you some insight into what he had gifted you,” she cleared her throat as you walked, “that green dress you saw at Christmas before Bucky left for the war. We were going Christmas present shopping and drug you and Steve along with us. We passed by this little boutique, and you saw this dress-“

“I remember it, Becca.”

“Bucky bought it. He bought it the next day, and he would give it to you, but he never got the chance. He had been drafted, and it sat in a box in my parent’s home since.” Becca watched you, she watched your eyebrows furrow and your lips pursed.

“He got you jewelry that was made to look like the pieces your mother had.” Becca stopped walking and turned toward you; each item she spoke of was personalized to you; it was made for you.

“The perfume…one was the same kind your mother had, and the other was from a fancy perfumer from the south of France.”

“You got it as a birthday gift, but you didn’t like it.”

“Yeah, but you did.”

Becca heard you sigh and then she saw you bite your bottom lip. You were still angry, you were still hurt, and she didn’t want to take away from you. She didn’t want to minimize the hurt you felt because she could understand it. She could empathize with you because she knew how you felt. She knew how long you’d loved Buck, and she knew how long you’d seen him treat his ex-dames like he had treated you.

“He can stew in it.” You started walking with her again, that innate stubbornness settling in again. “He didn’t need to be such a prick.”

“I know-“ Becca stopped walking and clenched your hand when you turned the corner and came to a dead stop as a group of men were waiting for you.

You hadn’t recognized any of them, but Becca had and judging from the face she made, it wasn’t a pleasant acquaintance. She had backed up with you angled behind her.

“You’re on the wrong side of the city,” Becca’s attention moved from the leader of their group to the men behind him, “what are you doing here?”

“Maybe Barnes invited me-“

“He didn’t. He tolerates you, but he doesn’t care to be in your presence any more than necessary.” Becca took another step back, and you with her.

“Hurts to think Barnes thinks so little of me,” he had stepped aside and cast his dark eyes upon you, his lips upturned in a smirk, “haven’t met yet, dame. Name’s Thomas Johnson; I own the other half of the city.”

You grit your teeth and ground your kitten heels into the cement while he was watching you. You didn’t need to know him, to know anything about him, to pick up on how uncomfortable you felt. If Bucky could destroy and annihilate anyone in his path for the sake of keeping order in his half of the city, then this man could seek and kill for the pleasure of it.

You felt sick to your stomach the longer he was watching you, the longer his eyes were on you. There was an almost instant souring to your stomach, and you found it hard to catch your breath. He was looking at you as if you were something he wanted to destroy, for the pleasure of seeing you in pieces.

The look in his eyes was evil if you ever saw it, and despite your best effort to say something, anything, you were struck speechless. How could you say something to a man who appeared to be the devil in a fine-cut suit?

“I introduced myself, doll,” his gravelly voice made you want to wince, “be a polite little bitch and tell me your name.”

“You don’t want to start this,” Becca warned, briefly glancing over her shoulder toward you.

“Start what, Rebecca? I’m having a conversation with a dame who doesn’t know her manners.” His dark eyes were on you again, and your throat became tighter with every passing second that he was looking at you. “Tell me your name, sweetheart.”

“Y/N Rogers.” You mumbled, your hands sweating when he whistled, and a quiet mix of chuckles was heard from his men.

“Captain America’s sister in the flesh.” He grinned and reached into his coat pocket for a cigar, placing it between his lips.

As he balanced it, he dug out a lighter and lit the end, the soft glow coming before the first puff. “You’re a lovely little thing, aren’t you? Where has Barnes been hiding you?”

“You don’t wanna do this,” Becca’s voice was clipped, her fingers gripping the wrapped twine box tightly in her hands, “if you cross that line-“

“If I cross the line?” He sneered, “What’s going to happen, Becca? What’s your big brother going to do? Burn the fucking city to the ground for one slut? Is Barnes going to kill me if I touch his toy?”

“For her,” Becca shuffled, keeping herself between you and them, “he’d burn the fucking world. You don’t want to do this.”

His eyes were on you; his deep and angry, nearly black irises zeroed in on you. His lips were curled, and his fingertips were stained yellow from the cigar he was smoking. There was such darkness from him, such twisted animosity.

Bucky was a prick, and he had hurt many people, you knew that, but this man…this man screwed with people for the thrill, for the fun of it.

“Heard Barnes got himself a little bird, didn’t think it was you. Usually, he goes for the…bolder women. The women who know how to suck a cock.” He tilts his head. “You know how to suck a man’s cock, Rogers? I bet you’d look real pretty on your knees-“

“I’m only warning you once more-“

“Shut the fuck up, Rebecca!” He focused his anger on her. “I ain’t afraid to put a woman in her place. Now answer me, sweetheart. Do you ever suck a man’s cock? You ever been a made woman? I like putting women in their place.”

“I’m surprised you’ve gotten so close to one. We could smell your stench from a mile away.” You finally spoke again, your backbone settling into place.

“What the hell did you say to me, you mouthy whore?” He stepped up to the curb, the rings on his hands catching the light refracted from the sun.

“I said,” you felt fear, but like your brother, you didn’t back down, “I could smell your stench from a mile away.”

“Oh, I see,” he grit his teeth, “You’re a loud bitch. Bucky’ll like that when he finally fucks the virgin out of you.”

“Tommy! Bucky will kill you!” Becca warned, pushing the two of you back toward the figurative corner you’d been placed in. “No one touches her.”

“You’re both mouthy bitches.” He cracked his knuckles. “Lucky for you, Rebecca, there’s only one bird I wanna hear sing.” He reached for your wrist and yanked you toward him.

You screamed and fought against him, kicking with every instinct you had to separate yourself from him.

“Johnson!” Rebecca screamed as she was grabbed around the waist and held back, her blue eyes burning hatred into him. Like you, she had fought until she was restrained, until her arms were pinned to her sides, and her head was yanked back by her hair.

“I think,” he grunts in your ear as he ground himself against you, “I should send Barnes a message.”

“Go to hell,” you screamed, thrashing against him with the renewed fight.

“Oh sweetheart,” he groaned in pleasure, your fight driving him further toward a place of the twisted and dark lust, “keep fighting like that, and I might have to take you home.”

“He’ll kill you! He’ll rip you apart!”

“Don’t worry, Rebecca,” you shuddered when his lips part and his tongue ran against your neck, “I won’t steal the opportunity to make Roger’s sister a whore, from Bucky. We’re just going to have a little fun.”

You angled your head and bit down on his hand as it started snaking toward your neck. You bit down hard enough to draw blood, and when he dropped you, your hands and knees scraped against the cement. You had just started to pick yourself up, to scurry away, when you were grabbed and thrown against the nearest wall, his uninjured hand wrapped tightly around your neck.

He was squeezing the life out of you; he was pressing so hard you started to see spots. And then he leaned in and inhaled your natural scent, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“I wish I could see the look on Barnes’s face when he sees my bruise around your neck,” he laughed in your ear and dropped you again, mere moments before you passed out, “give my regards to your brother, Rebecca. Tell him he’s got a fine cunt to fuck.”

Their departing footsteps were ringing in your ears as you gasped for breath, your eyes blurred by tears of pain and fear. Once they were gone, you let yourself feel everything you hadn’t while they were here.

“Y/N,” Becca came to your side, “it’s okay, honey. They’re gone.”

She wrapped her arm around your shoulders and leaned into you, giving you small comfort compared to what you needed. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay. They’re gone.”

She helped you to your feet and helped you balance. She kept herself pressed against you to stabilize you, and then she moved away from the place you had been, to the nearest shop, out of the alley you’d been forced into, that had a phone.

“I’m going to call him,” Becca explained slowly before she started moving toward the back of the shop; the shopkeeper’s eyes widened at the sight of you.

“Keep an eye on her,” she mentioned to the owner, earning a nod in return before she was out of your sight.

“You’re alright, miss,” the shopkeeper attempted to comfort you, “your friend will be right back.”

You were scared. You were more frightened than you ever thought or wanted to be, and you wanted Bucky.

[mystic-sky]

|✨Part 1✨| |✨Part 2 ✨| of the Friends with Benefits Series.

Your relationship with Suguru started off somewhat unexpectedly. A new semester romance, however it was unwanted after dealing with Satoru Gojo just last year. You tried not to blame yourself for the situation unraveling the way it did. You did your best to make Satoru comfortable with you- at least you thought you did.

He cut you off as soon as you made your feelings apparent. You wondered if he somehow did it for your own good, or maybe there was something deeper that went along with it. No matter, you remained optimistic. You were young, and bound to make mistakes. This was just a story to tell your children about in the future if you ever felt it was necessary.

But back to Suguru, who had wiggled his way into your life somehow. He wasn’t a random guy actually. More like a familiar face you’d seen in a few of your classes because you both were in the same major. Just so recently, he decided to talk to you.

You weren’t expecting to hit it off with him so easily. He was sort of scary looking, which led you not to engage with him in the first place. He never tried talking to you before 5 months ago. And neither did you, considering you thought he was so handsome he’d break your heart too somehow.

His arms were sleeved with tattoos that would bridge at his chest. The tattoos would sometimes peak out of his wide collared shirts if he chose to wear one that day. He had a thing for wearing these huge ear gauges that had his favorite anime on them. Though, you never noticed until you sat close enough to him to see the designs. It was a rainy day, and both of you ended up sitting beside each other in your sociology course in the back of the classroom. You were both late, having come in just after the other.

It was weird seeing him this close. He never did come late to any class you’d ever been in with him. Even if you wanted to sit with him, like Satoru, he never had any available seats beside him. He didn’t disturb you until the lecture ended, commenting on one of your anime themed mechanical pencils. That sparked your first conversation with him, and he wasn’t shy to ask you out for coffee right after.

He’s been keen on you since, and you just barely give him the time of day in the beginning. You were just cautious, after the whole Satoru situation. Suguru was fine with whatever you wanted the situation between you both to be. But you will admit, the conversations he’d keep you up with at night made it hard to not fall in love with him.

He’d take you out to dinner, study with you, and sleep with you from time to time since the sexual attraction between you was hard to deny. You think your favorite thing about messing around with Suguru was how he’d always pick your brain after sex with manga theories and better endings than the canonically debuted ones. He was a really good cook, and you often challenged him to make your favorite dishes. They were excuses to invite you over to his place, so he gladly took each one with merit. It was friends with benefits but with far much more substance to hold onto.

He never poked you about getting serious. Whatever you both had was still young at barely 5 months. He could tell you’d been going through something mostly because of how you sexed him. Sometimes you were the dominant one- you’d throw him on the bed and bounce yourself on his length until your knees were far too tired to go on. Other times, he’d steal the show from you, showing you just exactly what he was capable of.

He spread you onto the desk in his bedroom, face deep into your folds. He also loved to spoil you, like Satoru, but you did your best not to think of him when you both were together. Suguru had so much more hair to grab, considering his tongue work was so good it scared you.

“Be a good kitten and cum for me.” He said between sucks on your clit. You often couldn’t think, and that was a good thing. He numbed you in plenty of ways, he knew he had been helping you get over something. He had been doing the same thing but you could care less.

“Actually, I changed my mind.” He tore his mouth from your steaming sex, wiping his chin. You gasp as he lifts you up off the desk, holding your body without leaning against anything for support. You felt weightless, feeling his length prod at your entrance. You tried to hold back a giggle as he smiled smugly at you.

“You ready?” His eyes were sincere, asking for your consent again as he was aching to sink you onto himself.

You nod, feeling a bit nervous. “Stuff like this is about balance. Start flailing around again and I’ll drop you.” He teased. Your hands found some of his hair again, tugging on it a bit.

“Just fuck me.” You roll your eyes as he slams his length into you, making you cry out and clutch your arms around him. His large hands firmly grasp underneath your thighs, using the way your ass recoiled against his thighs to keep a steady rhythm. He’s immersed in the way your broken moans pour into his ear, fueling his stamina. He’s a stickler for teasing you the entire time, praising you for taking his length so well.

“Such a good kitten, you’re taking it so well.”

It was the third time he’d ever held you up to fuck you. After letting go of the fear of him dropping you it became incredibly easy to focus on the pleasure.

“You’re gonna cum aren’t you? Don’t worry about the carpet baby, make a mess for me.”

He knew how to mix things up the way you needed. On your rough days he’d sex you slowly, more passionately and generously. If you were happy and feeling frisky he’d fuck you accordingly. He was pretty good at reading your body just after the first few fucks you had. You hated comparing the two men, but it did happen from time to time when you were in solitude, plagued by your own self-deprecating thoughts every now and then.

It was weird how they emanated each other’s personalities in certain ways. And then you found out that they used to be good friends in high school until something happened. You never poked Suguru about it, since he’d seem to get irritated when you were around groups of friends and Satoru’s name was mentioned. You did your best to be satisfied with what you had. He was handsome, smart, and possibly wanted to be your boyfriend in due time.

But you couldn’t help but think about Satoru. Not only was your experience with him a wild one, but he was fucking everywhere. It’s always like this for you. It’s not until you’re trying to avoid someone do you begin seeing them absolutely everywhere.

You stared at Satoru over Suguru’s shoulder, poking your cheek with your tongue. The audacity he had, showing up in the cafe where you both first met while you and Suguru were on a routine study date. Well, it was a hotspot for a lot of students, so who are you to say he can’t come in here.

“I think I’m overworking myself today, we can go eat now.” Your mood change was evident to Suguru, but he couldn’t put his finger on why at first. He watched you get up and pack your things before shortly following.

As you tossed your bag over your shoulders, he took hold of one of your hands, squeezing firmly. He pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze.

“Is it something I can cheer you up from when we get back to my place?” Suguru was a bit smug about it, and also painfully intuitive about your emotions even though you’d been close for such a short time. Your cheeks went red, eyes burning holes through the floor.

“It’s nothing, really. Let’s just get out of here.” You manage to look back at him, just barely glancing at Satoru who probably had been looking in this direction. Suguru pressed another kiss to your forehead, wrapping his arm around you and leading you out the cafe. He nearly touched shoulders with Satoru and his own dame, smirking just loudly enough for him to hear.

Suguru wasn’t dumb, finally having noticed your energy change just a few moments after Satoru Gojo entered the cafe. This was your favorite place, and he hated how someone could ever ruin that for you. He felt urged to do something about it- with or without your consent. He doesn’t poke you about it until you’re in the car.

“Random question, but do you know Satoru Gojo?”

The question like a pin in your spine, making you visibly un-slouch in the drivers seat. He doesn’t look at you, feeling that would make it easier for you to talk. You take this the wrong way, and feel even more tense.

“I do, we were a thing at one point.” You manage not to stutter. You had no idea why you felt scared or touchy about the subject- you shouldn’t be. His entire vibe had changed, and he didn’t have his usual grin peaking at the corners of his lips.

“Oh,” he says simply. The longest ten seconds of silence reign throughout the vehicle. You’re anxious to turn on the radio, anything to rid the first bit of awkwardness the two of you had ever shared.

“He’s an asshole, isn’t he?” He randomly chuckles heartily, somewhat calming you.

“Yeah,” you’re exhaling properly now, “he really is.”

“We were best friends for about four years. I know him like the back of my hand. Granted, he’s probably changed a lot since high school.”

“But you’re both so-

“Different?” He chuckled. “Yeah, I know.”

“If he was an asshole then, he’s multiplied tenfold.” You roll your eyes. “You both don’t talk anymore?”

You knew they didn’t, but you took the opportunity to ask anyway.

“Nah, he’s a slimy bastard. I hope karma turns him rotten.” You’d never seen Suguru scowl before. He must really hate him, you thought. Still, what a small world; first Satoru and now his ex best friend.

“You still talk to him?” He pokes again. His tone is just barely playful. God, you changed your mind. You didn’t want to talk about this anymore.

“No, we don’t talk anymore. It ended pretty badly.” You say simply. You also decided not tell Suguru that the both of you messed around just before you started messing with him.

“Sorry about that. If we were friends sooner I’d have told you about him.” Suguru is apologizing for something you weren’t entirely ignorant about in the first place. You knew what you were getting into.

Satoru never tried to convince you the situation was anything other than what it was— until the end. The sweet things he started saying to you during those final months often echoed in your head- like he meant all of it.

The sex developed into something that it shouldn’t have. Sex that passionate should be forbidden if you aren’t already in love. And the things he said to you the last time he dropped you off didn’t make it any better. You wanted to slap his stupid, pretty face.

“I’m over it now.”

Suguru pans his gaze to watch you nonchalantly staring out the window. He knew better than to ask anymore. He was more elated that you didn’t interact with him at all. He didn’t need Satoru painting a picture about him in your head before he could first.

What sucks the most about dating people you go to school with is how often you’d see them. Satoru was fucking everywhere. The local restaurants, the library, the cafe, and he’d registered for two of your classes this semester. He didn’t speak to you at all, but he was always just there. Perhaps he’d always been around but since you’d been involved with him you were more aware of his presence.

You were standing in line in the library, attempting to return some books. He entered the space, and walked up behind you, standing on the line and giving your space. You turn your body slightly, peering up at him. You thought to leave, but just because you resented him didn’t mean you were going to cower every time you had to be around him for a while. You let out a sigh as you tip toed to peer in front of yourself; at least the line was moving.

Both of you had made it to the front, talking to separate librarians beside one another. When they both got up from their seats to head towards the back, he spoke directly to you, without actually looking at you.

“(Name), word of advice— I’d steer clear of Getou Suguru if I were you.”

Anger poured over you; you did your best to keep your voice low and eyes forward when saying this.

“That’s the first thing you say to me after almost a year? Go fuck yourself.”

He bites back a witty response, poking his cheek with his tongue. “Whatever. Find out the hard way.”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve. Why the fuck are you telling me this?” You’re whisper-shouting, considering it’s a library.

“Because,” he turns to look at you, “I care about you.”

“What a load of shit.”

Satoru Gojo doesn’t care about anyone, you learned that the hard way.

He let out a sigh. He knew he had no right, but even if he couldn’t get you back, he wanted you to know what kind of guy you were seeing. He couldn’t say anything, he knew you wouldn’t listen. Not like this anyway. Both librarians returned, and gave you back your borrowing passes. You quickly departed, refusing to give Satoru another opportunity to speak to you. His words stuck with you on the way home. You didn’t have any reason to be afraid of Suguru, right?

Two months had passed since Satoru had “warned” you about Suguru. And nothing has happened to lead you to be cautious of him. Satoru hasn’t spoken to you either.

You’re sitting in the guidance counselor’s office as it’s the end of the semester once again. You typed away on your phone, telling Suguru you’d see him for dinner in a bit before throwing your head back and shutting your eyes. The heaviest sigh left your lungs, you were thankful the semester was nearing its end. You had quite enough of studying and needed to unwind.

You feel a presence on the end of your bench, making you open one eye. You see white tresses, and you catch the scent of familiar cologne.

Satoru doesn’t look at you, but he’s quite aware that he’s sitting beside you as well. You almost scoff, only crossing your arms and legs. Noticing the undone laces of your boots, you lean forward to tie it. Your loose bag on your shoulder which unfortunately wasn’t zipped, spilled small notebooks and pencils all over the floor. Spare change rolled across the walk way along with other items.

“Fuck...” you muttered. His head snapped towards you as you let out a sigh and bent down to pick up your things. Your phone that was your on your lap hit the ground as well. You saw his hand in the corner of your eye reaching down to help.

“I got it.” You say sternly, and shamelessly picking up your things. He retracts his hand, and instead gets up to pick up the items that were further away from you, ignoring your request not to help.

He sits back beside you, handful of change and pens. He holds it up towards you quietly while you attempt to fix your bag back to the way it was. You turn to look at him for what feels like the first time in forever, blue eyes pouring into your own (eye color) ones.

“I didn’t need you to do that.” You say, taking your things. You initially thought to take your things from him without a word. He went back to staring in front of himself, waiting to be called. You shifted uncomfortably, and fidgeted with your fingernails. You forced yourself into to pay attention to the soft music playing from the back of the office until he spoke.

“How have you been?”

For some odd reason though, you wanted him to say something to you. You had a lot of things to let off your chest considering the way things ended. You thought of giving him a piece of your mind right there in front of all the staff members, but you restrained yourself.

Instead, you found yourself saying “I’m doing great.”

“That’s good.” He says nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn’t even sound sure of his own response. A few minutes of silence resumes after. You’re a bit startled when speaks again.

“I’m definitely out of line right now, but I’ve been wanting to talk to you about some things.”

“What could we possibly have to talk about?” A lot. You were bubbling over.

“There’s a lot of things, at least for me, that I’ve never really told you.” He’s looking at you now. “Can we talk somewhere quieter? Whenever you’ve got the free time, and only if you want to.”

He was offering closure to you a bit too late. Or maybe all this time you’d convinced yourself you’d moved on. You often found yourself replaying the morning he brought you home and all the things you should’ve said in that moment.

That’s not exactly moving on. Unfortunately, you also found yourself comparing him to Suguru more often then not. That’s not moving on either.

“Okay,” you said. “Later on today. Round 8pm.”

He looks thankful. Just as he spoke, your counselor called out to you to come into their office. You stand up, looking down at him.

“Cafe then?” He suggests.

“That’s fine. See you.” You shrugged. You didn’t care that much for the place. You heard him say goodbye as the door shut behind you.

You had half a mind to never speak to him ever again. Though both of you were using each other, he knowingly crossed a line, making you feel things for him in a situation where feelings weren’t supposed to be involved. And he never gave you a chance to truly address the situation. Now, almost a year later, he’s ready to speak to you on his own terms. You’d be sure to tell him you had no intentions of making amends with him. If you personally didn’t have interest in what he had to say, you wouldn’t bother gracing him with the ability to explain anything to you.

You would’ve made him suffer. He’s lucky you’re still a bit distraught about the situation. Any longer into your situation-ship with Suguru and Satoru wouldn’t even have the slightest chance at something like this.

Dinner with Suguru was transparent. He could tell something was on your mind but he didn’t pry much after his first attempt. The last time you both talked about Satoru he turned into a different person, and it didn’t sit right with you. You did your best to brush it off, assuming he was just protective over you. But Satoru’s warning in the library echoed in your subconscious more and more. Just what happened between them, and would it be okay for you to ask Suguru about it?

He wasn’t your boyfriend either, but you suppose he wanted to be? You hadn’t brought up the dating conversation in while and you probably wouldn’t until you situated the Satoru thing.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” Suguru’s holding your face, brushing your hair out of your eyes. His smile is incredibly gentle and you feel guilty for keeping this from him.

Perhaps you should hold Suguru accountable too, for being so sweet to you like this. He informed you he wouldn’t up and leave unless you wanted him to and that he’d never say anything he didn’t mean. But after dealing with trauma from past relationships, affection like this was always perceived cautiously.

“I know,” you say, feeling his lips press against your forehead again. “It’s just not easy to talk about right now.”

“That’s alright,” he assures you. “I’m here whenever you’re ready.”

His lips connect with yours while his hands slide down your back. He feels you relax a bit, and that makes him smile. How could he possibly be a bad person?

“I’ll call you when I get home, okay?”

You nod, watching him part from you and get into his car. You never did come to understand how he could afford it; a black Mercedes Benz-Coupe. You assumed that and his nice apartment were inherited wealth from his parents.

You wave at him before going into the station. Luckily he had things to attend to, and you didn’t have to bother making up anything about tonight. It was just barely any of his business, right?

You had an idea of what to expect from Satoru when you got there. You were rehearsing things you wanted to say in your head, some of them incredibly mean. You wanted to hurt his feelings too, if you had it in you. It didn’t take you long to get to the cafe, and you’d arrived early, already finding Satoru in the very back, furthest away from people. You gripped your bag strap, before sitting across from him.

“Hey, you’re early.” He says surprised, looking up at you from his phone.

“You’re the early one.” You say, not even cracking a smile.

“How are you?”

“Same as earlier. What did you want to talk about?”

He’s visibly gulping, and you’ve never seen him this nervous. He places his phone face down on the table, turning the sound off. You cross your arms.

“Right,” he lets out a heavy sigh. “Where should I start?” He attempts to gather his thoughts, rubbing his sweaty palms on his jeans.

“I’m not the kind of guy who really addresses his feelings, if you couldn’t already tell at the time we, you know... I’ve been fucked over a lot. I don’t have a lot of actual friends, and I’m constantly aware that people cling to me for my money or looks.”

He never acted like his entourages bothered him per se, but you did notice that he never bothered being around people anymore when the two of you were a thing. You prompt him to continue with your eyes.

“The only best friend I’ve ever had used me until I realized what was going on and cut him off. The first girl I ever really loved chose him instead of me shortly afterwards. Obviously, it’s not a legitimate excuse to have treated you the way that I did, but I guess what I’m saying is that I’m cautious of people and have been for a long time now.”

“But I never tried to use you,” you interjected. You felt a bit insensitive for spitting it out like that, but he really did hurt you.

“I know, and I realized that a bit too late.” He sighs. “But more importantly, I realized that I didn’t talk about or convey my feelings correctly. I know I confused you a lot, and you didn’t deserve that at all.” He tried to keep eye contact with you when he spoke, but your lion like force was pretty strong.

“And when I dropped you off— I shouldn’t have said those things to you. You were so much more than a warm body to me. You were the first real friend I’ve had in a long time. Things got so cloudy for me since we were sleeping together. I didn’t know how to address it, and it freaked me out when you told me you wanted more. I should’ve been elated, but I suppose I didn’t want my heart broken again either.”

“So basically...” He breathed out, “I’m really sorry. I’ve got some messy emotions, things I’m gradually learning to deal with. I’m not making excuses for myself. It’s just I never did talk about myself much when we were a thing, so I wanted to tell you something at least, and apologize. I hated the way I left things. I know it’s long overdue for an apology but...”

“But?”

“I still have feelings for you. I never stopped. The more time passed, the harder it made it for me to apologize and tell you how I feel. And then I noticed you were going out with... him, so I thought it was too late. But I still wanted to try, I guess.”

He looked so awkward, you almost laughed. Apologies were definitely foreign to him. You could tell he meant it, but even so, he wouldn’t be getting a relationship out of you, if that’s want he wanted.

You let out a large sigh. For some weird reason all the angry things you wanted to say wouldn’t come out. You wanted to be angry at him but you just couldn’t. And your heart was swelling at the idea of him still having feelings for you. Did he really mean that?

“We’re not together. Not yet anyway— it’s complicated.” You crossed your legs and leant back in your seat. Suguru probably would’ve been your boyfriend already if you weren’t so stuck on Satoru.

“Oh,” he said quietly. You’d never seen him look so small, it was definitely out of character for him.

“I forgive you,” you lean forward, holding your head in your hands. All this time and you still had soft spot for him.

“Really?” He’s surprised. Your friends will be too after you tell them this story.

“You want me to take it back?” You’re pinching the bridge of your nose.

He chuckles nervously. “No ma’am.”

“Are you... doing okay though?” He probes after noticing the stress in your brows.

“I can’t stay mad at you. And I want to so bad. It’d make my life simpler. Now I’m conflicted.” You drag your fingers under your eyes, before smooshing your own face, stressfully so. He thought you were cute, but he felt bad being the source of your distraught-ness.

“So I take it you still have feelings for me?” His voice is regular now, and just barely his normal cocky tone.

You won’t even look at him. “I mean...”

How do you explain to him that the only reason you’re messing with someone right now, who just so happens to be his ex-best friend, is because you were trying to forget about him in the first place?

“I get it if you don’t.” He says. “It’s been a while.”

“I do.” It’s almost instinct for you to correct him. “That’s the problem.”

“Ah, I see.” He’s rubbing the back of his neck again. You wished you could start over with a clean slate. School and dating shouldn’t be this difficult.

Satoru thought to warn you again about Suguru in that moment, but he held his tongue. He didn’t want to make it seem as if he was badmouthing him so you could favor him more, he wanted you to lean towards him naturally, if possible.

Silence reigned throughout your little booth in the cafe. The sound of rain hitting the window screen made it easy not to talk so much. It also made it hard to see a certain black, long-haired male in his Mercedes Benz, parked just across the street.

Suguru threw his cigarette out the driver’s window, continuing to watch the both of you inside. He shook his head disappointedly before starting his car.

“And that reminds me,” you say, making Satoru swallow hard and shift in his seat.

“What was that nonsense two months prior, about Geto Suguru?”

[hford0311]

He's Back

*Where the reader is also from the 1940s, and is now a part of the Avengers. Now, she has learned to deal with her displacement in time and moved on from the idea of love, especially after the death of her love, Bucky. Until, one day Steve calls for an emergency meeting where her world is turned around. Word Count: 2.2k*

Whispers were indistinctive around the Avengers Tower that you could never end up being a part of. When you made your entrances in different rooms, people would instantly stop talking, even if you were nearly silent coming in the room.

"Okay!" You exclaimed and threw a glass cup in the sink when it happened once again. "Do I need to set up a meeting, so I can be told what's being whispered around or something?" You yelled at Nat, Tony, and Bruce. They were shocked by your response. "I'm tired of this stupid silent treatment." You added, almost panting in anger. "Y/n," Bruce started to speak before the other pair in the room shot him disapproving looks. "No, tell me, Bruce. I can handle it." You stated. "Yeah, the cup can really tell that you can handle something," Tony dully remarked. "So you're going to stop everything to make sure that I do not know the stupid secret that everyone else in the tower gets to know but me. Cool, thanks, Tony," you stomped out of the room.

Steve was gone, the only person from your time, and he was the only person that you could confide in at times. You were also from the 1940s. You were friends with Steve and actually Bucky's girl up until his death in 1945. You were a nurse during the war. They shipped you off to Germany. There, you were one of the captured nurses that were forced to treat the German soldiers, and HYDRA decided that you were useful enough to keep around for decades. On and off ice for decades.

You kept messaging Steve to know when he was going to be back and where he had gone. It took hours for him for him to respond Emergency Meeting at 8. You tried knowing the content of the meeting, but he did not give you a response. You huffed and stayed put in your room until 7:55. That's when you walked into the main living area, where everyone was surrounded, including Steve. There was chatter, they obviously have not noticed you yet, this time. Steve asked everyone to back up and give them room. Them? You mentally questioned, who else is here?

The mini crowd back up and dispersed more in the living room. That's when you saw him. You were slightly embarrassed yourself when you noticed how you had pinched yourself. When you met his eyes, you felt time slow. He was not paying attention to anyone else either. You walked a few steps closer, "Hey, Sarge," you gently said. Bucky's body and face softened at your voice. "Long time, no see," you gave him a small smile. You could tell he wanted to reach out to you, but something was holding him back. Suddenly, you felt your stomach drop and a large amount of feelings suddenly attack you. For over half a century, you've known of his death, and it took you so long to accept that he was dead. Now, everything had backfired. All of that had now changed. You felt yourself beginning to sob. Bucky, your Bucky is alive. "This can't be real," you whispered and ran to your room.

The nightmares came back to you. There were incredibly recurring and were from your, what you call, main past being the 1940s and 1950s. However, they did not just include the horrible reliving the past like they used to be when you experienced them before. They included the screams and cries from Bucky to you. Your name and cries for help kept repeating, but you could never find where they were coming from until it was all dead silent, and you awoke panting and sweating. A few of the times included you crying out for him too and patting over the bed until you realized it was a dream.

This time after waking from the nightmare, you grabbed your throw blanket, quietly escaped your room, and went out to one of the patios. It did not matter how many times you did this, the view was always something that distracted you from the nightmares that occurred. The lights from all the apartments and other buildings were something that you always appreciated about living in the city. It did not matter that you were awake because you were not the only one. Sometimes, you would people watch and make up stories of the shapes of people that you go in and out of their lit living areas. It was all comforting. The opening of the sliding door made you jump in your seat a little, but you were fine when you saw it was Steve.

"Another one," he questioned and sat in the chair next to you. You nodded and wrapped the blanket around you tighter. "You know you can talk to whenever about them." Steve reminded you like he always does. Sometimes you debated making up a fake one to tell him about, so he could leave you alone about it. But like always, you pursed your lips and shook your head, "I'm fine," you quietly spoke. Steve sighed and looked out into the city. "It makes you wonder why their all up sometimes." He changed the subject that he knew he could get you to talk about. You gave a silent, second longing laugh before answering, "That's when you make up people stories. Like that building," you pointed at one about the height of where the patio was, the third closest building on the right, "on the third floor down from the top and fourth one to the right that couple are planning their wedding, it's going horribly, but they keep having fun along the way." You had a comfortable smile.

"Ever wonder what's that like anymore?" Steve asked while he looked at the window you exposed to him. You audibly scoffed, "Maybe almost a century ago, but I haven't ever since." Steve gave you a sad but understanding look. "Dedicate myself to fighting with the Avengers, I don't think any dreamboat could handle it. Just a single dame till the day I die...whenever that will finally be," you finished by rolling your eyes. You watched Steve looked at you with shock. "Well, Y/n, I'm surprised by you," he stated and leaned back in his chair, "I thought you would think differently with Bucky here. I know I have." You gave him a sad smile, "Steve, you and I both know that that person is not the Bucky we know and..." You faded into silence and looked back out. "Y/n, you haven't even-" "I know!" You paused after hearing yourself echo slightly, "I know, I haven't." You added much quieter. "The thought terrifies me, especially after coming to acceptance that my....was no longer, and being kidnapped with no hope in sight, I turned into a cold person. I saw him, a-and I-I..." you paused again, "I wasn't--fuck, I still don't know how to react to it, and I...am very mixed emotion about everything with him. On one hand, there's....what we had," your hands really helped you do the talking, "and now...I'm sure he has gone through worse than me. I'm sure he doesn't want to add anything to my plate of trauma, and I don't want to add to his." You finished.

"Y/n, you can't even get yourself to say Bucky's name." Steve pointed out to you. That's when emotions started. "Steve," you heavily exhaled, "that's the problem. Some nights, I wake up screaming for him. I pat my bed looking for him! I haven't done that since his mother told me about the soldiers coming up to her about his KIA in the '40s, Steve! I have nightmares of him screaming for me to help him, and I can never find him!" You took a large breath. "I am in an internal battle of wanting to run and jump in his arms like I wanted to do so badly when I daydreamed about the war being over and becoming a wife of an American hero while also wanting to stay the hell away from him because...well, everything after that to now!" You rubbed your forehead. "Y/n, he's here. Try something. Do you think he doesn't have the same feeling?" You looked up at the sky and shook your head. "It's terrifying." You breathed. "So is waking up from the ice, but we survived that." Steve said before getting up and going back in the tower.

***

Right on time again, up and terrified. You repeated your routine of going outside. You hummed old, familiar songs as you did. One of your favorite couples were dancing by their window. "You really have it all figured out, don't you?" You whispered, even though you knew you would never get an answer back. They were comfort characters in your world. You were so entranced by them that you did not noticed the other human walk out onto the patio as well, until he spoke. "Old habits never die." Your neck swiftly changed directions in shock at the voice. You tightened the blanket from a nervous habit. "Somethings never do," you simply added before turning away. However, your eyes kept glancing towards him. You noticed the recent haircut compared to when you saw him the other day at shoulder's length or a little beyond. "But so many things often do." He responded. "Can't ever go back even if we truly desired to." You added back to him.

There was silence. Eye contact never fully met. Under different circumstances of no history involved, some would say it resembled high school crushes. He finally gave in first and turned around to face you, hands on the railing of the patio. You noticed then that the left one was vibranium. You sighed and looked back at the couple near the window while humming songs from the '40s. Then, after a short while, you heard Bucky add to your humming. You stopped and shyly smiled back at him. "Music is nothing like it used to be," you mentioned. He lightly laughed and nodded. What came from your mouth next, you didn't really have control over, maybe it was an instinct like when you talk to Steve, maybe it was something you did not know you truly desired now.

"Want to head to my room and listen to it?" You couldn't avoid eye contact when he looked back at you now. You said it loud and clear enough that he looked over at you with a hint of shock. "That'd be nice," Bucky responded with a hint of a smile.

At first, it did start as simply that, listening to the records while sitting on your set of velvet wide wingback chairs. The occasional glances and small smiles shared. Then, Bucky made a move. He stood from his chair and stood in front of yours, offering you a dance. "Oh, Bucky, I haven't danced since-" "1943?" You nodded at him finishing your sentence. "I haven't either," he added and as gentle as he could be, he grabbed your hand to pull you up to dance with him. You allowed it to happen, resistance did not feel right to you in that situation.

The dancing started stiff and cautious like neither of wanted to frighten the other. However, it grew into a more fluid dancing, the pair of you getting more comfortable with each other. After a couple hours, you felt comfortable enough to rest your head on his chest. "Don't fall asleep on me, Y/n doll." He quietly said, which made you look up at him with curiosity at the old nickname. "I'm sorry," he admittedly said. "I shouldn't have-" "Don't apologize," you deeply whispered and leaned up, kissing Bucky's cheek. Then, his lips, after so many decades, had reconnected with yours, quick and short turned into long as well as passionate.

The world around you both felt like it turned back to 1943. The room was now Bucky's apartment, his clothing turned into his sergeant uniform, yours into the red shirtwaist dress, and time didn't hurt the pair of you like the present. "Never leave me again, James Buchanan Barnes." Your lips drew together and bodies grew closer. "Wouldn't dream of it, Y/n doll," Bucky would mutter against your lips and pulled your closer by the waist.

As your back landed on the bed, you physically felt your breath being caught. "Bucky," you exhaled in a tone that was no longer flirtatious or excited, rather it was a sad realization. The dimly lit apartment, the uniform, the red dress, all of it turned back into reality of your room in the Avengers Tower. You can see that the dream ideal world had broke from his eyes as well. "Bucky," you breathed as you stood and softly grabbed both sides of his face, "you were gone. You were gone for so long." You lightly cried. He embraced you, holding you close to his chest. "I know, doll." Bucky lightly kissed the top of your head. You gripped the back of his shirt. "Don't ever do that again." You whispered into him. "Why would I ever do such a thing?" Bucky held you tighter.

[augment-techs]

Song Lyrics Writing Prompts:

Hey they found a body//Not sure it was his but they’re using his name; (Past the Mission, by Tori Amos)

Tell me that you’re still in love with that Milkmaid; (Father Lucifer, by Tori Amos)

Sometimes she’s a friend of mine; (Mr. Zebra, by Tori Amos)

Sleep-overs, beans, cats and pot//You’re only popular with anorexia; (Jackie’s Strength, by Tori Amos)

There’s a place called heaven and a place called hell//A place called prison and a place called jail//And da-da’s probably on his way to all of ‘em except one; (97’ Bonnie and Clyde, by Tori Amos)

And I rode along side, till the honey spread itself so thin for me to break your bread//For me to take your word//I had to steal it; (A Sorta Fairy Tale, by Tori Amos)

Yes I know what you think of me, You never shut up//Yeah I can hear that; (Silent All These Years, by Tori Amos)

And the greatest of teachers won’t hesitate–to leave you there, by yourself, chained to fate; (I Alone, by LIVE)

I liked the way my hand looked on your head; (Iris, by LIVE)

The confusion sets in//Before the doctor can even close the door; (Lightning Crashes, by LIVE)

You wrap your legs around me//All I can do to try and breathe; (The Dolphin’s Cry, by LIVE)

A million mile fall from grace//Thank god we missed the ground; (Run to the Water, by LIVE)

Who lit the candle that started the fire//Burnt down the fortress, the throne?; (They Stood Up For Love, by LIVE)

We hit a couch, the place was packed with sweaty palms//Sweaty thongs, and sweaty backs; (Deep Enough, by LIVE)

It’s always times like these, When I think of you//And I wonder if you ever think of me; (A Thousand Miles, by Vanessa Carlton)

My first time, hard to explain//Rush of blood, oh, and a little bit of pain; (White Houses, by Vanessa Carlton)

I went to pick her up//The tire had a blow-out, and my mom’s car got//Shot up; (Babysitting Blues, Adventures in Babysitting soundtrack)

The soul redeeming feature, or that little creature//Is that she’s alive; (The Corpse Bride Soundtrack)

And then, baby, everything…went…black; (The Corpse Bride Soundtrack)

When it comes to surprises in the moonlit night//I excel without ever even trying; (The Nightmare Before Christmas Soundtrack)

Lovers in love, and the other runs away//Lover is cryin’ ‘cus the other won’t stay//Some others hover, only weeping for the other//Who was dyin’ since the day they were born; (Stay, by Lisa Loeb)

Of my virtue, I am justly proud; (Hellfire, Hunchback of Notre Dame)

We set the world in motion//By reaching out for each others hand; (Eye to Eye, A Goofy Movie Soundtrack)

That’s our cue, boys//It’s time to go slummin’; (Brooklyn’s Here, Newsies the Musical)

Fairy tales live in me//Fables coming from my memory//Fantasy is not a crime; (Castle in the Sky, Nightcore)

Hello, teacher! Tell me, what's my lesson?; (Mad World, by Michael Andrews)

"Plenty of meat, but with no blood!"; (Lvího Krále Kytice)

Freak//Slut//Burn-Out//Bug Eyes//Poser//Lard-Ass; (Beautiful, Heathers the Musical)

Like the Huns invading Rome//Welcome to my school, this ain’t no high school//This is The Thunderdome; (Beautiful, Heathers the Musical)

Might still have voices in my head, but now they’re just the normal kind; (Voices in my Head, Be More Chill)

Somebody shine a light//I’m frozen by the fear in me; (Shatter Me, by Lindsey Sterling)

Hello again, Friend of a Friend; (Black Sheep, Metric)

Don’t fight, don’t lose your head//’Cus every night, who’s in your bed?; (Take Me or Leave Me, Rent)

You have invented a new kind of stupid//A damage you can never undo, kind of stupid; (Congratulations, Hamilton)

Because Prince Charming would never settle for you; (Lower Your Expectations, Bo Burnham)

Hot blonde, hot bod, Cheer Captain//Plus they were rich; (The Ballad of Sara Berry)

A sprinkle of Glamor, a dollop of Charm//Trading family secrets and recipes long as your arm; (Song of the Witches, SJ Tucker)

14 lads, so grave and so great, yet we 5 sisters with veils and with plates//Lay down a quilt on their tomb; (The Five Sisters, American Murder Song)

Somewhere where the road forks left and coils; (Mary, American Murder Song)

Love is a white room that cures every ill; (Sweet Rosalie, American Murder Song)

See me now, a ray of light in the moondance//See me now, I cannot leave this place; (The Willow Maid, Erutan)

Friendship dies, and true love lies//Night will fall, and the dark will rise; (When a Good Man Goes to War, Doctor Who)

What do I stand for, what do I stand for//Most nights I don’t know//Anymore; (Some Nights, the fun)

We're one of a kind, no category//Too many years lost in history; (Six, Six the Musical)

“The way I see it, your daddy should be leavin’ and you should stick around--and kill him”//”WHAT”//”Nothing.”; (Say My Name, Beetlejuice the Musical)

Eat, sleep, love, hate//Like a leaf floating in the wind//Watch them all vacillate; (They’re Only Human, Death Note the Musical)

Can you not feel the terror//Like a fire in the air; (Madame Guillotine, The Scarlet Pimpernel)

“I’ll live inside you forever!//With Satan himself by my side!”; (Confrontation, Jekyll & Hyde)

As different as the sun and moon is//This is the reality of my duality; (Jekyll & Hyde, Jonathan Thulin)

Do you love me?//I don’t know if I love you; (Do You Love Me, Maître Gims)

[fountainpenguin]

Hi, another update. Mentioned a while ago that my laptop was no longer functional- I’m still working towards replacing that with something new. Also got a new desktop computer (Replaced a device I’ve had for nearly a decade + transferred lots of files over). Going through lots of changes (Job switch, sibling got married, got a new office, also some other things I don’t want to go into detail about on Tumblr).

No longer have access to my old art program, but I planned ahead for that and bought a new program while it was on sale, so I’ll be experimenting with that in the upcoming weeks. Expect Happy Peppy Gary art. Might be some 130 Prompt spoilers in it but at this point I frankly don’t care, I’ve been actively planning and drafting the 130 since 2016 and I’m anxious to draw for some of the major plot stuff skljdf. My hyperfixation for the last several months has been War & Peace / Great Comet of 1812 and :’) “Pierre & Andrey” is a very good song for a lot of my OCs but also for Gary and the Pixies, I swear...

May also draw some Chloes and Kevins and others. Possibly Dame Sandy, some Longwood, and maybe some Commelina because I read through all the remaining Origin chapter drafts and stuff hit me hard and I cry, idk. I’m wasp dad trash and I’m really excited to share more Origin.

Basically I’m straight-up tired of living in fear of judgment so I hope you’re all ready to remember that this is my house and in this house I post what I want.

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Don’t really have the emotional strength to talk to anybody, but I’ve been reviewing my ‘fics. I really want to put the next Reedfilter Rules chapter out- been sitting on that one for a very long time. Writing RR!Anti-Cosmo is extremely difficult but... wow, I often love him more than Riddleverse Classic Anti-Cosmo SKLDFJSKLDJF. In Classic he’s often bound by social status and tradition while RR!Anti-Cosmo straight-up does what he wants and it’s fantastic. I know I’ve been picking at the revisions for his chapter for ages, but he has to be perfect when he goes public because he's very different from Classic!Anti-Cosmo and I want everything to be /chef’s kiss for me.

If you’re new here and/or not up to date with Reedfilter canon, I encourage you to check the Reedfilter Rules tag on my blog and maybe learn some interesting things you didn’t know yet :> RR is an AU of my Classic take on canon, but it remains consistent with show canon and it’s full of dumb cliches and dumb flirting and political idiots and it’s just silly and fun for me.

Should be some Frayed Knots and Origin on the horizon as well, so thank you for your patience. I am extremely anxious to move both stories along and there’s not much left to do before I post, but I’m finicky and want to ensure my buffer is stable before I return to a consistent schedule. Fingers maybe crossed for going back to our one chapter a week schedule, but not promising that yet. We’re entering my favorite part of Origin, but it coincides with the most difficult part of Knots, so it’s a struggle.

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Emphasizing again that I basically have not been keeping up with reviews, Tumblr notifs, or FFN / AO3 commentary for a very long time. I thank you for sending them and apologize if you were waiting for a response you didn’t receive. Life is kind of stressful and people always need me for something, so at the end of the day I don’t always want to build up the emotional strength to search my inbox and read comments for my different stories/fandoms that might not always be nice, and even if they are nice then I don’t always have the ability to reply. Sometimes it’s easier to look at nothing and sometimes those avoidance periods need to last a long time. I appreciate any kind words that have been sent my way.

I’ve been extremely busy and still have not watched the FOP live action spin-off thing. I’ve kept my distance from fandom content and successfully avoided spoilers all this time, but I’m planning to watch it very soon now that life is starting to come back under control. I watched the first episode and enjoyed it, but blocking out enough time to binge on free trial isn’t easy and suddenly most of the year goes by... Exhaustion.

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Vainly hoped I’d return to Tumblr someday and find that the divider line and/or abilities to create white space dividers with the enter key had returned to the post editor and wow I cannot express enough how disappointed I am that they have done exactly not that.

Sorry for Ask box stuff I haven’t touched in one million years; just didn’t have FOP brainpower for a long time and needed to do other things. There are some heavy topics like war, abuse, politics, discrimination, death, and affairs in my ‘fics and sometimes you need space from that type of content even when you’re the one who put it there.

If anyone knows whether Tumblr still refuses to show posts that contain links, I’d be interested in knowing more about the current situation.

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tl;dr - Sorry I can’t engage in long talks; holding conversation via back and forth writing has always been draining on my emotions and frankly everyone should just call me /lh

‘fic updates starting soon? Hoping to get a buffer up, thank you for your patience while the Creature Crossing ARPG has been getting all my love on dA. Anxious to see my fairy kids again, though. 

More updates on fanfic schedule to come. Will probably post new FOP chapters on Fridays once it’s mid October. Further details to come.

[selfshippinglover]

I’m thinking about Actor Mark could easily be considered my inserts/Ci’s 505 of sorts. cause like, a 505 is:(as described by urban dictionary)

The thing that is simultaneously keeping you alive and killing you, often used to describe a person who you're in love with, but, may be bad for you.

(this is long lmao)

And like, she has put everything into him since they met back as children. Like, he spent her childhood hoping to be his muse and pushing him to continue on with storytelling and acting. In her teens years she continued helping him chase his roles, dreams, muses, anything and everything he wanted all while falling  harder in harder. Don’t get me wrong, She did pursue her own interests as well(she’s Damien secretary until poker night after all!) but ultimately helping him was one of her three top priorities and she didn’t mind missing things she wanted and/or deemed to be personally important to do it. He barely had to protest to get her to agree. 

All the while she would find his breath catching over the person that she put up with(she really cares about Dames, William, and Mark so what choice does she have?) but can’t seem to really connect with.(outside of caring for the gang I suppose) As the two get closer that feeling starts become more of one and envy and even loathing at times....and then they got married.(whoo)

Haha oh MAN she was a WRECK when the news gotten broken to her. Mark had come to her high as a kite and excited invited her to the wedding. She smiled and shared in his excitement but as soon as he walked out to go tell someone else she just broke down honestly. A good three hour cry. Mourning everything she hadn’t done with him and how he was now slipping away too. Sure, it was inevitable that he would ask but damn if she wasn’t sure Celine would accept. Sometimes, she honestly wasn’t sure that she even loved him. But the marriage was in a weeks time and she had to pull herself together for everyone’s sake. So, she helps with the planning and nods along to any of his ideas with a smile on her face and something stinging her yes.

And then the wedding night comes. An absolutely gorgeous events with amazing food, table settings, party favors, decorations, everything!(Benjamin really had fun helping to set it all up :)) And as Mark gives his speech and gets down on one knee, as he looks up at her like the moon complimenting the sun, she decides right then and there that these feelings need to die. Well, less a decision and more an overwhelming feeling that would take hold shortly after. She’s for their night with them through ti all but sneaks off(as she usually would do at his extravagant parties) for some air when needed.

The month that proceeds it is a hellish and the month after that is even worse. Eventually, though, Damien hooks her up with a blind date via someone he knew and ran into again recently in college. It’s uhh, a nice distraction. Each person after that is the same in that way. Smiling faces, open hearts, thirsty, vulnerable, longing....but it always ends the same. They reach out for her hand and she feels tension. They go to kiss her and all she can see is Mark’s red lips reflected in a lit mirror. Someone flirts with her? All she can picture is the smirk that would play on his lips and bleed into his eyes when he was messing with her. And she really tried to push through it! (It felt awful to do so but she had try if Dames was going through all the trouble to worry and help her) She really did but it was also too obvious, or maybe too little? Somehow, they would always come to the conclusion that she wasn’t ready or didn’t feel as strongly or there could even be someone else......

And after the 10th failure of an attempt at an actual relationship, she finds herself at another Mark mansion party. Tired, beaten down, and defeated. Watching him laugh and smile with his brother, his friends, his wife, she makes a decides that maybe, just once it’s okay to try something else. A different kind of a cure for a newly opened ache. Mark invites everyone to drink and for the first time in years she smiles, joining in the toasting! Everyone is excited and curious and slipping into the drink all so fast she can barely keep up! She’s not sure how many shots it takes but eventually she’s definitively there. Swaying on her feet, slurred speech and cheeks flushed pink in what seems like a permanent fixture. But as always, she finds herself heading out on to the mansion’s balcony seeking out the view that nowhere else she’d ever been could provide her. Mark follows after her. Now that she was intoxicated, maybe she’d actually allow the company? Or well, any company that wasn’t Damien.

“Oh, hey Damien.” she smiles quietly, clinging to the balcony railing. Mark chuckles and waves, putting on a softer tone than usual. (He could pretend to be Damien if that’s what it would take.) She starts to go into detail about the stars and the fact that she could see so many and the constellations Mark was graced with viewing every night in his secret forest hideaway. He plays along, laughing, playing the part of Damien.....and then she says something that takes him off guard. Suddenly, she’s talking to him very casually about the crush she won’t speak to anyone about out loud.(except Damien apparently lmaooo) She gets this look in her yes, soft, sure, longing deep as the ocean as she calls the man standing a mere 5 feet away brighter than any star she was enjoying the privilege of seeing only a little while earlier. Mark finds himself a bit taken aback, something warm swelling in his chest( a feeling that he hasn’t felt with Celine in months) while Ci finds her eyelids getting heavy. The two sit togther for a long moment in relative quiet as Cici thanks Damien for always putting up with her when she was like this” (how many times had she talked to Damien about him??) before passing out while leaning on his shoulder. He carries her to a guest bedroom, looking at her for a long moment before leaving her to rest, ignoring that warm feeling. In the morning she doesn’t remember anything of the night before and decides that she’s NOT doing that again.(God, the headache!) Mark keeps the knowledge of last nights events to himself and returns to his normal friendly routine but finding himself teasing her even worse than usual. It’s a bit more targeted now that he’s armed with the understanding of how things actually are. His ego is through the fucking roof and she’s finding it harder not to tell him despite everything. Things continue on in a dance of Mark hoping she’ll come out with it already so they can really talk and she fights every breathless moment with crumbling logic and an unsatisfied feeling in her gut.

Time goes on and we get to the cheating part and uh, oh booy she walked in on them at the mansion......and immediately rushed to tell Mark. Everything spirals downhill from there so fast its hard to truly keep track of sometimes. In the end, she’s the only one that comes to aid Mark when he falls into that depression in the mansion. The only one to stay at his side no matter how much push and pull was involved. no matter how much he said he didn’t need anyone or tried to have the servants throw her out. She took a vacation when he finally broke down to her help and stayed with him. Some other night in the mansion, Mark gets drunk and tells her about what really happened that night at the party. He starts saying that he was wrong about Celine and he couldn’t see what was right in front of him. On and on and on and she just chops it up to the drink(she ain’t gonna be his one night stand) and makes him aware that regardless of her feelings she can’t believe him like that. Hurt and scared and tired. No matter how badly she wants to, it’s just not right.

idk apparently i just wanted to describe some more shit but in a world where Mark doesn’t feel the same loving him is like willingly choosing to suffocate herself so djhs(thank GOD that’s not how it goes lhdflhg)

[neptunes-saddest-alien]

When i can feel the exhaustion so deep in my bones, and the weight of it on my lungs and in every muscle i move..

and i just start crying, just because I’m so fucking tired… and i know no matter what i do, I’ll always be exhausted,

from my head to my bones… Always so fucking exhausted…

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Non-Sequential [Ch. 27]

Pairing: Pre-Serum Steve Rogers/Steve Rogers x Reader

One night, Steve Rogers met a beautiful dame named Y/N. He hadn’t intended on letting her get away. But fate had other ideas. Y/N appeared and disappeared in his life so hauntingly that Steve started to wonder if she was an angel meant to watch over him.

Word Count: 3,200

Chapter 26

Y/N shot up in bed when her Kimoyo beads lit up and alerted her of an incoming call.

It was the middle of the night and she had been fast asleep.

When she tapped one of the beads, a hologram of Steve popped up.

“Steve?” She asked as she sat up and rubbed her eyes awake.

“I’m sorry to wake you,” he said softly.

“It’s fine. Is everything OK?” She asked.

Steve sighed. “Vision and Wanda were attacked in Edinburgh.”

Y/N was fully awake now. “Attacked?”

“By…By aliens,” Steve added.

She froze. It sounded like a joke. But the look on Steve’s face was nothing but serious.

“Is everyone OK?”

Steve glanced down. “Vision’s hurt. It’s not good. Wanda’s a little beat up, but fine. Nat and Sam are OK.”

“And what about you?” She challenged.

“I’m fine,” he answered too quickly.

Y/N waited for him to continue.

“We’re on the quinjet now.” Then he hesitated. “Headed to the compound.” He sighed again. “Y/N…there was an attack in New York City. Tony’s missing. He was last seen boarding the spaceship that landed. And that’s the last anyone’s heard of him.”

Y/N suddenly realized why Steve was calling her. Something bad was about to happen. And neither of them believed they were going to see each other before it all went down.

“What if they arrest you?” Y/N thought aloud.

But Steve was already shaking his head at the question. “They know they need us. We’re about to be under attack. They’ve already lost Tony. Earth needs as much help as it can get.”

“What do they want?” She asked numbly.

“Vision. They want the mind stone.” Steve’s jaw clenched. “We’re taking him to the compound to see if we can remove it and still keep him alive.”

Y/N knew none of this was good. Tony was missing, Vision’s life was at stake, and aliens, they knew nothing about, were about to reign hell on the entire planet if they didn’t get what they wanted.

It was all above Y/N. She may have had an enhancement, but she was never a superhero. She didn’t come from a military background or the intelligence community. She only knew about the secrets of the universe from her relationship with Steve.

“Steve,” she whispered, “are you coming back?”

It was the question Steve was scared to answer.

“I-I don’t know, Y/N.”

She was about to open her mouth, say her goodbyes and tell him how much she loved him. Everything that needed to be said before they went into the unknown.

But Steve cut her off before she could do it. “I’ll call you soon,” he urged in his captain voice.

Except Y/N stayed quiet and looked unsure.

“Y/N,” his tone was stern. “Look at me.”

She did.

“I will call you soon. OK?”

She nodded.

Then the call ended and Y/N’s bedroom was filled with darkness once again.

————

Bucky woke up to the sound of someone pounding on his door.

“Bucky! Bucky, wake up!”

He shot out of bed as he immediately recognized Y/N’s voice.

The two of them hadn’t spoken since he went to her room and confessed everything.

But none of that mattered when he could clearly hear the panic in her voice.

He opened the door to Y/N’s wide eyes and heavy breathing. He looked past her shoulder to see that both of her guards were watching her with slight concern, proving that they didn’t know any more than he did of what was going on. They had just blindly followed her here and asked no questions. 

“What’s going on?” He asked her.

“I need you to teach me how to shoot a gun,” Y/N said as she struggled to catch her breath.

His eyes furrowed. “What?”

“I’m never going to be as good as I need to be at hand-to-hand combat. So…I need you to show me how to shoot a gun.”

“Y/N, it’s the middle of night. What the hell is going on?”

“Something’s coming. I don’t–I don’t know.” Then her bottom lip started trembling. “I just…I’m sick of being useless. I’m not going to stay here and hide when everyone else is fighting.”

Then she was crying. She was quickly becoming hysterical.

Without even thinking, Bucky pulled her shaking body towards him with his one arm.

“Shhh, kid. It’s OK. It’s OK.” He rubbed her back. “Can you take a deep breath? Can you do that for me?”

It took a bit of coaxing, but Y/N was finally able to do what he asked.

Bucky ignored the guards as he tried to calm her down.

He pulled away to look at her. “Now, tell me what’s going on? What’s gotten you so upset?” He pushed some hair off her face that got stuck to her skin thanks to the tears.

“It’s Thanos.” She finally whispered.

“Who the fuck is Thanos?”

After that, Bucky explained to Y/N’s guards that they were dismissed and he’d look after Y/N. 

30 minutes later, he had Y/N sitting in his kitchen with a blanket draped over her shoulders and a cup of tea in her grasp.

She looked so young and scared. The first time Bucky had met Y/N, long before he knew about her ability, she was as older than he’d ever known her. But now, she seemed so young and innocent.

Bucky was reminded that while Steve and Bucky had lived multiple lives that weaved in and out of time, Y/N was just in her first. She had dealt with and seen far more than any young woman her age should have. But with her ability, she never had a choice.  

Maybe that was why Bucky felt this draw to her, this sense of duty to protect her. But it was rather silly, wasn’t it? That’s what Steve already did. She didn’t need Bucky too.

Y/N had managed to explain to Bucky the call she’d just received from Steve.

It all made a bit more sense to him now.

“A war’s coming, Bucky,” Y/N muttered as her eyes held no focus, just staring off into the distance.

He didn’t say anything.

“And I can’t do anything to help,” she frowned. “I’m fucking useless.”

Bucky immediately leaned forward. “Hey,” his voice was stern, “That is not true.”

“They say I’m ‘enhanced,’ but my ability is useless. I can’t help anyone with it. I can’t even help myself. I wish I was like Wanda. Or even Natasha…she’s more normal than me and she can make a difference.”

“You think they only way to make a difference is to fight?” Bucky challenged.

“When it’s come to fighting a war, yes.”

He glared at her then. “And what about all the paramedics, the nurses, the doctors?” He sat up straighter. “Or the helpers?”

She squinted at him. “The helpers?”

“There’s always civilians – people just like you – who are helping. Look at any crisis and there’s people saving complete strangers.”

He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his face.

“People like Steve and the Avengers… they fight so people like you can be safe, so people like you don’t have to fight.”

“You’re saying you’re not one of those people?” She asked, not ignoring that Bucky didn’t include himself in any of that.

“I’m a wanted man,” Bucky pointed out.

“So is Steve,” Y/N immediately countered. “So are half of the Avengers.”

“That’s different and you know it, kid.” Bucky sighed. “And they wouldn’t be wanted if it wasn’t for me…”

Y/N’s Kimoyo beads glowed blue suddenly, signaling that she was getting an incoming call. There is no one else it could be besides Steve.

She instantly tapped at them just how Shuri had taught her.

Seconds later, Steve’s hologram lit up Bucky’s tiny hut.

“Steve! Are you OK?” Y/N instantly blurted out.

“I’m fine. Everyone’s the same,” he quickly told her.

She let out a sigh of relief and allowed herself to relax a little bit.

“I’ll be home in a few hours,” Steve added.

“You’re all…coming to Wakanda?” Y/N asked carefully.

“Shuri is the only person that can help Vision. There’s no other option.”

She nodded in understanding.

“Y/N, I’ve already talked to T’Challa. I’m sending you back to the States as soon as I get back.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Steve? I’m not going anywhere.”

Steve expected this reaction. “Y/N, think about what I just said. We’re bringing Vision back. That means we’re bringing the war right to Wakanda. We’re about to make the country the most dangerous place on the planet.”

“I don’t care. I’m not leaving. Not without you.” Something about her word choice made Steve suddenly go quiet.

“We’ll talk about it when I get there,” he told her quietly.

Y/N realized how tired he looked.

“I just wanted to call and check in,” Steve told her.

She didn’t argue with him further, but the look on her face proved that she wasn’t going to give up without a fight.

“I love you,” he told her.

Y/N’s eyes flickered to Bucky. But then quickly went back to the hologram.

“I love you, too.” Steve’s hologram collapsed.

————-

For the first time in awhile, Bucky didn’t keep his distance from Y/N. In fact, he was now doing the complete opposite as he stood on the landing pad of the palace.

Y/N had been fidgeting since they got there, waiting for the team to arrive.

Bucky could tell by the way she held her body and the shadows under her eyes that she didn’t sleep a wink last night.

He’d offered for her to stay and sleep at his place last night, after he finally calmed her down and talked things out with her.

But Y/N immediately declined.

Bucky guessed things were forever changed now that he had admitted his true feelings for her. It’s not like he didn’t expect repercussions for his confession, but it all happened so quickly. He wasn’t ready yet.

“Please don’t let him send me away.”

Bucky blinked.

Y/N had said it so quietly and quickly. It didn’t sound like her. Probably because it came from a place of pure desperation.

He quickly turned to look at her to make sure he wasn’t imagining things.

“Y/N, I don’t think – he’s not gonna listen to me,” Bucky told her gently.

When it came to Y/N and her safety, Bucky didn’t think Steve would listen to anyone. That’s what caused the couples grievances in the first place. Steve would always do what he thought was best for Y/N. It didn’t matter what Bucky, his best friend, had to say.

“He listens to you. Especially when it comes to me,” Y/N told him.

Bucky didn’t know how to respond to that. But it didn’t matter because the quinjet was now lowering to the platform.

Y/N and Bucky stood back, letting T’Challa formally greet the new guests of Wakanda.

It gave Y/N an opportunity to take everyone in. She hadn’t seen Bruce in forever. He looked the same. But he’d clearly been shaken up. Vision couldn’t even stand up straight and had his arm around Wanda, who was helping him off the jet.

As the team headed their way, Bucky stepped forward, but Y/N remained where she stood.

She watched as Bucky started talking to Steve.

Steve’s eyes flickered over Bucky’s shoulder at Y/N. It was the dead giveaway that they were talking about her.

In return, Y/N looked at the ground, not enjoying the feeling of being discussed without actually being a part of the conversation.

But her attention was quickly taken away when Sam and Nat came over to give her giant hugs. They hadn’t seen her since everything went down with the Accords. When Steve returned to Wakanda to be with her, he never brought the team with him.

“It’s good to see you,” Sam told her with a soft smile as he hugged her.

“Have you been training?” Nat asked as she looked her up and down, taking note of the new muscles that had grown on Y/N’s form.

Y/N shrugged. “A little bit.”

“If you’ll all follow me this way,” T’Challa interrupted, guiding the new guests to Shuri’s lab.

Y/N turned and watched them go.

“I’ll be there in a second,” Steve said from behind her.

When she turned to face him, he was standing right behind her. But Bucky was nowhere to be found.

“Hi,” Y/N spoke quietly.

He gave her a sad smile. “Hi.”

Before he could say anything more, Y/N threw herself into his arms. He instantly wrapped himself around her, like it would be enough to protect her from anything in the world. But they both knew that was impossible.

“I shouldn’t have talked about sending you away the way I did,” Steve quickly told her, whispering it into her hair. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

She pulled back to look at him, but stayed in his arms. “You can��t push me away every time there’s danger around, Steve.”

“I know. I know that now.”

“I’m staying here,” Y/N declared, just to make her point.

He nodded.

Whatever Bucky had said to Steve, Y/N had to thank him for it.

“Go on,” Y/N lightly shoved him away. “T’Challa and the team are waiting for you.”

Steve sighed. “I’ll come find you later.”

Y/N nodded.

————

An hour later, they landed.

The reactions could’ve been worse and more panicked.

Y/N didn’t know what to do as she watched guards and Dora Milaje calling out orders and rushing around the palace. She heard them say something about evacuating the city.

Her eyes raced from face to face, trying to find someone she knew to ask what was going on or what she could do to help.

Her panic started increasing as she failed to find anyone.

“Y/N! Y/N!” His voice called through the chaos.

Relief instantly washed over her as she turned around to find Steve walking toward her with such purpose that everyone stayed out of his way.

“Steve, what’s going on?” She asked. Y/N had seen the ships landing, had felt the vibration as one of them crashed into the protective forcefield.

“They’re here,” he explained.

Then she looked down to see that there was a contraption on each of his forearms.

Y/N’s eyes widened, quickly processing what was happening. “What are you doing?” She shot at him, her tone filled with accusation.

“We’re holding them off. Shuri needs time.”

“Steve, no–“

“Y/N, listen to me,” he cut her off and grabbed her shoulders. Next thing she knew, he was ushering her towards the platform again. “Once we leave, you’re going with the Queen Mother. You’ll be safe with her.”

Hovercrafts were on the platform now and warriors were rushing around them.

Y/N was still trying to process what was happening. She couldn’t focus on anything.

“Steve…” she breathed his name.

Y/N was going into shock.

“Hey, look at me,” he gently pulled her face away from all the chaos that surrounded them. And just like that, he was all she saw. “You’re going to be OK.”

Tears started spilling down her cheeks and she was shaking her head. “I’m not worried about me, Steve.”

He pulled her into him. It was a dangerous thing to do: he didn’t know if he’d be able to let go now.

“I love you, Y/N. Whatever happens, you know that, right?”

He felt her nod against him.

She pulled back, eyes still shedding tears. “I’ve always known that.”

Steve gave her a sad smile.

Then she pulled him into a kiss. It didn’t matter that they were surrounded by people. Nobody was paying them any attention.

It was a goodbye kiss. Steve could feel it. It was desperate. It was messy. But there was also an edge to Y/N. He felt emotions shifting off her that he didn’t quite understand.

There was no time to question it.

“Steve, I love you,” she gasped for air. “I love you so much.”

“I know,” he breathed, still holding her face close to his.

Then someone was calling his name.

“Y/N, I have to go now.” She nodded, but still didn’t drop her hold on him. “You have to let me go,” he whispered to her.

Y/N took in a deep breath and finally took a step back.

“I’ll be OK,” Steve told her as she started slowly walking backwards. He didn’t want to look away from her yet. He couldn’t.

But then he was finally immersed in the crowd of people preparing for battle. She’d lost him.

But then another thought occurred to her.

“Bucky!” She gasped.

Now her eyes were racing around her, trying to find him.

By some miracle, Y/N spotted him as he was about to board a hovercraft.

She jumped into a run, trying her best to avoid running into anyone. She slammed into a few shoulders, but she didn’t that stop her. 

“Bucky!” She called and he instantly turned at both his name and her voice.

Y/N was trying to catch her breath when she stopped in front of him. “Were you really going to leave without saying goodbye?” She accused.

Bucky at least looked a little guilty. “I’ve never been good at goodbyes, kid.”

“Can you promise me something?” She asked him slowly.

“Anything.”

“When this is all over, can we go back to how things used to be between us? I don’t want to hurt you. But I can’t – I don’t want you to keep pushing me away.”

He thought about it for a moment, but nodded his head. “I promise.”

Y/N wrapped him in a hug, burying her face in his neck.

“Don’t worry, kid. I’ll look after that punk,” Bucky breathed into her hair.

“I want you to look after yourself,” she countered.

“Barnes, we’re heading out,” Nat said from atop the hovercraft.

Y/N stepped back from him before she could do anything she regretted.

Bucky gave her a look that she couldn’t quite read.

Y/N wondered…if things were different, if Bucky wasn’t so worried about hurting the people around him, what would he say to her in this moment?

The wind rushed around Y/N as she watched the hovercrafts take off.

Besides the guards who were waiting to escort her to the secure location with the Queen Mother... Y/N was all alone.

The tears slid silently down her face now. She didn’t make a sound, just watched them all getting smaller and smaller as they got closer to the enemy.

Y/N already knew she wasn’t going to see them again.

-----------

Chapter 28

I did it! (don’t worry, this aint the last chapter. i’m not that lucky 😒)

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Mission of Mercy: Sixteen

Any protest Bucky might have had was drowned out when your lips crashed into his and your hand tangled in his hair. Not like he had any protests. He’d missed you while you’d been away and now that you’re tangled around him like a hungry, needy vine it feels like he’s whole again. 

“Hello,” he chuckles, “D’ja miss me?”

You make a soft noise and hide your face in his shoulder. You’re tired. And hungry. And all you want is to go to sleep. This is one of the missions that makes you miss your old life. You hate interrogations. And you hate dealing with people that hurt kids. 

It makes it very hard to stay reasonable and rein in all your skill to hurt someone. To make them never want to get out of bed again, let alone give up the information. 

When you sniffle Bucky tightens his arms around you and hefts you a little more comfortably against his side, “Shh, I’m here,” he hums, rocking you gently. “Don’t cry, baby.”

You know he hates it when you cry. And you can hear your mother’s voice in the back of your head. Telling you you’re being dramatic. Telling you that you’re making things up. Telling you to stop being a brat. Stop manipulating. You’re trying not to cry. Trying to hold yourself together. 

“It’s okay,” he murmured, easing himself down onto the couch and rubbing your back. “I’m here, I know.”

You take a deep breath and look up at the ceiling, forcing yourself into a state of calm you don’t feel. You know, in the back of your head that you’re allowed to cry. Those feelings are allowed to be too much. That Bucky doesn’t hate it when you cry because he feels manipulated. He hates it because it hurts him. He doesn’t want you to cry because it breaks his heart when he can’t help you. 

Bucky watches you carefully and rests his hands on your thighs, smoothing slow circles into your skin with his thumbs. “Too close to home?”

You nod and let your forehead gently against his shoulder, the weight thudding against the metal with a small hollow thud. “Hey! Don’t dent me,” he chuckled. “What about some dinner?”

When you shake your head and sit up slowly, Bucky smiles just a little, “Not hungry or is your stomach in knots?”

“My stomach is in knots,” you sigh, “I don’t think I can eat.”

“What’s got you twisted up?”

Bucky asked but. He wasn’t sure you’d answer. He knew that you played some things close to the chest because you’d been told certain things. He’d heard your mom say them to you. And accuse you of not caring that your brother was dead. And after that, he didn’t wonder why you spoke so carefully. Or why you were very cautious about the emotions you showed on your face.

“I just-” you make a soft noise and thud your head back against his shoulder. “I fucking hate dealing with kids.”

“I know,”  he soothed. And for a long time, he didn’t say anything else. He cuddled you against his chest and rubbed your back. “Do you ever miss it?” he hummed. 

“Miss what?”

“Working with kids,” Bucky answered. 

You take a deep breath. “Sometimes,” you murmur. “It was- an experience. And it was valuable… I mean. I cut my teeth in a kids psych ward. Dealing with riots… hell. You know what scar on my ribs?”

“Yeah?”

“I got stabbed with a piece of a metal door trying to break up a fight.”

“Jesus,” Bucky breathed. He’d wondered. He’d seen all the little scars. Traced them with his finger tips… the same way you’d done with his as the moonlight shimmered across bare skin. In the hazy twilight between asleep and awake. In the warmth and comfort of the afterglow. He’d never asked about the little scars. He knew some of the stories. Because he’d heard Joe tell them. Or because he heard you tell someone who had asked. And now reflexively he reached for your side. The jagged mark that he knew he’d find, starting at the middle of your rib cage and zig zagging to just above your hip. “A fucking metal door?”

“He really wanted to beat the other kid to death,” you explain, “And I just happened to be in the way. It wasn’t personal.”

Bucky snorted and rubbed your side. He knew, in the back of his mind, that there were probably a lot of times in your life where you might have died. Where he might never have gotten to have you in his life. But that didn’t mean he liked thinking about it. 

“So you don’t miss it? Not really?”

“Sometimes I do,” you murmur. “Kids are funny.”

Bucky snorted and you smile a little, “They are,” you protest. “I remember once,” you tell him, “I was working with one of my kiddos. We were in the gym. And he went to toss a ball at me. I missed and he bonked me in the nose with it.”

He looked at you sideways, waiting for the funny part and you smile a little. “Later that day he stuck an eyeball sticker to my forehead so I’d see better next time we played ball.”

“How old was he?” Bucky asked, stroking your hair. 

“Seven,” you answer, “He was the littlest kid on my unit.”

Bucky smiled. He understood why you didn’t want kids. And he knew that he wasn’t terribly enthused about kids either. But. He’d by lying if he said you wouldn’t be a good mother. He’d seen you interact with kids. When your former clients saw you on the street. You knew what to say to them. Your face lit up, every time. And more than once when that had happened, Bucky wondered where you’d learned it because your mother wasn’t that way. But. Bucky also knew better than to tell you you’d be a good mom. You didn’t want to hear it. You heard it enough from your mother. 

“If not dinner,” Bucky said, rubbing your hips, “What about a bath?”

If you knew what Bucky was thinking, you gave no sign. Instead you quirked an eyebrow at him, “Are you trying to seduce me?”

Bucky grinned and kissed you slowly, “Maybe,” he rumbled, “Is it working?”

“Almost,” you tease. 

“Only almost?” He popped you lightly on the back side and mock scowled. 

“Can I have a backrub too?”

And the mock scowl melted into a laugh. “Oh so I have to work for it?” 

“Please?” and when you bat your eyes at him Bucky sighs. Mock put upon. 

“Never met a needier dame in all my life,” he rumbled, kissing a line down the side of your throat. And he feels a thrill when your heart rate hitches up and there’s a new tension in the muscle under his hands. 

“Please?” 

And you sound breathless this time. Less teasing. And there was no telling you no. Not about a back rub or anything else you might ask of him. You could ask him to tear out his own heart and he’d present it to you on a silver plate. 

“Bath first,” Bucky hummed. It felt good. It felt right. When you nodded and melted into him, trusting him to take care of you. Trusting him to make it all better. And he didn’t care if you intuited that he needed the control or if you needed him to take care of you. It felt like heaven. 

So as he picked you up and carried you to the bathroom, your head on his shoulder and your arms around his neck, he smiled.

[red-jaebyrd]

Perfection at a Cost

Whumptober #25 Blurred Vision

Whatever had been sprayed into Damian’s eyes, somehow got through the lenses of his domino. Damian couldn’t see a thing, but blurred shadows. Anyone else would have been panicked that their vision had been compromised; overwhelmed that they had to compensate for a lost sense. Instead, Damian was angry. Fury surged through him at letting his guard down for a split second. He was better than this; he had been trained by the League of Assassins.

It was hard to keep his eyes opened. They stung and burned from whatever solution was sprayed in his face; and while pepper spray made the eyes swell, this substance made his eyes burn and his vision blurry. Still, Damian didn’t move, instead he closed his eyes concentrating on all his other senses. He used the acoustics of the warehouse to help him. He could feel the vibrations of clunky footfalls and hear heavy breathing. As well as smell cheap cologne and alcohol.

It was just like training.

‘You cannot rely on all your senses to be available to you in times of battle, Damian. There will come a time when you must compensate for the loss such as your sight. Concentrate.’

He couldn’t believe his Mother’s advice would actually help him in the field. But she was right…at least at this moment.

Damian had been trained to fight blindfolded. His mother had insisted upon it as part of his training. At least in this situation, instead of complete darkness, he could still see blurred cloudy shapes. However, the straining on his eyes was giving him a migraine. He took deep breaths through his nose to block out the pain.

Fighting blind had been a hard skill to maintain now that he was living with his father. No one in the family would spar with him while he wore a blindfold. Father had refused, even though he was the optimal opponent and teacher. Grayson and Todd refused on principle. On rare occasions Damian had bullied Drake into sparring with him, but that had been only when Cain was unavailable.

Cain had been the only one amongst the family that had agreed with Damian that it was a worthy skill to maintain and therefore had agreed to help him preserve his muscle memory. However, she set the terms of the blindfold sparring sessions with him. She would not push him beyond his capabilities; the session would not go passed half an hour, and the first sign of injury or exhaustion they would stop.

But this wasn’t training, or sparring with Cain. Damian wasn’t fighting to hone a skill, he was fighting to stay alive and avoid capture.

He could hear Nightwing fighting three guys of his own in his periphery.

Damian stood his ground. If he concentrated enough he could see the blurred shape of a big guy in front of him. He continued to stay silent, yet maintained a fighting stance.

“Got nothin’ to say now that you can’t see, huh?” Big Guy taunted.

He heard someone snicker behind him to his left.

“Quit teasin’ him and be done with it, will ya! I wanna get this over with!” someone yelled behind him to his right.

Damian waited for Big Guy to come at him and sure enough the guy charged him with a punch. Damian was able to duck in time and connect a hit to his gut. He could hear him gasping for air. The second guy grabbed him from behind pinning his arms to the side, but his hold was sloppy. Damian knocked his head back hitting the guy square in the nose. The guy let go of him screaming in agony. Luckily the third guy coming at him was loud enough that Damian was able to land a punch and a kick to his face to finish him.

Amongst the din of the fighting, Damian wasn’t fast enough to move away from a sharp blow to the back of his head. Big Guy had come back for more. Damian fell to the ground seeing stars. His eyes and now his head were killing him. For the second time tonight, Damian had let his guard down. His Mother would be furious.

Failure is not an option, Damian.

You’ll never be good enough to serve in the League if you keep allowing your guard to fall.

Your incompetence is shameful of an al Ghul.

Get up. Stop crying. Pick up your sword.

Before the idiot could land another punch, he heard the familiar sound of escrima sticks hitting flesh; followed closely by the whistling sound of zip-ties.

Damian sat up, but did not stand. There was ringing in his ears and the light from the warehouse was hurting his eyes.  Not to mention, the room was still spinning. He knew the familiar feeling of a concussion. He was going to be benched for at least two weeks. He was not looking forward to it.  

“Robin, are you alright?” Nightwing asked, bracing to help Damian stand. “That was a nasty hit you took to the head.”

He got up too quickly and swayed as his blurry vision filled with spots. “I’m fine.”

Damian kept his head down and his eyes closed. His eyes were properly burning now and the blow to his head ached making his muscles feel sluggish. The shame of allowing himself to be compromised was starting to take over as the adrenaline of the fight was fading.

“You sure?”

“I’m fine,” he answered again.

He followed Grayson’s black blur until they were outside the warehouse. Once outside everything changed. There was no light to help differentiate moving shapes from stationary objects.

Damian’s shame seeped away into panic. There were too many sounds of the city to help him navigate where to go. Too many smells to help ground him. Damian stopped moving at the doorway. He was not fine. He was exhausted and in pain.

“Robin?” Nightwing asked, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

It wasn’t a request. It was a demand. The tone in Grayson’s voice commanded the truth, no excuses. It was his ‘Batman’ voice. Damian was too tired to lie.

“I can’t see. They sprayed something in my face and it got through my domino,” Damian answered. “It was different in the warehouse. I could distinguish between the blurry shapes with the light and use the acoustics to my advantage. Out here there is no light and there are too many sounds and smells…and my head hurts.”

It was humiliating admitting the pain he was in, but he knew Grayson wouldn’t ridicule him for his honesty. In fact, Grayson would be concerned that he had kept his condition from him.

“We can fix that,” Nightwing said, bending down in front of him and tapping his shoulder. “Hop on, I’ll give you a piggyback ride.”

“T-T,” Damian replied, yet he wrapped his arms around Grayson’s neck as Grayson hooked his arms under Damian’s knees and stood up.

Damian rested his head on Grayson’s shoulder and his body finally started to relax.

“Don’t fall asleep. We still have to double check you for a concussion and flush your eyes out.” Nightwing reminded.

“I know concussion protocol, Nightwing,” Damian yawned, not moving his head from Dick’s shoulder.

He closed his eyes against the night air as they walked to where Grayson had parked his motorcycle.

“So the entire time we were fighting, you couldn’t see anything but blurred shapes and shadows?” Dick asked. “Dames we’ve talked about this, you have to tell me when you get hurt.”

“I was trained by the best to fight under any and all circumstances…including blindness. Saying something to you would not have changed the fact that I could not see properly or that we needed to contain the situation.”

“All valid points, but I still needed to know that your vision had been impaired.”

Damian said nothing in response. There was nothing for him to say to make this situation better. Voicing injuries was something Damian was still not used to actively doing in or outside the field. The more Damian thought about it, Grayson was one to talk. He had hid a stab wound for a solid week before Alfred noticed that he kept favoring his right side. Hypocrite.

“Do I even want to know the types of methods your mother used to train you to fight blind?” Dick asked, breaking the silence.

“No.”

“Tell me anyway…please.”

The exhaustion Damian felt in his bones wasn’t enough to filter all the words that came spilling out. The disorientation from the concussion was like a truth serum. He told Grayson everything.

“Most of the time it was a blindfold, sometimes Mother used…other means; that was how I knew to use the blurred shapes to my advantage. It took me two years to master the skill. I was finally able to do it the summer before I moved in with Father.”

Dick sighed. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, Lil’ D. What she did to you was wrong.”

Damian and Grayson had faced enough situations with his mother in the past to get the gist of her mentality for perfection where Damian was concerned. This however, was the first time he had spoken of her methodology in regards to his combat training.

“Her methods, though unsatisfactory in a conventional sense, did achieve the desired result. Mother demanded perfection in every capacity and used every scenario to her advantage to make me a better fighter. However, my actions tonight did not reflect her training.”

“No, don’t do that to yourself. You are one of the best fighters I know and you did awesome tonight,” Dick praised.

“Do not patronize me, Grayson. I did poorly. I allowed myself to be compromised putting you and myself in further danger. I was trained to be perfect.”

“Nobody’s perfect and I’m not patronizing you. You fought three guys twice your size relying on shadows and blurred shapes; that takes skill. A skill you mastered at the age of nine. You did great. I don’t think I could have done what you did.”

“Probably not. Mother would still have been disappointed in me.”

“Well, she isn’t here. I think Bruce will be impressed.”

Damian wasn’t so sure.

888

They got back to the Cave and Damian allowed Alfred and his father to make a fuss over him. They flushed out his eyes, but since he also had a concussion it left no change with the blurred vision, but the burning subsided.

Damian gave a full report of the nights events. When it came to retelling his fight with the three criminals in the warehouse he hesitated.  Dick sat next to him on the bed in the med bay encouraging him to continue his story. Damian was thankful that he couldn’t see his father’s face as he didn’t wish to see his disappointment. Once he was finished he turned his head away expecting to be admonished for his shortcomings on patrol.

“Wait, am I hearing this correctly that you fought three guys twice your size with your vision impaired and essentially used a form of echolocation to defeat them?” Bruce asked.

“Yes, it was part of my training with the League.”

“Son, I’m very impressed with what you did tonight.”

“But I failed.”

“No, you didn’t. Something like this could have happened to any one of us. I’m very proud of you.” Bruce praised, stroking Damian’s hair. “We will need to reinforce your domino and make sure that the lenses protect your eyes so this doesn’t happen again.”

A warm feeling washed over Damian as his father held him. There was no criticism laced in his words. No passive aggressive instructions on what he could improve upon next time. No tearing down of his capabilities and skills. There was only praise and most important of all, his father was proud of him.

“You are not angry with me?”

“Oh course not. I’m impressed with how you handled yourself and the situation. You did good, tonight, son. Now let’s get you to bed.”

He stood and swayed shutting his eyes tightly as his head started to pound at the sudden motion. The pain brought tears to his eyes.

Bruce moved swiftly to steady him and then picked him up gently pressing Damian’s head to his shoulder.

“I’m not a child. I can walk,” Damian sniffed, wrapping his arms tightly around his father’s neck and keeping his head on his Father’s shoulder.

“I know,” Bruce answered, rubbing light circles on his back.

Damian tried to keep his eyes open, but somewhere between getting into the elevator and into his room, Damian fell asleep.

[oki-writes]

Cover

Summary: You’re apart of a group that does song covers on yt.

Group Name: Sound Mind Spirits.

Members: Jiro & Shinso

You guys form back in middle school when you all start to take music lessons together

You used to like Jiro but she likes Momo so you’re trying to get over her.

Warning: Slight angst, fluff, mention of anxiety, cursing, & more to come

Pairings: Jiro x Momo, Shinso x Denki, Bakugou x y/n, Jiro x y/n (old)

“You don’t love me anymore...I still do”

3rd person:

“Hey (y/n) wait up for me pls” You turn around to see your tired looking friend “running” up to you. “Hey Shin, so what’s up” you noticed he had a serious face on. “Out of all the songs we could’ve picked from beach bunny you picked that one, why because you still have feelings for Jiro and I knew it hurts ,but you can’t keep it inside” with nowhere to run you huffed and looked at the floor.

“Well she’s happy with Momo and what we had was never official so I can’t hold her back. Even though we both loved each other I couldn’t commit to her. I was always busy helping run my family’s company. That’s not fair to her. So yes I still have feelings for her ,but she GONE, and yes she was my first love...you knew that they never last long. So please don’t keep bringing it up. I just want to be happy for once.” Your voice cracking at the end.

“I’ll find someone else one day maybe. This is what a reminder from the spirits that don’t let the one you love run away...haha I wish I learned that earlier”. Tears were already falling. “That’ll be the last sad song for a while okay Shin”.

Walking away before he could respond you went to the park. “Oi ghost girl why the fuck you crying at the park” you looked up and none other than mister hot-head himself.

“You know the usual Shinso figured out why I pick our latest song this week”

Baku’s per:

Dame why is she always thinking about that shitty earphone girl.

“Well I told him that was going to be the last time so I just want to get all my feelings out at once” (y/n) finally finished talking and rested her head on me. I slowly put my arm around her and pulled her close. Why can’t she see my feelings?

After a few minutes she started again. “There’s someone else who I like ,but I’m scared I’ll mess it up. Or worse lose them like everyone. Maybe next week’s song is a confession and then each week after that I give hints after a while I then tell them” she just kept rambling, but what got me was...

SHE LIKED SOMEONE ELSE. WHO THE FUCK IS IT. THEY BETTER LIKE HER BACK OR ELSE.

3rd person:

You fell asleep on Bakugou, so being the simp he is, he picked you up and took you back to the dorms. Walking in nobody was in there for the most part.

“Hey Bakugou have you se- oh never mind there she is”. He turned and looked to the side and saw Jiro. He doesn’t like her that much because she caused you so much pain without realizing it. “Yea what you want you see she’s sleeping so make it quick” he snapped. “Well I wanted to go over the editing I did for the video, but I’ll just wait. And thank you for taking care of her when I’m not around. She seems more happy when you’re around now-a-days”. With that Jiro walked away to go find Momo.

Bakugou went to your room to set you down. As he got to your door you called him in back to lay by you. He wanted to say “no”. But, he saw the tears fall down your face and he couldn’t bring himself to leave you like this. So he climbed in bed about to wrap his arms around you.

“Suki would you ever leave me” Bakugou stopped dead in his tracks and just stared at you. “Why the fuck would I do that ghost bitch. You didn’t leave me back when I got kidnapped so why would I ever leave you. Now come here and let me go to sleep”. Bakugou pulled you into his arms and rocked you guys back-n-forward to sleep.

In the back of his mind was what Jiro said to his when he walked in.

- Story details:

1. The name of their group each word represent one of their quirks. So Sound is jiro’s. Mind is Shinso’s. Last is Spirit which is yours kinda self explanatory. Fun fact that is part of my oc’s quirks

2. Jiro never realized that you still had feelings for her going into UA. So when Momo asked her out she said yes without thinking about you.

3. You’re quirk allows your “soul” to leave your body. So when Bakugou got kidnapped you sent your soul to go with Bakugou at the last minute. Doing that is super dangerous cause anyone could mess with your body so Bakugou appreciate you for that.

- Why this instead of my other WIPs:

* why because I can’t think what to write for my other serie Boke so I though of this and wanted to write it. This fic is just for when I can’t think so what to write for Boke so I’ll probably finish this way before Boke cause...I actually don’t know it takes me forever to write a chapter for Boke but what ever we got this now.

P.S Boke will be my MAIN SERIES so I’ll put more work into that then this so don’t expect long chapter pls.

Spanish word of the day: La canción - song

[artificialqueens]

Devoted: Postcard (Katlaska) - Kamylove

Fourth in my collection of unrelated Katlaska one-shot ficlets.

"Well hey there, toots. Can you tell me if this sinful show is appropriate for my sinful children?"

Alaska heard the familiar voice and looked up to see Jinkx hugging Katya.

"For your children, yes," Katya said. "For actual human children, try Scarbie down the street."

Jinkx feigned confusion and pointed in the wrong direction. "That way?"

"No. That way you'll only find rotted whores like Jinkx Monsoon." 

"Never heard of her," Jinkx said. 

"Scarbie's the other way and better than me or the rotted whore. But take this for after you drown your sinful children."

Jinkx accepted one of Katya's little postcard flyers. "These came out great!" they said. "The fake RuPaul quote from your YouTube series, oh my God."

Alaska couldn't see Katya's face but knew she was beaming. 

"Are you coming to the show tonight?" Katya asked Jinkx.

"Absolutely. It's the only night you're not my direct competition."

There was a pair of day-tripping women a few feet away who were showing interest in Katya; they looked like they'd escaped their kids for the day and needed a good drink and a good time. Katya offered them flyers and started her sales pitch. "Best drag show you'll see between 8:30 and 9:15 tonight within 100 yards of this location!"

Jinkx started on their way but heard Alaska shout, "Jinkxy!"

"Alooska!" Jinkx peered over the iron fence behind Katya. "I was wondering which suitcase she'd locked you in." 

They steered their bike towards the entrance and spoke briefly with the host, who let them wheel it into the outdoor bar area--completely against the posted rules.

"She's working hard," Alaska told Jinkx. "I'm hardly working."

Jinkx parked the bike with the kickstand and sat at Alaska's umbrella-covered table. "This does not seem like an equitable arrangement. I thought you shared the housework equally."

"I was a distraction."

"For Katya, or for the customers?"

Alaska grinned. "I can't help it if I can't stop laughing at her."

"Such a smitten kitten," Jinkx said. "Aren't you hot?" They were wearing pedal pushers and a light t-shirt under the red, windblown hair.

"Oh, my God, it's awful," Alaska said. She, stupidly, was wearing tight black jeans, a black t-shirt with Katya's face on it, and the black boots she wore everyday. "I figured, right on the water..."

"You incomer. The buildings block the wind. At least you're not in drag."

Alaska held up the roll of paper towels she was keeping on the next chair. Katya had used up half the roll and stuffed the sweaty ones into her bra, much to the amusement of passers-by. She was dragged up, wigged up, and wearing three pairs of tights but thankfully no sleeves while she hawked her wares on the sidewalk, a local drag tradition. 

"Poor thing," Alaska said. She tore off a wad and held it out to Katya, who took it without turning around. Then she put the paper towels with the stack of Katya's flyers on the table in front of her, well away from her iced tea and fries. 

"Your turn to suffer for your art next week," Jinkx pointed out. "How's the house?"

When Katya and Alaska had agreed to spend part of their summer in town--Katya performing solo one week, Alaska the next, and then a third week just for vacation--Jinkx had set them up with a realtor who, they said, worked with all the queens. Jinkx had been performing here all summer for years.

"The house is perfect," Alaska said. It was slightly run down in that beach house way, and the windows caught the breeze off the water. "There are so many hangers and wig forms, queens must stay there all the time."

"Think of all the filthy hookups that have happened on your bed," Jinkx said. "As soon as we all have a mutual day off, you have to come with me to see the sunset at Herring Cove."

"Deal," Alaska said.

A well-tanned waiter asked Jinkx what they wanted to drink. Alaska told him to add it to her tab.

"Well, there goes the neighborhood," another familiar voice said. 

"Varla Jean!" Alaska stood up to hug Varla and her husband and pet their dog. They already had a flyer from Katya, who had disappeared down the street to hawk some more. All part of the job.

"Are we still on for this weekend?" Varla's husband asked as they pulled up chairs and joined the table. Varla had been a Provincetown grande dame for literal decades, so she owned a little house here. They'd invited Alaska and Katya for brunch and an afternoon by the (minute, Varla had warned them) pool.

"Fuck yes," Alaska said. "I'm sure brunch will be lovely but I cannot wait to jump in a pool, my God."

"Always 15 degrees hotter on Commercial Street," Varla said. "I warned you!"

"So did I," Jinkx said.

"Everybody warned me! Katya warned me while I was getting dressed! I promise I've learned my lesson and I'll wear nothing but hot pants and flip-flops tomorrow."

Varla's husband spotted someone they knew and waved him over. It turned out to be the host of the longest-running show in town. Alaska was excited to meet him. She'd heard a lot.

"So you really can sit in one place and run into everyone you know," Alaska said.

They all said yes with varying degrees of enthusiasm and disgust. Alaska ordered them drinks. She decided she was going to like it here.

Her phone dinged. The text said, "DYING. Bring water and PT."

"I've been summoned," Alaska said. 

"By the Art House," the next text said. 

"I think she's trying to steal your customers," Alaska told Jinkx. 

"Gasp!" Jinkx said. "I'll walk with you."

They all said goodbye. Alaska bought two bottles of water from the bartender and told him to keep her tab open and add anything the table wanted.

Water, paper towels, and flyers in hand, she and Jinkx strolled down the street. Absolutely nobody took notice. The day-trippers didn’t recognize them out of drag, the gays and the locals were either respectful of their privacy or unimpressed (mostly unimpressed, Alaska was sure), and the summer workers were too tired from their three full-time jobs.

Katya, of course, stood out. 

"She really is trying to steal my customers!" Jinkx laughed when they saw where Katya was standing, right in front of a poster of Jinkx and her pianist. 

"Oh my God, thank you," Katya said. "Look! I've sweated out at least three gallons and I'm ruining my flyers!" She grabbed the water and started gulping down.

"But you look gorgeous," Alaska said as she took the damp and slightly warped flyers off of Katya's hands.

Jinkx waved and swung up onto their bike. 

"See you tonight!" Alaska called.

Katya was still chugging. Alaska handed her another wad of paper towels.

"Dying," Katya said when she came up for air, and started patting her face.

"I'm sorry. I should have been helping you."

"You really were a distraction. I wanted to tear your ridiculous clothes off as soon as I saw the first bead of sweat fall from your brow." She opened the second bottle of water.

"Well, my break's over," Alaska said. "Go back and cool off before the show while I talk you up out here."

"You're the best," Katya said. "Lazy as fuck, but the best lazy fuck." She took off her heels, took back the flyers, and set off for the venue in her stocking feet, swinging the shoes by the fingers of one hand.

Alaska only watched her for a second. "Best drag in town!" she shouted. "One-week engagement starting tonight! She'll make you laugh, she'll make you cry, she'll make you sick! Massachusetts' own, beloved of RuPaul, Kataya Zamolodchikova!"