#I've now learned to walk silently in spite of it when i want to

[itstimeforstarwars]

People at work can recognize me by the jingle of my carabiner that goes so fast because I walk like a city person but sometimes they mistake me for the other person who jingles as they walk, the cashier who has 542 pins on her vest AND a lanyard AND a carabiner.

[knullanon]

hi :) I was just wondering if there will ever be a part 2 to the New Year’s Eve post with doc oct? I really loved that one

sure! these are always fun for me because it's just thinking about an idea a little more, and its helps a lot that ik what I'm writing! I hope you like it!

New Years Eve Part 2

words: 1857

summary: almost a month and half after the incident during a New Years Eve party, you've stuck at the bottom of a river, learning math and ignoring the man who took you.

warnings: not any I can see, lmk if there are!

~~~~~

"If y= mx + b is similar to t(n)= CD^n, where would your common difference go?"

You looked at the piece of paper, before circling the CD option. Nodding, he continued, "And the total?"

t(n).

"And the term number?"

^n.

"Very good."

While you would find it a little helpful, maybe a little weird if it was a random teacher or student who had found out you flunked 8th grade math for the first semester, but with the Doctor Octopus now teaching you everything over again, you felt like a little kid.

Not only was it stupid in your opinion, it was embarrassing.

Doc Ock, as you loved to call him and watch his face turn into a mini scowl, picked up the papers and shuffled them together. His arms took them as he got up and walked over to his supercomputer, which looked like a 80 inch flat screen tv hooked up to an almost bigger keyboard. He typed something and it showed what looked like an evil version of Google Docs. He opened up a spreadsheet and marked something on "sequence generators", before he seemed to be choosing between "Transformations" and "Basics of Algebra". When he started to type between different columns, he spoke.

"This would go much easier if you would just speak."

Fuck you, you thought to yourself. Since he brought you here, you haven't said much, partly because the last time you tried to talk you almost broke down, and also out of pure spite. At the beginning it was almost awkward for him, just sitting in the doorway as you would just cry or yell at him. However, a little over half a month later, you would stop thinking about how much you wanted out, and try to focus on your absolute hate for him.

He stared at you, watching you just glare at him, trying to look as angry as possible, but to him you just looked like you were pouting. "You know, pouting isn't going to help either of us."

His arms started to almost curl in agitation when he saw you flip him off with both your hands, and he sighed before turning back to the screen. "We'll continue tomorrow, at 2 o'clock, just like today." He turned to face you again, "To which I hope, you'll be a little more eager than today."

You still had that pout on your face, glaring at him, and he simply laughed a little. If this is the best you could get to try and get him, you would be sorely mistaken. He's had worse done to him.

A call interrupted his thought, showing up on the computer. Martin Li. Ah. He had completely forgotten what had happened the previous month. And he also might've forgotten to call them for the last week.

He straightened his clothes, even if they weren't the fanciest thing in the world, before he answered the call. "Hello Li. What do you need."

Looking at the monitor, you could see that he was dressed in a fancy white suit, in what seemed to be a fancy boardroom, dark browns and blacks covering the room from the ceiling to the floor. It was a little hard to see anything besides the desk and Li himself, and it didn't help that the quality was worse than dirt.

"Octavious. You've been radio silent for the past while."

"I've been..." Otto gave you a side glance from his stance at the monitor, "busy."

Li remained silent for a moment, before continuing. "Well, I've called with good news and bad news. The good news is that the latest robbery of Rhino and Sandman has been completed and it's brought in a lot of assets."

Octavious nodded. "I'll be sure to give them a raise." He said jokingly. Li gave a small smile. "And the bad news?"

The smile disappeared almost instantly. "Spiderman has captured one of our bases outside of town. While he was interested in knowing about the robbery, it was clear he was there for the... kid."

Octavious raised an eyebrow. "What did he do?"

"Besides turning them over to law enforcement, he also interrogated them for information on them and their whereabouts. He wasn't able to get anything, but it's clear we need to figure out the situation sooner than later."

Getting up from his seat, Octavious walked over to the table where you sat and one of his arms turned off the video, purely because he realized there was no use in keeping it on an empty screen. "The situation is already figured out, is it not? They are here with me, as a hostage, and it seems to be working: Spiderman isn't causing as much ruckus as he would do normally."

Martin looked a little doubted, but he argued, "With all due respect, Spiderman has only really stopped because of the media bashing him open, and when he does attack our bases, he leaves them... like this."

An attachment was sent to Octavious, and he was not expecting the almost unrecognizable warehouse from one of their operations.

"While it certainly could be worse, with Spider-Man going completely crazy over finding this kid, we also need to figure out what to do in regards to this... situation before it gets out of control."

Octavious studied the monitor, the destroyed warehouse starting to burn into his mind, and tried to think of a reasonable response. If he did give Spider-Man what he wanted, it would help their situation a lot more, however if it would also show that he gave up easily, and he was also not about to lose you.

Martin Li probably noticed his impassive face, as he gave a small nod, "I'll leave you with the options. If you have another idea, put it into place and call a meeting. We cannot leave this issue for too much longer."

The call ended, and Otto was left to his own thoughts.

Should he give you up and continue with his life? Even if he didn't care for you, it would be like he was giving up, like he was on their terms, like he was weak. Otto Octavious was not weak.

He would make sure to show anyone who thought otherwise how wrong they were.

~~~~~

Surprisingly, if you did your work, which was basically just the whole year of 8th grade math, and some science, Doctor Octopus actually let you on his supercomputer. Rarely, though. You've only been on there once, with about 45 minutes to an hour of time to look at it before he pulled you back and you continued your studies.

Today was your lucky day, of being able to go on the computer for... he didn't give you a time limit, to be honest, but that didn't matter to you.

Before you were taken, you wouldn't have seen the appeal to a large computer that just looked like someone welded 15 hard drives and hooked it up to a giant keyboard and a flat screen TV.

But oh boy, it was a real treat to even be on it.

For starters, you were able to do whatever you wanted on it. You found out you can just steal someone's info on there just by searching up their name, so long as they lived in New York. Name, age, which area of the city, actual address, social security, you had no idea how, but it just did. It even had menial things, like if they lived in the city or if they liked one food over the other.

Another thing you could do on it was look up info about people's daily lives in general. From the looks of it, Doctor Octopus wasn't just some guy who had metal arms and fucked around at night, he was a crime boss. You were able to access every camera in the city, and zoom in, out, and if you double clicked on someone's face, it was smart enough to face scan the person and bring up their file.

It was kind of creepy, knowing someone had that kind of power against, well, anyone, but other than that, it was kind of fun to just go around the city, looking at people, and wishing you could talk to them. It was a form of entertainment to you.

Of course, you couldn't try to call for help. The computer, since it was smart enough to recognize someone's face through 5 pixels, was smart enough to know that it shouldn't call the police. Or let you email someone. Or let you make a twitter account (that last one was for fun, but still).

But the fact was, it was a form of entertainment. Scrolling through a random news feed, you saw a red alert come from the bottom of the computer. At first, you thought it was a notification, until you read it:

5 minutes before child lock down protocol begins.

You were almost mad if it didn't make you chuckle. You closed out of the tab, not wanting to look at the stupid message again.

"Why the long face? You seem to enjoy your time on the computer."

Turning to look at the Doctor himself, he was standing in the doorway, holding... a pan. With oven mitts on. It would've made you laugh had you not been almost enraged to see him.

You didn't say anything, only staring at him, which he returned. You stayed like that for a few seconds, before he moved to the living area portion of the room. He set down the pan, which you soon would realize was lasagna, and took off the over mitts, again, almost making you laugh, had you been calmer.

"I made you dinner." He stated, gesturing to the food on the table. You didn't say anything to him: you got up out of the chair and shuffled over to the table, pulling out a chair for yourself, and waited.

He walked past you, and towards his supercomputer. He dismissed the notification that popped up earlier and started to type some things in, bringing up a spreadsheet.

You were about to roll your eyes, thinking it was another chart about your progress, when you realized it wasn't a spreadsheet, it was a contact list.

He murmured something to himself before he pulled out an old flip phone, and dialed a number. You only watched him, as he pulled up the cameras you were just on and went to a warehouse, near the ocean.

"Li? I need you to send out Sandman and The Rhino to the warehouse on the ocean side. Have them completely wreck it and take whatever's valuable."

"What will that do?" Li responded, barely audible, but quiet enough to understand it.

"Spiderman will think that anything we do at the moment is connected directly to the hostage. He won't think twice about taking any chances with them." He pulled up another tab, which blinded you as the change from a dark harbor to a white screen burned your eyes.

"A distraction of sorts won't hurt anyone at all: especially not us."

--------

vv sorry this took so log to write but here it is! I hope to work on some other stuff before then, and hopefully it'll be quicker with others. love y'all ヾ(￣▽￣)

[cuddles-and-kisses]

So The Cat's Out Of The Bag,,,

Another fanfic for Agapito (an OC that belongs to @yandereaffections) The story starts under the cut. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 1,908 Trigger Warnings: Subtle yandereness, I can't think of any others

It’s 11 pm. I’ve been avoiding schoolwork all day and I’m in no rush to fix it. I've been writing fanfiction, of sorts, for the past 3 hours. On the bright side, the first draft is done! My back hurts from sitting so long while my butt hurts because I’ve sat on a wooden stool this long. I need to take a break but what to do? Oh, what to do? My weekly planner is wide open on a bookstand to my right. I could be productive, or I could keep avoiding them... So the planner is closed now. I’ve reorganized pens in a pen cup for the seventh time. Is there a limit to how many times a person can adjust a desk lamp before going insane? There has to be something else to do but what? As if on cue, my phone lights up with a text from my Baby. We’ve been official for 6 months so our dates are a lot more casual nowadays.

“Angel, I want attention. Unlock the back door” I’m aware it doesn’t seem like it but this is how he asks to come over. He won’t come over until I respond giving the green light. “Bold of you to assume I’m home and not partying at a random frat house” We both know I’m not doing jack at 11 pm on a Friday. Nonetheless, it’s fun to pretend I have a flourishing social life. “That’s cute. Back door please” Alright, now to get up and- ow, fuck, ouchie, ok, hold on. *POP* There we go!

I should probably pick my room up real quick. I made my bed earlier today so that’s not a problem. The svallerup rug from Ikea collects dirt a lot faster than I expected. Although would he really notice? It’s not bright in here. My dresser by the door looks fine. The futon is in couch mode, so there’s not much left I don’t have to clean up for him. In reality, I’m not cleaning for him, I just like having a clean room. The last thing I do is turn on the fairy lights above my head then light a vanilla candle. I know he’s coming over to cuddle or really do anything involving him getting affection. I might as well make my bedroom reflect that, right?

I half-jog upstairs to unlock our back door. Why the back door? It’s not because I love Jesus. Let me explain. The living room floor creaks way too loud. Also, my parent’s bedroom is right next to that door. The side door alerts our dogs to start pitching a fit. How can they hear it from the opposite side of our house? I may never be able to understand. Moonlight drifts halfway across the backroom. Sparse nightlights cover the remaining needed light. I flick on the backdoor lights followed by opening a few blinds to let more light in. Their orange glow overpowers the moonlight near the backdoor.

For whatever reason, the moon is far brighter tonight. Or my pupils are hella dilated because I’m thinking about my Baby. Either way, moonlight dusts over parts of the backroom and kitchen ahead of me. One last light to turn on. An LED light above our kitchen sink smashes through most surrounding darkness, making it almost impossible to see into the living room. White cabinets outline our kitchen. None of the cabinets match each other in this house. It’s as if this house was built in parts instead of planned out from the start. The counter is occupied with things you’d expect; a bread box, knife set, fruit basket, coffee pot, and an air fryer. Yet, there's evidence real people live here. Crumbs from a snack, mail by the fruit basket, half-empty coffee pot, as well as children’s toys forgotten all about

Everyone else is snuggled up in warm beds, sleeping. I can pick out each person’s snoring pattern when they poke through tonight’s ambiance. There are moments where quiet feels like serenity, others where it feels like emptiness. I can’t decide which one I’m feeling because I realize I’m about to have a visitor. A cup of coffee sounds like the perfect way to waste a few minutes while waiting for my lover.

Coffee cup out of the overhead cabinet. A coffee spoon from beside the coffee pot. Fake sugar off the shelves. Room temperature coffee in the pot from this morning. French vanilla coffee creamer out of the fridge. And just like that, a proper cup of coffee is served. Light reflects off the glossy coating painted over our pale coffee cups. Mom considers it a priority to have everything match or look cohesive. Appearing put together is a source of pride for her. A cup is a cup however matching cups make her happy. My ears perk up at hearing his tires pulling into the driveway. My coffee creamer swirls in the cup as he walks up the driveway. The coffee spoon clings against the inside of my coffee cup simultaneously with the creak of our back gate. All that’s left is to wash off this week’s coffee spoon then put it back. I have only a few more seconds until my Love is with me again. I’m a sappy and hopeful romantic for him, get off my back. He’s learned how to silently open the back door and if I didn’t have good peripheral vision, I would’ve yelped.

Intimate hands snake around my hips as a tender kiss is pressed against my neck. I can feel the tender smile tugging at his lips after the kiss, he had a really good day? His body is pressed against mine as he murmurs “Honey, I’m home~” behind my ear; earning a soft chuckle from me. I turn to face him, wrap my arms around his neck, and greet him with a deep kiss. This time on the lips. “Welcome home, my Love.” He’s so close to me, I can smell the cigarette he had on his way over here. The absence of alcohol or weed stench affirms he didn’t have a bad day at work. I can’t wait until these interactions become a daily occurrence. This man is breathtaking under normal circumstances; but, under the glimmer of moonlight,,, I can’t form a single thought while looking at him. The raw admiration and love this man holds in his eyes? Who could stand a chance against him? Not me. Wrong choice.

His hands linger along the sides of my hips. I hold his arms in an attempt to keep him close to me, just a little longer. “I brought you a few things. I’ll go set them on your desk.” He knows gifts aren’t my thing in spite of that he claims I deserve the entire universe. I breathed out, “Ok, I’ll be down in a minute,” then started moving to get my coffee cup, as well as a few snacks to bring downstairs. He starts heading downstairs content with how flustered I am. WAIT A FLUFFING MINUTE THE FANFICTION IS ABOUT HIM!! I whisper yell ‘Baby’ until his head pops back around the corner. I threaten him to not touch or look at my laptop. It was a pathetic attempt considering what he does for a living. In my defense, I tried. I forgot he’s in essence an overgrown teenager who will do the exact opposite of what he’s told. Wanna know what he does? Grin. I’m so fucked.

Agapito dashes downstairs and leaves me in unadulterated fear. I’m frozen in place, trying to come to terms with my fate as his footsteps fade. It’s not smut or anything, just a simple night and morning routine imagining that we lived together. This is going to be so embarrassing. Please spare me this treacherous fate and undying embarrassment. Deep breaths, just take deep breaths. Get your coffee then snacks then, simply, accept what’s just happened.

With arms full of snacks, I shut my bedroom door as gingerly as I can. Setting the cup on the dresser right by the door to make this a little easier. He’s standing at my computer, reading through the last page. Oh hey, he brought me Rolo’s as well as 3 Musketeers. Nice! Oh wait, he’s done reading. His shoulders aren’t tense; his breathing hasn’t changed; all the same, he’s just standing there. “Why did you write this out instead of doing it?” That’s a good question tbh. My Baby’s voice sounds hurt, despite that, he’s trying to hide it. Ok, he needs a hug. Now to throw the snack on the bed. He needs a rib-crushing hug and you bet your butt I’ll be the one to deliver. I tug at his elbow so he’ll face me then pull him into me. His shoulders are right under my chin when we’re facing each other. I bury my face in his neck while my arms hug him as tight as I can. Except why is he upset about this?

His love for me is nothing to scoff at. He loves me the same way he wanted to be loved when he was younger. We’ve figured out he’s catching up from his pre-teen years and onward. So about 13 years without a stable romantic relationship. When he was trying to court me I had to call him out all the time for manipulation. I know he’s terrified I’ll think he’s not good enough. He has episodes of frantic attempts to meet all of my needs, even if it’s not asked for or needed. What is going through his head? Does he feel like he’s not good enough? That he’s not loving me enough so I have to turn to a fictional version of him? Does he think he’s not good enough for me to do this stuff with him? None of those are true, obviously. I explicitly stated that in the story he just read. It doesn’t mean he won’t get stuck inside his head. I need to tell him the truth. Even if I wanted to lie, I couldn’t, he’s a finely-tuned human lie detector. One more deep breath. Squeeze him a little tighter. Look him in his eyes and come clean.

“The reason I didn’t just act these out is because, I didn’t know how to ask for it.” His expression shifts from confused hurt to understanding. I start rambling, “I want to have these experiences with you. I’d give anything to have that life with you but we've only been dating for 6 months and I just, wasn’t sure, how to phrase it.” I’m choking on my own pulse from emotions. I realize I was shifting my weight left to right when he pulls me in for another hug and kisses my forehead. We stand there in each other’s embrace for a few moments before he suggests I come to his house tomorrow night. We both know what he’s suggesting. I can’t help but adamantly agree. Excitement zips through my body thinking about tomorrow night. A smile pulls at my lips as I ask, “Do you mind if I wear this shirt tomorrow night?”

Tonight is about Netflix, snacks, and rediscovering the curves and contours of each other’s bodies. Though, not before I mess up his hair while calling him a butthead. It’s evident his insecurities are still tugging at him. Funny enough, his insecurities forgot they’re fighting against me for his attention.

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Could I please get a matchup for The Hobbit?

My pronouns are She/Her and I'd prefer a male ship. I'm really short, like under 5 feet, but I'm actually pretty masculine and forward. I'm very blunt but can be nervous when I first meet people. I'm training to become a Metalsmith but instead of making jewelry my focus is on swords and armor. I also really like getting messy and being outside and all that (everyone thinks I'm strange because I don't mind wet clothes at all). Being totally honest, my motivation is 90% spite by volume, so I like to prove people wrong. I switch between a neutral and chaotic alignment. I've been told I have "older sibling vibes" which I absolutely love.

I go by many different names, so it’s likely that different people will call me different things. I'm really working to build muscle because I feel best when I feel physically strong. I really love my friends and like comforting them when they need it. I swear like a sailor too and tend to have a witty and often dirty mind. I like making jokes, but I know how to be respectful and kind too. I'm also a Norse and Celtic Pagan.

Thanks so much, keep being awesome!!

fifth christmas matchup this year! if you want one yourself, check my christmas special!! thank you to everyone who has requested already, i hold all of you very dear~ your asks will soon be answered, please have some patience with me

I ship you with...

Thorin Oakenshield! 

- You meet him at his worst, and to be honest, at that time he’s not the type to fall in love with. He searches for work in your village, a dwarf travelling, a blacksmith so talented one can barely believe his blades. You’re the only one in your father’s forge that day, tinkering around a bit, a finished sword on the table that you proudly glance at every now and then. You’re old enough to work, barely twenty-five, yet not old enough to run the forge by yourself. So when Thorin asks for work, you tell him he’s got to wait for your father. But he’s there already, standing around rather uncomfortably, and it won’t hurt anyone to test his skills. He’s good. And he works shirtless. Which is even better. But his blades... yours is nothing in comparison to it. Your father is an ornamental blacksmith, focused rather on jewelry, but you’ve always wanted to make something actually useful. You see your chance, and take it. Thorin is a great blacksmith, talented, a concentrated and ambitious worker. He knows how to form armoury. He can teach you. If your father hires him. And the only problem with that is - well, him being a dwarf. 

- Instead of asking your father on your own, you take Thorin with you when you go home. It’s an awkward, silent walk, but you can’t bring yourself to quite feel like it is as you smile, thinking about what wonderful things you will be able to create in a few weeks. As you’ve anticipated, your father isn’t too fond of the idea of hiring a dwarf, but he’s quickly convinced when Thorin shows him the sword he’s forged just today. He won’t earn a lot of money, but he takes that knowledge with a curt nod and soon excuses himself before your mother is able to persuade him to have dinner with you. 

- Over the course of the next few weeks, you speak to him rarely, continue your usual life, but watch his work closely, observing, learning. You become better, but barely as good as he is. Your father talks to him even lesser than you do, but when your mother comes, sometimes you catch Thorin smile at her and thank her for the food she brings. One day, you’re taking your usual run, going through your usual training routine as you do every day, when you spot him in the forge all on his own. He stays late often, but he’s rarely there before you arrive in the morning, and it is just after dawn, not a usual time for anyone except for you to be awake and about. Curious, you enter, only to find the most surprising sight there. Thorin is working, but not on a sword, nor on armour. Instead, there’s a necklace placed in front of him, missing its jewels, but gracefully made. You approach him, and when he looks up at you, all sweaty and dirty still, he smiles for the first time. 

- He warms up to you eventually. It takes a month or two, but he ends up sharing your training, meeting you at sunrise for a sprint across the fields almost every day. Work becomes study for you as he shows you his ways, teaching patiently. And sometimes, it even turns into competitions. He notices easily how competitive you are, and he teases you about it whenever you lose to him, which only motivates you further. Far, far further than he anticipated. Eventually you start to beat him. Never in quality, but sometimes in time. He begins to smile, to laugh and to open up. In fact, the two of you end up so close that you spontaneously invite him to the tavern one day. You know that he has his room there, and it’s the only place to find ale in the whole god damned village, which makes it easily the best and really the only spot. 

- You also end up awakening in his bed the next morning. It’s quite the surprise, but a rather pleasant one. The whole relationship is new to the both of you, every kiss, every touch, every word a different, a new, a wonderful sensation that you get to experience with him. It never turns normal, even if you soon grow to find a routine, form habits. Thorin loves the way you can keep up with him both physically and mentally - your tongue may be sharper, your chaos more prominent, but it’s never too much for him, quite the opposite. He hates when you’re quiet because he knows then something’s wrong, except when you’re working. You’re a concentrated worker, and often he catches himself watching subconsciously, and then he smiles to himself and turns back around. 

- He teaches you how to fight once he realises that despite all your training, you’re barely able to wield a weapon. He isn’t an archer, but he’s good with a sword, and he enjoys teaching you. You’re a quick learner, but only after he says that he’s not mad if you can’t do it. He’s well aware that all of your motivation comes from challenge, and he’s more than happy to provide that. Especially as he sees you concentrate, following his instructions closely, soon almost equal to him. You ask at one point why he can do it, and the silence that follows would have told you enough, but he sits you down and tells you about it. About him. About why and how and what. 

- He spends a year with you there. One whole year, with your mother and your father, who both aren’t too happy about your relationship but accepting of it. And then his people remember, and they need him. You know that it breaks his heart to leave you, but you know that he’s incapable of leaving the dwarves. So you decide. Against a life that could have meant good work, good money, good standards - but never actual happiness. Because you’ve fallen for Thorin, head over heels, and you know that without him, life couldn’t be fulfilled. 

- He has his objections to your plan. But certainly not too many. The hardest decision is leaving your parents behind, but Thorin promises to you that you’ll always be able to visit and that you’ll go back and that it’s not goodbye forever. And so you go. 

okay first of all: sorry this kind of turned into a whole ass story??? idk what happened there tbh. also CAN I JUST SAY THAT EVEN THOUGH YOURE A HUMAN IN THIS HES LITERALLY STILL TALLER THAN YOU WHAT THE FUCK LMAO- HES LIKE 5′2 THATS HUGE FOR A DWARF AND YOU SAID YOURE SO SMALL BUT I WAS PLANNING TO PUT SOME HEIGHT DIFFERENCE INTO THIS AND *IT WASNT FUCKING POSSIBLE* alsooooooo i wanted to write more because i got heavily invested but i’m very aware that this is like, way too long already, and there would be way too much plot left to cover... just know that you’ll marry him one fine summer evening in the company of your parents as well as at least a hundred dwarves you’ve grown to love if you want to

[join-the-joywrite]

and I don't want to (but I love you)

@jatp-week Day 6: favourite trope

Not me doing a self-indulgent and stupidly long enemies to lovers au :>

Julie Molina didn't have enemies in her life. She had competitors, sure. Everyone did. But Sunset Curve took the whole cake. She didn't have enemies but Luke Patterson came dangerously close.

Luke Patterson, on the other hand, fully considered Julie Molina his number one enemy. He had zero qualms about saying that to her face and behind her back. He knew his band was the best but Julie had a real knack for knocking his ego down a bit and he hated her for it. Maybe he wouldn't get so riled up if she was nice about it or if not nice, she was less nasty and more stern. Honestly, it seemed like she took pleasure in criticizing Sunset Curve.

The rivalry between them extended to their bands and friend circles. Well, for the most part, anyway. Julie and Luke let Willie and Alex get away with their little forbidden lovers thing because they both thought the pair was cute together. It was pretty much the only thing they agreed on. Ever.

Willie only ever talked about Alex, not the band and Alex made sure to steer clear of mentioning Julie whenever he talked about Willie. The arrangement worked for all sides.

Julie and Luke's rivalry extended far beyond their music. It crept into their classes and had them fighting for the top spot. The teachers were thrilled. It meant Luke put in as much effort as he possibly could into every assignment or test. Even if it was out of pure spite, it was working.

And then, oh dear, and then there was a group project. Obviously, they split to opposite ends of the room with their friends to choose pairs (except Willie and Alex, who were shoved together and assured it was perfect) but apparently, it was important to learn how to work with people you dislike because in the workplace you might be forced to work with people you dislike -- or something like that.

Julie and Luke had never let their rivalry coerce them into doing stupid things -- except the one time where Carrie was convinced Luke could hold his breath longer and Julie almost drowned in the school pool to prove Carrie wrong -- but the moment they were paired up, Julie and Luke both wanted nothing more than to break several school rules, vandalism being the top one and starting violent fights being the second. It was unclear if they wanted to fight each other or their teacher.

Matters were made worse when their friends got to pair off together on their own terms while they were stuck with each other. The only thing keeping them from completely refusing to do any work was that they both were still competing for the highest scores.

Their friends had never been more entertained and the two opposing groups bonded over watching the two most stubborn people they knew suffer out a school project together. The clear awkwardness between them was hilarious and it was a pleasant thing to see them sitting at the same table and not trying to verbally murder each other. Bobby turned out to be the funniest person in the whole group. He had a meme-y caption for every moment they caught of Julie and Luke sitting near enough to have a normal conversation and the others loved it. He also seemed to be able to relate all the memes to the pair and was strangely good at photoshop, which earned him the Groupchat King title. (Julie and Luke were completely unaware of this groupchat excluding only them -- which, for the others' safety, was for the best.) Flynn's favourite was a photo of Julie with a feral look on her face, miming strangling a smug Luke. Me & 2020 was Bobby's winning caption. She wasn't sure which was which and that made it even better, in her opinion.

As the weeks passed, Julie and Luke's rivalry mellowed. As far as they said, it was still going strong but their actions told another story. There were playful nudges in the hallway, now. Teasing death glares across a classroom. Locked gazes and stifled giggles at inside jokes -- the fact that they even had those was surprising enough. They willingly shared a lunch table for the sole purpose of interrupting a mini date between Willie and Alex but most of it was spent in their own world anyway. Their mockery of each other had become gentler and more harmless teasing than anything.

And then one Tuesday, Luke didn't show up at school.

Of course, Luke's band knew exactly what was up, but they -- with support from Julie's friends -- decided it would be fun to play dumb and send Julie to Luke's house, just to check up on him, you know, despite the fact that the group project was long over and she really had no need to meddle further into Luke's life. The mere fact that Julie forgot she still had class and was seriously ready to leave immediately said a lot.

"I can promise you that it's really not as bad as it looks," Luke said from under several pillows, a puffy duvet and maybe three stuffed animals, "but there's no band practice today and I'm not coming to school tomorrow either so can one of you flick Julie's forehead for me? It's tradition."

"Band practice, huh?" Julie said, dropping her bag on the floor with a soft thud. "And here I thought you just had nothing more interesting going on in your life than disrupting mine."

Luke sat up fast enough that his head spun, his vision swam and two pillows fell off the bed. "Who told you where I live?"

"You did, dork. Here, I brought your homework and my dad's trying something out in the kitchen. He misread balf the recipe so it's the blandest thing I've ever tasted but if you're sick, it'll be good for you."

Luke responded to the bit that made sense. "I don't want bland food," he said, scrunching up his nose as Julie set a small stack of papers on the desk in the corner and walked up to him with a covered bowl.

"As if you'd know the difference. Your mom said you can't taste anything anyway."

"You talked to my mom?" Luke asked, looking mortified.

"Yeah, duh. What, did you think I climbed through your bedroom window? I don't care that much for you."

"Aww, I knew you cared for me."

Julie didn't respond to it. "So this is supposed to be a vegetable stew," she said, tapping the plastic wrap over the bowl, "but like I said, mistakes were made."

"Well, what is it then?" Luke asked, leaning over to peer at the bowl.

"I'd call it . . . semi-flavoured water with surprise veggies."

"Joy."

"I know, right? Anyway, I'll leave you to your . . . pillow fort? Cute stuffies. I have the same penguin."

Luke glanced at the penguin that was still secured in his arm. "Don't you dare tell your friends. Especially not Flynn. She's ruthless."

"She is not. But fine, only because you're sick. I'll be back for my bowl tomorrow and it better be empty."

Luke watched Julie leave with a look of amazement. As soon as he heard his front door close, footsteps pattered through the hallway, leading up to his mother sticking her head in his room. "I like her."

"I'm going back to sleep," Luke said, diving back into the safety of all his pillows, wondering if it was the fever or Julie that set his cheeks blazing.

Probably the fever.

"Good afternoon, dork. Reggie says you said you liked the semi-flavoured water and my dad felt very appreciated by that so he's made some actual stew for you to try. It's beef stew this time so please don't get surprised. Did you do yesterday's homework? You should, because I brought today's. How do you feel?"

Luke, who had been staring at Julie with his mouth slightly open in a perfect picture of surprise, blinked when he realised she'd stopped speaking. "Don't you knock?!"

"Your mom said you were asleep and I could just leave everything here for you but you were awake so. . ." Julie trailed off, shrugging.

"You . . . you are so strange."

Julie shrugged as she set the homework down on the desk and walked up to the nightstand to put the covered bowl down in Luke's reach. "You need to come back to school. I feel bad bullying your friends."

"I'm sure they'll be glad to hear that," Luke said sarcastically. He paused for a second. "Yeah, I did the homework. Most of it. My mom said it'll help to get out of bed and do something. I tried to play the guitar but she was adamant I didn't do that something."

Julie nodded and walked back to Luke's desk. She rifled through the mess and picked up all the homework. "I'll finish this essay for you," she said almost absently, searching among the pages. "Please tell me you did your science homework. I got a lot of that wrong and no one wants to give me the answers because apparently, I should learn my work."

"Uh . . . yeah. Um, yeah, I did the science. Wh-- what do you mean 'do the essay' for me?"

Julie looked up as she gathered everything into a pile of messy and uneven papers. "It's on the African American civil rights movement. It's factual and ninety percent of the class will have the same essay anyway so--"

"No. No, I mean . . . why?"

"Oh. Uh . . . why not?"

Luke didn't have a response, so he fell silent.

"Well, that's all of yesterday's homework. Get some rest and then make sure you eat. I can't have my favourite punching bag get too weak to take a hit."

As Julie turned and left his room, Luke felt the sudden urge to scream, so instead, he slammed his burning face into his favourite penguin. Yes, she had called him a punching bag, but she'd also called him her favourite.

"Music class just isn't the same without booing you. Also, Alex said you managed to keep the beef stew down yesterday so my dad thought you could try something a little heavier. This is an experimental chicken and fried rice . . . thing. I do not reccomend eating unless you're sure you're okay enough for a full meal. That said, I brought more beef stew in case you're not up for the chicken and rice."

"You can't just walk in unannounced!" Luke cried as Julie set down the two bowls on the nightstand.

"I can, actually," Julie said, flashing a set of keys at Luke.

Luke's jaw dropped when he recognized the keychains. "Hey, those are mine!"

"Wow, so observant. Your mom gave it to me before I left yesterday because your dad is at work and she needed to go out today and with you holed up in here, there wouldn't be anyone to open for me."

Luke frowned. "Oh, yeah, she said something like that but I was half-asleep."

Julie was pleasantly surprised to find Luke's homework neatly gathered at the corner of the desk. It didn't escape her how Luke seemed to glow with pride when she commented on it. She had to fight a smile as she dropped Luke's homework into her bag.

"Get some rest, dork. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call someone from Sunset Swerve. I'll be busy."

"It's Sunset CURVE and you know it."

"Really? I never noticed."

Luke pouted. "Tuxedo Sam says you're being very mean right now. I'm sick and I deserve care."

"Well, you can tell your stupid penguin that Skipper will beat his ass."

"You named your penguin after the penguins from Madagascar?"

"You call yours Tuxedo Sam."

"Yeah, okay, that's fair."

Julie rolled her eyes and turned to leave. "Take a nap, Moody McSleeveless."

Luke glanced at the penguin laying nearby as he heard Julie lock up the house again. "Don't look at me like that, she's mean all the time."

"I BROUGHT CAKE!"

Luke scrambled up, launching Tuxedo Sam off the bed. "Who died?"

"No one died," Julie said, picking up the penguin as she walked up to Luke's bed. "It's Friday and since you're doing a little better, I thought you could do with a small treat. Tuxedo Sam agrees."

"Give me back my penguin," Luke said, reaching both arms out to Julie.

"Did you do yesterday's homework?"

"Yes."

"Did you really eat both bowls of food yesterday?"

"Yes."

"And keep it down?"

"Yes, ma'am, now can I please have my penguin back?"

Julie passed Luke the stuffed animal. "You're adorable," she blurted, turning away immediately to hide her own stunned look. She cleared her throat as she headed to the desk to grab Luke's homework. "So, that group project? We got a ninety-five."

That distracted Luke easily enough. "What happened to the other five?!"

"We're very bad at teamwork," Julie said, glancing back at Luke over her shoulder to see him relax against the pillows.

"Ah. That . . . makes sense."

Julie nodded. "Mhm."

The silence that blanketed the room wasn't as awkward as it should have been.

"I have to go. Most of the teachers said it would be okay to get your homework on Monday, but Mr Hughes is on my tail about your chemistry paper. My dad is making cupcakes tonight for some reason and I told Willie he could have some, so I'll send extra with him to give to Alex to give to you, but enjoy that crappy store cake for now. I left proper lunch with your mom for when you feel like it."

It didn't register that the only reason Mr Hughes would be harassing Julie about Luke's homework was if Julie herself had taken responsibility for Luke. Well, it did register, but by then, Julie was long gone and the only response Luke could muster was a muffled scream into poor Tuxedo Sam.

"Oh, ew, gross. Luke, it smells like the middle school locker room in here. What were you doing?"

Luke had never looked more sheepish in his life as he pointed to the canister on his nightstand -- right next to his alarm clock. "My phone went off about an hour ago and I thought it was the alarm so I did the smart thing and slammed it down but I missed. Obviously."

Holding her nose, Julie dropped everything she was carrying on Luke's table and tore the curtains open, pushing the windows as far as they could go. She stood there for a moment, relishing in the fresh air. "I'll come back inside when I can breathe," Julie said, halfway out the window.

Luke wanted to melt into his pillows. A week later and he was only feeling slightly better. The pros of it was that Julie visited every day with something tasty and a level of snark that only amused him. The cons of it was that Julie visited every day and left him flustered and red in the face.

He firmly believed that Julie only came by every day because she had homework to drop off, but today was Saturday. There was no more homework to drop off.

And she could have just backtracked right out the door again but instead, she headed for the windows on the other side of his room. Why?

Because she's taking care of you, dork.

Luke couldn't help but think that the logical voice in his head sounded suspiciously like Julie.

"Hey, my parents have some stupid couple's yoga thing on Saturdays. Did you break in?"

Julie pulled the windows halfway closed and stepped back into the room. "No, I still have your keys. Your dad tried to give me the spare key to the front door but your mom said it'll be fine if I kept yours until you're back on your feet."

"Wow. She really trusts you, huh?"

Julie shrugged. "I'm a very trustworthy person."

"No, you're not. I saw you lose a pen that you stuck behind your ear and then you proceeded to lose three more by tucking them behind your other ear and in your pockets. You then tried to steal mine."

"I was fourteen," Julie said defensively.

"It happened last week!"

"I felt fourteen."

Luke gave Julie a deadpan look.

"Cute pyjamas."

"I know, right? Bobby got us matching ones when we were like fifteen for band bonding. I mean, I grew out of the pants but the shirt still fits."

Julie scoffed as she stared at the dark haired cartoon smiling at her from the pink shirt. "Looks really good on you, Skip."

"Hey, I like being Skipper. She's Barbie's most intelligent sister."

"Oh, yeah?" Luke didn't even notice that Julie had made herself comfortable at the foot of his bed. "And if you're Skipper, who are the others?"

"Bobby is Chelsea, 'cause he's the youngest of us, Alex is Barbie, 'cause his summer jobs have been everywhere, and Reg is Stacie, 'cause she's Bobby's favourite and Bobby's favourite bandmate is Reg."

Julie's head tilted slightly. "You sound drunk."

"The bottle said one teaspoon of cough syrup but I didn't read and I took two tablespoons. It's okay, though. Mom panicked and called the doctor and he says the cough syrup he gave me is for kids and I'm just really, really, really intolerant. Which you should remember for me because I plan to be super famous with the band and there are gonna be a lot of after parties and I don't wanna get drunk five minutes in. I think the cough syrup is kicking in."

"Luke Patterson, you are unbelievable."

"I know, right?" He attempted a winning smile, but it came off as plain childlike.

Julie chastised herself for finding him adorable. They were mortal enemies and she had to remember that. Then what are you doing in his room on a Saturday, after explicitly telling the rest of his band to stay away?

Julie found it unnerving how much the voice in her head sounded like a teasing Luke.

"You're like, really annoying."

Julie frowned. "I -- I'm sorry?"

"You should be." Luke was sitting cross-legged now, fiddling with the ears of a stuffed bunny. "It's really messing with my head."

Julie decided she liked tipsy Luke -- even if it was just cough syrup. "How so?"

"No, it's nothing."

"You can tell me, Luke. I promised not to tell anyone about your stuffed animals and I kept it, right?"

"Yeah, but this time the secret about you. You're not allowed to know."

Curiosity more than anything made Julie lean forward slightly. "It'll be our secret."

"Okay, but you have to promise not to talk about it."

Julie nodded quickly. Luke tugged at the bunny's ears for a moment.

"You're like . . . really pretty."

Julie couldn't help the soft laugh that bubbled out of her. Adorable, she thought.

"Like, a lot of pretty. You're pretty on the inside, too."

"On the inside?"

"Yeah. On the inside. You know, your heart."

"M-my heart?"

Luke nodded at his stuffed rabbit. "Yeah. You have a really pretty heart. It beats like a drum. Making music. Like you."

Julie's mouth hung open, surprise silencing her.

"You have the prettiest music in you. I can hear it like -- like a song that gets stuck in my head all day. It's really annoying but it's so pretty. It smells like flowers and it looks like butterflies."

At this point, Julie didn't think she'd be able to speak, even if she knew what to say. Luke was talking to the stuffed animal, frowning as he struggled to voice his thoughts understandably.

"Sometimes it's just so loud and I wanna cover my ears and run away but it just gets louder and louder and then you come over and you're saying something mean but the music is there and it's not so loud anymore but I still can't hear anything else. Your heart sounds like a ballad."

Julie was frozen to her seat at the edge of the bed. Part of her wondered if it was Luke talking or the fever. Part of her desperately hoped it was Luke.

"Julie, you are music."

It was a simple sentence. Anyone could have said it. It could mean a lot or it could mean nothing at all. If anyone else had said it to her, she would have taken it as the highest form of a compliment. But that wasn't what Luke was saying.

Everyone knew that Luke spoke best through lyrics and chords. His books and desks were covered in etched notes and scribbled words. Luke lived and breathed music. It was everything to him. Without it, Luke didn't know who he was.

And he compared it to Julie.

Julie stared at the text on her phone. She bit her lower lip, unsure of what to say in response.

Mom said you visited yesterday. I was dazed for most of it. I didn't say anything stupid or incriminating, right? Not that anything could be more incriminating than the three stuffed animals on my bed.

Ten minutes after that, another had come through. Jules, are you ignoring me? Did I do something?

Then another five minutes later. This is still Julie Molina's number, right?

Julie quickly typed out something before she chickened out again and tossed her phone to the foot of her bed once it was sent.

Hey. Got busy in the kitchen with dad. No, you're good. See you at school tomorrow?

Julie scrambled for her phone to send one last word.

A few streets away, Luke stared at the word 'dork'. He was sure he had said something. He vaguely remembered yapping on about music to Julie -- duh, what else did they share? -- and then suddenly, she wasn't there anymore. He wondered if he'd fallen asleep talking and Julie had left then or if he really had said something to make her leave.

Yeah, he wrote back, see you at school.

Luke cornered Julie as soon as he caught sight of her in the school hallway. "You've been ignoring me and I don't like that."

Julie squeaked. "I most definitely am not ignoring you."

"Julie, you're pretty much the only person in this school that doesn't keep their phone on mute or vibrate. I know you heard my texts yesterday."

"So what if I am?" Julie asked, folding her arms. "We're not friends, so why should you care if I reply to your texts or not? In fact, why were you even messaging me in the first place?"

While Luke fumbled for a response, Julie slipped past him and continued on her way to class.

"Oh, that is just rude!" Luke yelled after Julie.

She ignored him all through any classes they shared and when lunch rolled around, she made sure to sit with Carrie and Flynn at a small table. Luke had never looked more offended in his life as he joined Reggie in sitting with Alex and Willie.

"What did you do on Saturday?" Alex asked, leaning forward to whisper. "Julie was fine when she told us we don't need to come by at all."

"Julie told you not to come over?" Luke asked, ripping his gaze from Julie to Alex and then Reggie, who shook his head.

"Bro, she actually called Alex and told him that we don't need to come see you because she was going to."

"Yeah, I remember her being there but I was drugged up on cough syrup."

"Weak," Alex whispered loudly, grinning when he made Willie laugh.

"Maybe you said something?" Willie suggested.

"Yeah, probably! But she's not talking to me. She's not even insulting me, which I would very much prefer over this apathy."

"You know where she lives," Reggie said dismissively. "Maybe you should pay her a visit."

Luke glanced across the cafeteria to see Julie quickly whip her head down to stare at her fold. "Yeah. Maybe."

Julie was tired and wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. Her plans were thrown way off the rails when she walked into her room and found Luke petering around the shelves beside her bed.

"What are you doing here?"

Luke drew his hand back sharply. "Cute box. What's in it?"

"None of your business," Julie snapped, hurriedly closing her bedroom door. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk to you but you were ignoring me and--"

"You could've just yelled at me from outside," Julie hissed. "I would have come down to shut you up! You can't be in here. Get out of my room."

"No. Not until you tell me why you've been avoiding me since Saturday. Jules, what--"

"Fine! Go and wait for me in the garage. I'll come talk to you in there."

Luke hesitated, unsure if Julie was serious.

When she heard footsteps getting closer, Julie grabbed Luke by the neckline of his shirt and dragged him to the window. "Get out," she whispered hurriedly, "I'll come down to the garage, I promise."

Thankfully, by the time her father arrived, Luke was gone.

"Who were you talking to, mija?"

"Luke," Julie said with a smile. She pointed at the phone. "He liked the cupcakes I sent with Willie."

"Oh, that's great. You didn't take something yesterday and today? Is he feeling better?"

"Much," Julie said, nodding, "in fact, we have some talking to do, so I'm gonna meet him in the garage in a few minutes."

"So late?"

Julie absolutely could not lie to her dad. But she could do half truths. "It's a long overdue discussion."

"School work?"

Julie shrugged. "Music."

"Ah. The garage makes sense. Well, do you wanna take some food down? Midnight snack?"

"Thanks, dad," Julie said with a smile, "you're the best."

"Oh, your dad is the best!" Luke cried as soon as he saw Julie walk in with a plate of cookies.

"These are experimental, too. They're some kind of oatmeal and choc mint blend. They taste good, in my opinion."

"Everything your dad makes tastes good," Luke said, grabbing three cookies. "My mom's starting to get jealous of how much I love your dad's cooking."

Juli smiled and set the plate down on the coffee table. Was there any point beating around the bush? Sugarcoating things?

"You told me I was music."

Luke paused, one and a half cookies gone. "What?"

Julie kept her gaze trained on the tassels of the carpet. "You told me I'm annoying . . . because I'm pretty. Because I have a pretty heart. You said it beats like a drum and I have the prettiest music in me that gets stuck in your head. It --"

"Smells like spring and looks like butterflies. . ." Luke looked positively mortified.

Julie, refusing to look up, did not notice. "You said . . . you said my heart sounds like a ballad and then -- and then you told me I am music."

Had he really said all that aloud? Well, no wonder Julie was avoiding him like the plague.

Julie tensed up when she could see Luke's feet step in front of her. Almost every part of her screamed that this was wrong. They shouldn't be so close without bickering and fighting. But deeper within, beyond the confines of logic and sense, Luke's voice told her that this was the furthest thing from wrong.

"I said all that? Aloud?"

Julie nodded.

"You know what music is to me."

Julie nodded again.

"Jules," Luke said gently. "Julie, look at me."

Julie refused to, so Luke gingerly tucked his finger under her chin and lifted her head, waiting until her gaze fell on him before speaking.

"You know what music is to me," he said again, prompting another nod from Julie. "Then you know what you mean to me."

Julie blinked a few times and shook her head. "No. No, that's just the fever talking. You -- you didn't really mean all of that."

"If you really believe that, why are you avoiding me?"

"I . . . I don't know."

Luke dropped his hand to take hold of Julie's. He glanced at her, waiting for her to pull away. When she didn't, he interlocked his fingers with hers. "I meant every word. Okay, maybe not literally, but you know what I mean."

Julie shook her head. "We're not even friends, Luke."

"Hm, well, who said I wanted to be your friend?"

Julie wanted to hate Luke. She wanted to loathe the sight of him. She didn't want to like him, let alone love him.

And yet, she did.

So before the overthinker in her could stop her, Julie leaned up on tiptoes and brushed her lips against his. Luke beamed at her like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Not the response I was expecting, but definitely one I'm enjoying."

"Don't make me regret it."

"Yes, ma'am. Now, what are my chances of getting two more? And one for the road? Within the next five seconds becaus my mom doesn't know I snuck out and she think I'm still sick."

"Dork," Julie said fondly, shaking her head.

"I'm serious!"

"You can have two."

"Three."

"Two."

"Four."

"One."

"Two will do," Luke said, letting go of Julie's hands to wrap his arms around her. He gave her a small squeeze. "Plus a hug."

"Dork," Julie said again. But he was her dork and he was her favourite.

Before anyone comes for me about the cough syrup thing, I'm drawing from experience. I mean I never confessed my undying love for anyone but I did blurt out some weird shit. Also, THAT WAS LONG AND IF YOU SURVIVED THE ENTIRE THING, CONGRATULATIONS TO YOU

Mara's masterlist

[doyelikehaggis]

Rowing the Rarepair Rowboat: Klaus Mikaelson x Lexi Branson (The Vampire Diaries)

Requested by @insidious-wxlf

Klaus eyes the girl standing alone in the corner of the exhibit. He thinks the word "girl" lightly only because her face is surprisingly smooth and unblemished by the age that he's aware she possesses.

He politely excuses himself from his conversation with an over enthusiastic guest. She doesn't mind in the slightest when her agreement rewards her with a pleased smile that holds the potential of a promise of his return. He's not one to keep a promise.

The girl with the locks of golden curls just stands there, head tilting this way and that. Sidling up to her, he notices her even squinting her eyes a little bit with her lips twisted uncertainly.

"You're not impressed," he says bluntly, and knows he's guessed correctly.

The girl doesn't even turn to him. She merely glances with a sideways flick of her sparkling eyes, like bubbles in champagne, and gives a tittering smile. Familiar and infuriating at the same time.

"Now, did I say that?" Alexia responds.

"You didn't have to," Klaus says flatly, hands behind his back and doing his best to keep his face a mask so as to not seem wounded by the slight poking of a sharp dagger in his chest and his throat. "Your face said it for you."

"Well, I wasn't aware that my face had developed the unheard of ability to speak for me. And with my mouth closed, to add further astonishment."

Klaus rolls his eyes and sighs, already sick of their little game. He waves a hand at the canvas in front of them.

"If you're going to come here and silently judge my work, then, do tell, what exactly is it about it that you find so unimpressive?" he asks. More demands, but one never really demands anything of Alexia Branson. He's learned that lesson before. Many times.

Sure enough, she takes an extra moment to answer simply to spite his tone. He clenches his jaw but stays quiet, waiting.

Then she squints her eyes some more, gives another tilt of her head, as if really examining the flaws in the painting. Klaus even finds himself glancing over it uncertainly. Perhaps it wasn't one of his best. He does recall being rather frustrated with it during the process of creation, and there had been a light squabble between his siblings that he had been made to deal with in between. Maybe it reflected a little too much in his work.

Then Alexia says, with an air of finality on her descision, and extreme confidence, "It's too blue."

Klaus stares at her. "It's too... blue? Your problem with this piece is that there is too much... blue?"

"No, not too much of the colour blue," Alexia says, shaking her head, making those curls move with her, fascinatingly. "It's too blue. Sad. You may has well have just painted a big frown on it and titled it, "My Inner Soul"."

She turns to him and he finally sees the grin stretching across her delicately painted lips. A weight is lifted out of his chest and then he's shaking off his disbelief.

"You're mocking me," he scoffs, a low chuckle starting beneath it in his throat. "To my face as well, a very bold move, I have to say!"

It's her turn to roll her eyes now. "Oh, I'm so scared, Nik! What are you going to do? Kill the only person who actually buys your paintings? Now, would that not just be a poorly-thought out business move?"

She's turned to properly face him now, her head tilted again, and that smile still playing across her lips. It's impossible to hold any displeasing thoughts or feelings inside of him when it feels as though she can peer right into the soul that he questions the existence of. She doesn't. She has no doubt that it's in there -- she's told him as such, time and again, despite his protests and attempts to prove her wrong. She's so certain.

He sputters a bit, fumbling over his words, something in which she finds great amusement. And he finds fondness in her amusement, so really, he doesn't mind too badly.

"Now -- that is simply untrue! I have other buyers."

"Mhm." Lexi hums. "But if that's the case, then why have I been granted the absolute privilege of being allowed to remain... well, undead?"

Klaus considers it. In truth, he's snapped necks for lesser insults and grievances.

But he looks at Lexi, and his mind instantly softens his hands to caress the delicate skin of her neck instead. He can see the places where his lips have left love letters, once reread over and again, now tucked away beneath the surface of her skin to be kept secret.

An odd feeling posesses him for a moment longer than he'd like. Similar to the time one vampire got brave and made a grab for his heart, managing to get their idiotic little fingers wrapped around it for just a moment. They had just started to twist when their head had landed on the other side of the room, courtesy of a well-timed Elijah.

It's that feeling. The twisting of his heart, phantom fingers around it like it's some kind of ball for them to play with, just to give the strings a little tug.

It's an aching, hollow feeling right in his chest and down a bit, where no one should be able to reach.

He swallows and draws his eyes away from Alexia's unmarked neck, back up to her still sparkling eyes. She raises her eyebrows at his delay in answering.

"My god," she says, widening her eyes with feigned amazement, "I've actually rendered the great Niklaus Mikaelson speechless. I wasn't sure anything could ever make you stop talking -- if you don't inflate your ego, who else will?"

Klaus' mouth twitches at the corner and he allows the smile to blossom into another chuckle. He shakes his head.

"Precisely, my love," he says, but he is too soft, still caught up in his thoughts, where the desire to be gentle always won out.

Alexia doesn't bat an eyelash. "So, am I going to be walking out of Chicago with a head then?"

She's kidding, of course. Teasing him because they both know that he's never had a single desire for her pain in any form. Even the thought of it makes his gut twist like someone has stuck a dagger in it and forgot to remove it.

"I'd rather you didn't walk out of Chicago at all," he confesses before he can think.

This wasn't how things were supposed to be. Alexia was simply a fellow vampire he stumbled across during a darker period. Many vampires have come and gone through his many centuries, many during much worse times in his life, and yet she's one of the rare few who got stuck in his mind. Her gentleness, the way he softens just by being near her or thinking of her and how she'd react if he made a particularly unpleasant descision.

Finally, she's the one who's caught off her guard. "Oh," she flusters. "Um... I mean, I don't have to go right now. Kind of got forever. So... I can stay."

Klaus nods. "Good. I'd..." he clears his throat, but the words seem to have lodged themselves firmly in there.

Alexia's grinning again, leaning in closer. "What was that? That word you were going to say? You'd...?"

Klaus clenched his teeth again but it's partly to keep his smile from stretching like it wants to.

"I'd advise you quit while you're ahead, dear Alexia, or--"

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?" she interrupts. "You sound like your brother when you call me Alexia."

Klaus actually is wounded this time. "Point made. Lexi it is."

She smirks, and says, "Good. Now, you were saying that I should quit while I'm ahead?"

"Which would apparently be always," Klaus concedes.

Lexi laughs, looking rather pleased about it, too. Such cockiness on anyone else would infuriate him. With Lexi, it's more fond exasperation. If anything, it's a good look on her and one he always takes pleasure in.

"I would be very happy if you were to stay for a little while longer," Klaus says, finishing his thought.

Lexi beams at him. She tilts her chin up and takes his arm, surprising him as she hooks it over her own.

"Then it is a very good thing that your happiness actually means something to me," she says. "Now, show me the rest of your paintings. And I want less sadness! Show me your happiest one."

Klaus peers at her for a moment. She just smiles that beautiful smile at him.

"I know just the one," he says, and she gestures for him to lead the way.

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP Meme Lines from "AHS: Coven" Episode 8: "The Sacred Taking"

You don't go home till I say.

Make me fight for it

I'll carve you up in big thick slices, then plug every hole you got.

[NAME] set me straight.

You were never my friends.

You don't see me bitching out.

[NAME] filled my head with that bullshit, too.

That bitch will say anything if it gets her what she wants.

This isn't for you. Yet.

You just killed an innocent man!

This town ain't big enough for the two of us.

War is coming. And you're gonna lose.

I used to think I understood pain.

My body doesn't belong to me

The doctors say it's terminal.

Die before Thanksgiving, so none of us have to suffer through that mess of raisins and Styrofoam you call stuffing.

They say love is the best medicine.

You are so beautiful.

You're just a fool in love.

You like the way I look, take a picture.

I don't want you watching me decay.

Are you scared?

I'm not scared of dying.

I'm scared of living like this.

I wouldn't give anyone the satisfaction of me killing myself.

I'll stay alive just to spite them.

I just have to figure out which one of those little pecker-heads it is.

They worship the devil.

Look what they did to you.

You don't get it! They saved me!

Nothing happened in that house.

You brought this on yourself.

You had no business going that house.

You're unclean.

Take off your pants.

She's hurting him.

Let's get back to the battle plan.

I want to slit her throat.

You have to stay hidden until it's time.

She cannot know you're back.

We have one shot. That's it.

Our plan has to be flawless. So does the execution.

Failure turns this into a suicide mission.

You have to save me.

I knew the world could be a dark and evil place.

I tried to disappear into nature. But I have been found.

Aw, you probably have no idea where you are.

You've been through a terrifying ordeal, but you came back.

The cicadas have stopped singing.

Somebody is looking to kill me.

You were set on fire and left for dead.

Whatever troubles you had, they are ours now.

Don't worry. You're amongst friends.

I thought I'd never see you again.

Given my wretched appearance, maybe it's a good thing you're blind as a butter knife.

How did your hair grow back so quick?

What have they done to you?

I've lost my eyes.

Our journey starts today.

We're gonna be busy all night.

Why can't he watch porn and jerk off like any other guy?

Be good, baby.

We'll have fun later.

I feel like a queen.

You thought it was you, didn't you?

Well, I knew it wasn't you

It could be any one of us.

It's not a gift. It's a burden.

Now, give me your hands.

We're ready to begin.

Can you imagine those poor Salem witches, traveling all the way down here in covered wagons without a proper charcuterie platter or a bidet? Absolutely savage!

Does nobody see the flaw in this plan?

I just love this room, especially the walk-in closet.

I need that.

Surprise, bitch.

I bet you thought you'd seen the last of me.

How soon can you have all of your stuff out of here?

I really need my own room.

I can't wait to break it in.

What are you?

Who brought you back?

Looks like you've got some 'splainin' to do.

We all know the playbook on this.

I'm gonna bring marshmallows and graham crackers to make s'mores.

As my powers grow, yours fade away.

Let me break this down for yo, and stop me if I talk too fast; I'm in, you're out.

You can swallow these pills and go to sleep. Stop suffering. And stop our suffering. The choice is yours.

Is everyone back from the dead, or have I already died and gone to heaven?

That's not one of the choices, darling.

I have finally found someone I belong to. Someone I truly love.

No details, darling. I couldn't bear it.

I am very ill, [NAME]. I won't last long.

You haven't thought through this, [NAME]

You're still my beautiful angel.

This dream of a perfect love you're clinging to is just a nasty trick life is playing on you.

You will die the same way you lived your life; alone and disappointed by everyone.

What's the matter?

He won't stay till the end. They promise, but they don't.

You are nothing but an envious old bitch.

This whole room smells of death!

I'll die soon. I promise.

How'd it go?

Why can't it be me?

You have no style and your pits smell like fish sticks.

You guys suck balls.

Come hold this mirror for me.

Life is a carnival, [NAME].

I was so crazy about him.

Some play it safe on the merry-go-round, others go for the thrills on the roller coaster.

I mean, I could sit here and boo-hoo my choices, torment myself over the selfish detours I have taken. But what good

would it do now? Hmm?

Do me a favor, get me my fur from the closet.

It was preemptive, I suppose, my leaving. Get out of town before they run you out on a rail.

I've always been rigorous about not staying too long at the party. Bad form.

Know when it's over.

I could never pull off the corals.

You need to take this. We must purge you of this poison.

I was murdered.

I see everything.

I am finally trying to do something decent

You're making a martyr of yourself by giving up.

You've been tricked.

I won't permit it.

I don't understand.

They've been running a number on you.

They've been leading you to your doom with lies.

You've always been my silent sentinel.

Ain't they feeding you?

Whatever did I do to deserve this betrayal?

Didn't you like my pot pie and my peach crumble I learned how to make just for you?

You put me in here.

You can get me out.

This cage is just unfit for a human. Which is why it's so perfect for you.

You know, when I had the idea to have you brought back to me, I thought of all the many ways I could dispose of you. But I've found it give me great pleasure just to know you in a cage.

I'm not your damn maid!

I wouldn't be so eager to show my arrogance from that side of the cage.

What you gonna do? Kill me? I can't die.

Eh, throw me back in the box.

I seen enough of this world.

You think I only have those two choices?

The mistake you make is from a lack of imagination.

I'm not afraid of you. I wouldn't give you that satisfaction.

This gave me no satisfaction. But we've only just begun.

How dare you come into my house after what you've done.

Stay away from her!

I made you and I can unmake you.

Don't leave me!

It's Schubert's last sonata. It's all about acceptance of death.

This is so incredibly stressful and weird.

You don't feel anything?

My stomach feels like a storm's about to hit, but it's probably just my nerves.

I'm not exactly what you call a natural born leader.

Your feet should be getting warmer.

I'm told it starts as a tingle in the cooch.

You can't be in here.

We're under attack.

None of us are safe.

I might have slept until noon.

You didn't really make this coffee all on your own, did you?

If you're waiting for me to get down on my knees and beg for your forgiveness, you can forget it. It's not gonna happen.

Now you're proud?

[one-spidey-boii]

BUMMER SUMMER || peter parker; ch five

read ch four here

masterlist

an; sorry for posing so late in the day. i hope this chapter makes up for that. i love to hear your feedback!!

warnings; mentions of battle wounds (i.e. blood/scars/etc), future smut, mature language, fluff, angst, both peter and oc are 18+!!

word count; 2.8k+

edie's pov.

"this is pretty good." peter says with a little smirk on his face. his lips and nose are all i can see as he sits on the couch, still wearing his mask.

he takes another bite of mac and cheese before looking in my direction and shooting me a big cheesy smile.

once he came back i had to explain to him that i did indeed burn my hand on the hot pot of water, fully knowing he wouldn't let me live it down. luckily for me, i'm not the only one who had done something worth making fun of.

"at least i can let myself back into the compound without having to knock." i rebuttal and stick my tongue out at him, "and peter, take you mask off, it's weird watching you eat that way, just a nose and mouth and ew." i end my complaint with a fake shudder.

with an eye roll, peter pulls his mask off his head and takes a spiteful bite of his food. i chuckle at his behavior and excuse myself to the kitchen to clean up.

trying my best to keep my blistered thumb out of contact with anything, cleaning takes me a lot longer than i want it to. i'm about to start the dishwasher when i realize peter still has his bowl in the living room.

"you'd think mr. stark would have a robot to clean the dishes instead of-" i stop my sentence short when im confronted with an empty room, no peter. his finished bowl lay there on the coffee table, with the cheesy fork thrown messily next to it. with a grimace, i pick up after the boy and finally go to finish things up.

it's not like peter to be so...there one minute and gone the next. he's always the one to stick around after all the fun has been had and just, be there. but for the past day, he wasn't. and i know i shouldn't worry about it, being here specifically is stressful, but the more i repeat it over and over again in my head- the more it starts to sound like a really lame excuse.

i let my feet lead me back to my room, hesitating only slightly when i pass peters closed door. it's late, no use in trying to talk to him now. he just needs rest. we both do.

with that thought in mind, i make my way into my room, shutting the door behind me with a soft click. i'm already in pajamas, as i wasn't the one who went on patrol tonight.

my room is alarmingly blank. white walls, no pictures, no personality. at one point i plan to decorate it, and hopefully by then, peter will be comfortable enough to help me. a smile grazes my face when i finally sit down on the edge of my bed, it's comfortable, and i silently thank tony for providing the best for peter and i while we stay here.

i peer underneath the bed frame and pull out the black bag that holds my most valuable belongings. i unzip the top and pull out my utility belt, along with all my knives. i give an amused sigh as i think about people's reactions if they were to ever find these. i'll admit, i may have a few too many knives in my possession, but each one comes in handy every time i go out. and let's be real, you can't expect me to go around and pick up each knife i've thrown after every fight.

my ears perk up when a small creak comes from the other side of my bedroom door. the light in the hallway casts a shadow of two feet i can barely see through the crack along the floor. with my breath hitched in my throat, i slowly stand up to not make any noise.

i know the shadow behind the door is peter. and as i tiptoe my way over to the door, i keep a hold of the breath in my throat, so afraid to scare him away. he keeps moving his weight between his feet, causing the hardwood floors to creak with every adjustment. i move one hand to rest against the doorknob, the other barely skimming the white wood of the door. i let go of the air i’m holding and the movement on the other side halts.

i stop too, wanting him to knock or simply open the door. it has only been a day and the lack of interaction from peter is enough to pull on my heartstrings. much to my disappointment, his footsteps retreat back down the hallway and away from me for the umpteenth time today. leaving me to rest my forehead gently against the cold surface of the door.

peter's pov.

no part of me really wanted to leave edie after i finished my food. i wanted to stay and watch movies and tell her about my first night out. i wanted to see if her thumb really was okay. then the nagging part of my brain kicked in and suddenly i couldn't stand the idea of her walking back in the room, seeing me looking like the biggest idiot still in my goddamn suit.

it's small things like that that keep me from knocking on her door too.

i somehow find myself standing in front of her bedroom door. the time is almost past midnight and my hands are sweaty and oh my god there's a stain on my sweatpants and my hair probably looks a mess and i can't do this. i can't do this. what am i doing?

and then i know she's there. on the other side of the door, just waiting. waiting for me to do something, anything. i want to. i want to walk in and flop on her bed and just talk and smile and laugh at her bad jokes, but then she lets out a sigh. a sigh that tells me she's upset, or lonely. so i raise my hand to knock.

and i don't do it. i walk back to my room and close the door behind me.

-

a few awkward days into the future, i'm again- in my room. the past days rushed by as edie and i remained in our separate corners and patrolled when it was our turn, both afraid to make any sort of move, or at least, i was. small greetings in the hallway, eating dinner together in silence, and secret glances cast across the room were really all the contact we had recently. that was, until now.

she snuck up on me like a wild cat- stealth and agility giving her the upper hand as i made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the kitchen. just as i'm about to take my first bite, the entire thing is knocked out of my hand and onto the ground.

i snap my head up to see edie in her black suit, looking smug and proud of herself.

"no time for food, peter, we gotta train." she chirps at me with a smile that she tries her best to hide. i look between her and my ruined sandwich splayed across the floor, clear annoyance taking over my features. she chooses to ignore that, i guess.

"get that spidey suit on. meet you on the mat in five minutes," she calls out as she turns and runs for the training room. i let my eyes follow her figure until she's out of sight, only then do i turn to the mess on the ground and clean it up as fast as i can. i get ready faster than ever, eager to see what she has in store.

i slow down a few feet outside the door from my fast pace, not wanting her to think i'm too excited after she destroyed my afternoon snack. when i get to the room, she's nowhere in sight. looking back now, i don't know why i didn't see it coming.

with a soft grunt, she attacks me from behind and we both tumble to the ground, i'm trapped underneath her on my stomach as she holds one of my arms behind my back.

"gotcha." she whispers in my ear. i almost pass out right there from embarrassment, but i'd be lying if i said i'm not in the mood for some revenge for my sandwich.

i raise my free hand above my head and shoot a web that reaches the ceiling, pulling myself out from under her and away from her reach. with a sly smile beneath my mask, i taunt her, "come and get me now, wolfie."

then she does something i didn't know was even an option. she raises her arm and points it to the ceiling, a hook shoots out of her suit and clamps onto the concrete next to my head. with that, she propels herself upwards and grabs me by the ankle, ultimately taking me down.

now i'm overwhelmed by how bad i'm being beaten. i'm spiderman, why am i struggling so hard right now?

"i came prepared, parker. don't think i didn't learn from last time." edie teases as she walks around me in a wide circle. finally coming to kneel in front of me, she continues, "i have a proposal for you," she pauses to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, "we'll fight, one to one, no weapons or webs, just us. first one down for ten seconds is the loser."

suddenly wanting out of this situation due to utter embarrassment, i speak up, "well, damn, looks like i've been down longer than ten seconds, i must be the los-" she cuts me off.

"no no no, we'll wipe the slate. get up, mr. parker." she offers me a hand, which i reluctantly take, "and to make it interesting- if you win, i'll go on patrol for you tonight. and if i win," she pauses again, eyeing me up and down, "you have to tell me why you've had a stick up your ass this past week."

my eyes widen, i clear my throat and try to come up with a cover story in my head, "wh-what are you talking about? there is no stick up my-" she cuts me off. again.

"save it, peter. there is a piece of wood stuck up your ass and clearly, it's making you a grumpy boy. and hey, you only have to share if i win." she says it with a look that makes me swallow thickly, but i keep my facade up.

"alright then, let's do this."

with that, she unclasps the utility belt that hugs her waist and tosses it to the side, flinching a little at the harsh sound of sharp pangs of metal hitting the concrete. i can't just take my web shooters off, considering they were a part of my suit, but i pledge to her that i won't use them.

the fight is on when she begins circling the blue mat slowly. i follow in suit, raising my arms in a fighting position. in the moments leading up to the first move, i watch her figure waltz along the outskirts of the mat, her hips swaying naturally with each calculated step she takes. her eyes are trained on mine, or at least the expressive ones on my mask.

she charges at me with fire in her eyes, swinging two punches, one left and one right. i dodge both of them easily, simply stepping to each side as her fists fly past my head. edie huffs heavily and moves on to taking jabs at my stomach, only able to hit me once, but i'd be lying if i said it doesn't throw me off a little.

of course, with that moment of weakness, she ruthlessly grabs my arm and flings me over her shoulder, a move i'm growing to hate coming from her. once on the ground, she sits on top of me, thighs pinning down my arms on each side as she begins to count, "one, two, three..."

with a gruff grunt, i flip my legs up and around her neck, knocking her off of me and to the side as i scramble away from her. getting back onto my feet, i pivot around to avoid another angry punch that comes towards my skull. she throws one more, and i catch it in my hand, stopping her movement as she stares at me with shock.

i twist her arm behind her back and push her down on her knees, she lets out a yelp that hurts my heart, until she picks up one foot and jabs me in the leg, making me let out a yelp of my own. edie is instantly back on her feet and this time she goes for my legs again, lunging towards me and tackling me once again, "get ready to spill your guts, parker," she teases. "three, four, five..."

a horrible, mind-bending wash of nerves washes over me and as she gets closer to ten, the more energy i gather to get the girl off of me.

"seven, eight, nine..."

before she reaches ten, i mindlessly grab her by the neck and flip us over, slamming her back into the mat with more force than i realize at the time.

i immediately begin counting in my head as i hold her there with my hand, my arm shaking, breaths loud and heavy.

one, two, three...

her eyes are locked on me, she's wrapping her hands around mine.

four, five, six...

she's clawing at my hands, her eyes desperate and...

seven, eight, nine...

she's scared.

i fling myself off of her. my breathing still ragged and it hurts my lungs with every shaky inhale. i can't meet her eyes. not after they stare into mine with the only emotion i never wanted to see.

she's scared. of me. and suddenly i can't breathe. i collapse back onto the mat with a shallow thud, staring at the ceiling with a foggy haze clouding my vision. it's silent for a while, aside from the sound of our bodies struggling to fill our lungs with air.

"okay. i'm gonna head out. to patrol." edie's voice is soft and airy. and my heart is broken.

-

she left earlier than technically necessary. our patroling hours were from dusk til whenever it felt right to leave the city. she had been gone for a couple of hours and the sun was just now setting.

after what happened, i laid on the mat in the training room for a long time, not able to move as i processed the previous events. eventually, i got up. with sluggish movements, i arrived in my room and successfully stumbled out of my suit and into my bed. that's what i'm doing now. laying in bed and listening to soft music play from my phone, hoping sleep will take over my body sooner rather than later.

i roll from my back onto my side to face the nightstand next to me. a small glimmer of light reflects off of a small piece of technology. my comm. with a sigh, i reach for it and nestle it in my ear before closing my eyes and slipping away.

"pete? peter, i need you to listen to me. please be listening." a small voice pleads in my head. i raise my hand and swipe at it, as if it's a fly buzzing in my ear.

"come on. let me know you're there." the voice sounds off again. this time i open my eyes and acknowledge the words and where they’re coming from. i shoot up in bed, now sitting straight up, wiping the sweat away from my brow.

"edie? i'm here, e." i mumble, not trying to hide the worry in my voice.

she lets out a breath, "oh, oh good. peter i need you to meet me at the back door, the one in the garage."

i nod and spring out of bed, wasting no time to do what she's asked. "pete?" she whispers. it's so soft and so frail in my ear. i gulp nervously at the sound of it.

"i'm coming, hun. almost there." i whisper back as i round the staircase that leads down to the garage. there, through the glass doors, edie stands. more like leans against the clear surface with a weary smile on her face. i watch as she raises her thumb to the finger pad and the doors slide open. i watch as she takes a few slow steps to meet me. i watch her hands as they slide down her left side, coming back up, covered in blood.

and i catch her as she falls forwards, right into my arms.

|| taglist; @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines @whycantileaveyou @lovewolfspirit

let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist :)

[thiswreckageivebecome]

The Winter Soldier is Still Here (Part 25 - “Hail Hydra”) (Bucky/Winter Soldier x reader)

Description: You’re working at the local farmers market when you meet Bucky and catch his eye, not only because you’re the only one who sells plums, but because you treat him like a normal person. As a friendship begins to bloom, it quickly grows into a relationship and you learn that life with Bucky isn’t as easy it originally seemed. I SUCK AT DESCRIPTIONS!

Word count: 2044....a short one, I'm sorry, but I thought a short update might be better than none. In the words of Peggy, “It’s been so long.”

Warnings: Language.

Author’s Note: I don't own art.

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

READER POV

__________

I stared in disgusted awe at Jake. This...this was not happening. He was...

"Jake, " I asked almost silently. "Who are y-? Why? What is going on?" He scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Oh please, " he now spoke with a heavy Russian accent, "don't even start with dramatics and hysterics. None of that will help you. Nothing will, really. Oh, the Asset thinks he will save you. Hell, he probably believes he'll sacrifice himself for you, but no. He has no idea the storm that will soon hit him."

"But, Jake....you're...you're... what about the hospital? The hike? Our relationship."

"Oh, you thought that was real," Jake questioned in the voice I recognized. Then he laughed aloud. "Woman, you're a fool. The Asset really fucked you up, didn't he? You fell so easily into the trap. You've been the easiest target we've ever had. If you had left him be you'd have never become involved, yet here you are, still pining for him in New York."

I attempted to get up but the threatening tone that propelled itself at me stopped me cold.

"Don't dare fucking move, you bitch."

"I just, I don't understand. Any of it."

"Боже. ты идиот, но теперь долго, маленькая сука. Look, you're pathetic so I'm going to tell you this and then it's lights out. I'm not Jake. I wouldn't have such a trashy American name. You were the target to get to Barnes. Soon enough he won't remember you and you'll have no way of remembering him. Therefore, rest well knowing that you're the reason he will be serving Hydra once again."

As promised I was unconscious in the next second. The last thing I remembered was his cold hands around my throat and the room slowly dimming until there was nothing but pitch black.

BUCKY POV

___________

I ran to the weaponry faster than I had run in quite some time. I had to get to (y/n) soon. If I didn't get there quick enough, they'd kill her just for spite. As I got to the vault, a message came through on Steve's phone which I would have to steal. It was a location: Jumping Jack Powerplant. While the actual location of this plant had been erased from public record, I knew it well as the hideout Hydra had used when it was after Nick Fury and after its full control attempt at overtaking S.H.I.E.L.D. The location had to be close enough to D.C. to arrive in a short time yet far enough so that it was off of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar. I quickly grabbed all of my usual choices: Gerber Yari ll Tanto, SIG-Sauer P220ST, and Vz.61 Skorpion. To be honest, I didn't plan to put up much of a fight unless that's what it took to free (y/n) and get her to safety. Otherwise, I was planning to do what they asked but it was best not to go empty-handed. I closed the vault quickly and as I turned around Natasha was standing in front of me.

"Barnes, what's going on?" The tone of her voice told me she already had a clue.

"Nothing, Natasha. Don't tell anyone I'm gone. I have to go." I pushed past her but she quickly caught up.

"It's Hydra isn't it," she asked as she followed me down the steps. I'd make it downstairs quicker that way.

"Natasha," I called over my shoulder, "please, just go back and pretend you never saw me."

"No," she wouldn't leave me. I halted and turned to her quickly but before I could speak, she figured it out.

"They've got her, don't they?" Her words hit me again like a fresh ton of bricks, the reality sinking in more than it already had. I halted for a second to stop myself from stumbling as the weight on my chest began to cave in. I began to continue my descent but she didn't move.

"They're just trying to get to you, Barnes. They only want you."

"You think I don't know that? I don't care. I can't let her die on my account."

"Just so we're clear."

She quickly caught up with me and actually passed me. By the time I made it down she already had the vehicle pulled to the door.

"Get in." After I was in and the door just shut, "where to," she asked.

"Jumping Jack Powerplant. It's North o-"

"Of D.C. Yeah, I remember." I simply nodded. We rode in silence for quite some time. When we were about 15 minutes out, she broke the silence. "So what's the plan when we get in." I remained silent. "You do have a plan, right," she asked worriedly.

"Yeah. Kill anyone who gets in my way to (y/n)."

READER POV

————————

I awoke with bright lights shining in my eyes, lights so bright that I immediately had to squint. There was a beeping noise. It started to speed up and then I realized it must have been a heart monitor.

"The stupid princess awakes," Jake...or whatever his name was...spat. "The asset isn't here yet so you might as well calm down. No use in screaming either, no one will ever hear you and we made it where you can't reach your full voice anyway."

I tried to speak but no sound came out. I began to panic. What had he done to me? He smiled.

"You're one of the most stubborn women I've ever met. I just told you-you cannot reach your full voice, yet what is the first thing you try to do? You won't be able to scream or even speak for a while. You might as well calm down, otherwise, I'll put you back under." I attempted to calm down. I needed to be as aware of everything he would do as I possibly could. I tried to lie still and keep my face even and emotionless. After a few moments of this, he commented on it. "Hmm, maybe there's a reason you and the Asset got along so well. You're both able to turn off your emotion so well. Granted I'm sure the serum helps." I had to stop my eyes from growing and becoming restless again as he got ready to continue.

"You know, this little serum right here," he held up a syringe that held an almost clear, slightly blue-tinted liquid inside, "took us many years to perfect but once we did, we made vats of it. We keep it stored safely away in a top secret location, of course. I can't wait to use it on you. The ladies always have the best reaction," he finished explaining eerily. He began wrapping an elastic band around my arm and I couldn't remain calm any longer. I started to try and shake the table straps loose so that I could, in turn, get away. I knew it was useless but I had to fight. If nothing else, maybe I could keep him from getting whatever serum he was so in love with, within my body. I couldn't scream but that didn't stop me from trying. I could feel the tight sinched air attempting to scratch its way out into the warehouse but it wasn't going far. I didn't struggle for long. He stuck a different syringe quickly in my arm and there was the darkness that immediately surrounded me.

BUCKY POV

———————-

Natasha parked far enough away that we wouldn't be detected and I got into the driver's seat and drove slowly up to the building, on high alert for any sneak attacks. I knew Natasha wouldn't be far behind me, probably already making her way into the building before I pulled up and parked outside of the locked fence. After I took a quick observance of my surroundings, I got ready to jump the fence when the gate to my right began to open. They knew I was here. They had learned how to hide their cameras better than they had in the past.

I entered the grounds, even more, hyperaware of the fact that they had eyes on me even though I didn't have my own on them than I was before. After I had walked about 15 feet I saw them, I saw him. I recognized him immediately which was surprising considering I couldn't remember much else. As soon as he spoke I knew this was the man who had posed as Jake.

"Charscovsky."

"Soldier."

"What an honor that you'd meet me at the entrance, " I attempted not to sneer. All he did was smile mischievously.

"Oh, come now, Soldier. You act as though we weren't close once."

"You and I have very different definitions of 'close' then."

The eerie smile never left his face. He turned on his heel and began to leisurely lead the way into the building. As he led me in I noticed just the faintest blur of red hair to my left before I entered and I was grateful in that moment that Natasha had refused to be left behind.

"(Y/n) has had such wonderful things to say about you."

"Take me to her."

"Oh, now, now, Soldier. You'll be reunited soon enough. First, we need to discuss a few things."

"We don't need to discuss anything except you telling me where (Y/n) is. Once she's out of here we'll discuss whatever you like."

"You see, that was a huge problem that we never did perfect with the soldier serum."

He waited for me to respond but I refused. He stopped at a door and turned to look at me.

"You're not curious, huh? I suppose I'll say it anyway. It'll be valuable information to you very soon."

He paused again waiting for a response but when he realized I wasn't going to, that smile he had held for the entirety of the time since our eyes had met, began to fade which almost brought one to my face.

"Whether you're curious or not, Soldier, what I'm referring to is the ability to negotiate. You see, we didn't think about that at the time. Elimination and defense were the prime qualities we wanted but now, looking back, I can see it is something we will need to work on in the future. I imagine you'll soon wish we would have too." He arrived at a door and stopped. Four guards stepped between us as he leaned down and pressed his face to a retinal recognition. I suppose they knew I would be tempted to attack and dissemble in order to get to her if he were left unprotected. I heard the door unlock before opening into darkness. My body tensed as I didn't know what this meant. He waved off the guards so that they walked behind us and he led the way into the dark.

I then heard two thumps on each side of me. I turned, fully alert, ready for a fight, but instead, I saw nothing but as the room lit, a dash of red flew past me and took down Charscovsky, pinning him to the floor.

"Oh," he smirked, "Ms. Romanoff, what a pleasant surprise."

"Where is she?" Natasha sneered.

"Oh yes, you have become fond of her too, haven't you?" Natasha pushed down against his throat more, so that he had to put more effort into continuing, "не волнуйся, ты скоро ее увидишь." He smiled again, mischief playing happily across his eyes. Natasha stood and jerked him up along with her. I stepped to him, toe-to-toe. "Where the hell is she?" I was now snarling. He smiled and remained silent a moment. He was clearly enjoying himself.

"Oh, зимняя принцесса," he said louder as if he was calling to someone else.

"What?" Natasha quickly questioned.

"No," I said, not wanting to believe what he was saying. Fear and anger took me over. My vision blurred. "No!" I exclaimed, pushing him into the wall to my left. My left hand grasped his throat, the metal plates of my arm shifting to strengthen my grip. All the while he smiled.

"Bucky, what is it? What's he saying?" Natasha asked, worry filling her tone. She didn't have to wait long to find out.

[queercapwriting]

Pretty pretty please can you write something where Alex and Kara see Maggie when she's on the heavy bag or upset and Kara goes to comfort her but Al's like 'sweetie, I've got this' and it's sweet and comforting and amazing and I've been crying since I woke up this morning please give me something fluffy!

Kara knows something’s wrong the moment she enters thebuilding.

Maggie’s heartbeat is steady, but elevated, hard, and whileshe’s generally learned to avoid walking into Alex or Maggie’s places – or herown bedroom during game night – when their heartbeats are quick and rapid,Maggie is alone.

She’s alone and loud hip hop that Kara can’t identify ispounding along with a rhythmic thudding.

Kara sighs.

Maggie’s working on her heavy bag.

Normally, Kara wouldn’t give it a second thought – Maggie lovesthat thing – but she’d had breakfast with James this morning and he’d regaledher with tales of how hard Maggie had just pushed him – and herself – in thegym.

So this probably isn’t her regular workout.

She gives up on the door after it becomes clear that Maggie’snot going to hear it, so she jets around the building and raps, instead, on theliving room window.

Maggie’s face – sweat-streaked with focused, furious,intense eyes and messy hair swept off her neck in a high bun – doesn’t changewhen she sees Kara, and she doesn’t stop bouncing on the balls of her feet.

But she does tug at her gloves with her teeth, and she shedsone to yank the window open for her girlfriend’s little sister.

“Need something, Little Danvers?” she yells over her music,glad she doesn’t have to turn it down because of Kara’s superhearing. Withoutwaiting for an answer, she replaces her glove and goes back to slammingcombinations into the bag, working on her breathing and hip rotation withsingular focus.

Kara watches her for a long moment.

“How do you do that? Alex says I always drop my leftshoulder before I throw a punch, that it gives me away.”

Maggie sighs and gestures Kara in front of her, stillweaving up and down on the balls of her feet.

“You shouldn’t have to drop your shoulder because it shouldn’tbe up like that to begin with. Keep the tension in your core, not yourshoulders.”

She reaches around Kara’s body and hesitates before touchingher. Kara nods, suddenly breathless, suddenly shy, and Maggie is somehow both gentleand firm as she shows Kara with a splayed hand on her stomach, how to brace herabs, with gently tapping fingers on her shoulder, prompting her to relax it.

“Good, Little Danvers. Now when you punch, try not to sendmy bag through the wall, okay?”

Kara grins and pulls her punches, and Maggie surveys herwith sharp eyes.

“You seemed pretty in danger of putting it through the wall yourself,Maggie.”

She catches the question in Kara’s voice, and she grunts andshifts Kara by the hips to the side so she can go at the bag again.

“It’s nothing, it’s whatever. Just a workout.”

“I heard you already had an exhausting one this morning.”There’s no judgment in Kara’s voice, just concern, but Maggie launches a roughroundhouse kick at the bag anyway.

“Our line of work, you can’t train too hard.”

“Actually, you – ”

“I’m fine, Kara. What did you need, anyway?”

Kara slips her phone out of her pocket and texts Alex asMaggie launches a new assault on the bag.

“Winn and I are in the mood for pool, and we wondered if youwanted to come.”

“No phone?” Maggie asks without looking at her, and Kara’sheart threatens to break, because she knows her sister’s girlfriend isbreaking, but she doesn’t know why.

And her worst nightmare – both of their worst nightmares,she imagines – is not knowing how to help.

“You weren’t answering.” Kara finally reaches over and turnsdown the music, because her own senses are starting to overload. Maggie opensher mouth to object, but glances at Kara’s face and nods immediately, silently,like she understands without needing an explanation. Because she does.

Kara finds herself hoping that her sister marries thiswoman.

Maggie keeps her gaze on Kara’s face and her eyes softensomewhat. She stills for the first time since Kara flew in and rips off hergloves with a sigh.

“You ever just… for no reason, everything feels like theworld’s ending? Except it’s not actually?”

Kara nods softly, slowly. “This one of those days?”

Maggie just stares at her face for a long moment, like she’sevaluating how much she wants to risk, and before she can decide, Alex’s keyscrapes the lock.

One look at Maggie’s somehow both guarded and open face, thesweat pouring down her body, the slow swiveling of the heavy bag, and theconcern in Kara’s eyes tells her everything she needs to know.

“Oh sweetie. I got this.” She strides over to Kara,squeezing her hands and kissing her cheek gratefully. “You wanna go get us sometakeout?”

“I’ll go to that organic place in Austin, okay?” she tellsMaggie, who fights tears and shakes her head, struck silent by the way theDanvers girls just… want to care for her. For some reason she can’t fathom.

“You don’t have to, Little – ”

But Kara’s already kissed her cheek, smiled softly at hersister, and flown back out the window.

Silence rises in her wake, and Maggie goes to put her glovesback on.

“Whoa whoa, okay,” Alex reaches out with gentle hands tostop her. “You don’t have to talk, babe, but you need to be gentler with yourbody, okay? Can you do that for me?”

Maggie stares at the ground and Alex kisses her forehead.

Maggie backs up.

“I’m all sweaty and gross.”

“Sweaty, yes. Gross? No. Never.”

Maggie sighs and Alex waits until she knows Maggie’s readyfor a tiny push.

“One of those days?”

Maggie nods, humiliation written everywhere on her body, andAlex’s heart shatters.

“Well, Kara will be back in a little under an hour. You knowwhat that gives us enough time for?”

“I’m not really up for sex, Danvers.”

Alex pffts. “No! Here, you shower. It’ll help. I’ll warm thetowels for you. And I’ll have a surprise waiting when you come out, okay?”

Maggie sighs skeptically, exhaustedly.

“Do you trust me, babe?”

Maggie nods, because if she’s not beating the life out ofsomething, it’s about all she can do.

“Good. So go. Shower.”

She does. She does and she hates every moment of it, especiallythe parts that make her feel somewhat, somehow, better.

But her throat unsticks and when she steps out of thebathroom in the tank and boxers Alex had slipped in and left for her, shespeaks, because she panics.

Because her studio isn’t all that big, yet she can’t seeAlex.

Alex, who told her to trust her. And yet she couldn’t seeher anywhere.

“Alex.”

“Down here, babe!”

Alex’s voice is muffled and the smile in it, the barelyrestrained, bursting enthusiasm, is so clear that Maggie’s lips start tiltingupward of their own accord.

“Danvers, what – “

Because as she rounds the couch, she finds Alex buried in afort made, it seems, of every single pillow and blanket Maggie owns.

“It’s the Bad Day Tunnel. Or hole. Or fort. Or burrow. I can’tdecide what it should be called. Kara would always call it the Fortress ofSistertude, but I very much don’t want you to be my sister, so I figure weshould come up with something else.”

In spite of herself, Maggie plops down in the fort next toAlex, who tosses a blanket over her shoulders and lets her lean into her body.

“What does one do in the Bad Day… thing?” she asks in amonotone, because she’s scared that if she allows any emotion into her voice –like the overwhelming feeling of being cared for, being heard, being seen, thatAlex is giving her so perfectly – she’ll break.

“One has a bad day. It’s where you go when you’re extra sad.You can do anything you want in the fort. Drink scotch – don’t worry, thescotch is for you, I brought myself root beer – ” And sure enough, there arebottles and glasses in the center of the fort – “and when Kara gets back, eatfood. There can be music and there can be crying and there can be yelling andthere can be cuddling, and I brought tissues and your favorite stuffed animalsand your phone in case you want to just zone out and scroll through Instagramor something.”

“So basically you made me a depression tent. Where I can bedepressed and it’s okay.”

Alex’s eyes fly wide, thinking that Maggie hates it.Thinking that she’s messed up, thinking that she’s hurt her more, offended her,been insensitive to her, not heard her.

“Yes?” Her voice is small and her voice is terrified, butthen Maggie’s soft lips are on hers, and it’s one of the softest kisses they’veever shared, because Maggie has the energy to beat a heavy bag senseless butshe doesn’t have the energy to sustain a passionate kiss, so Alex lets it staysoft, stay gentle, stay tender, stay perfect.

“I love you, Alex,” Maggie whispers into her lips, and Alex swearsshe won’t cry.

“I love you too, Maggie. However you feel, whenever you feelit.”

They’re both asleep in the depression tent when Kara returnswith three heaping bags of takeout, and she smiles and sets the bags down andcrawls into the fort, the tent, the safety, with her sister and her futuresister-in-law. Alex feels Kara’s warmth and hums happily, shifting in her sleepso Kara can slip onto Maggie’s other side and help Alex hold her safe, hold hersteady, hold her loved.

[amberwolfmoon-blog]

I didn't realize how bad I needed to hear this until I read it aloud. For as long as I can remember, I have always struggled so much with my hair. I remember it being long when I was little, matching the sun & dust, always blowing in the wind. I never minded it then, when it was just flowing.

The second my mother pulled out the curling iron & shaped my head like I was Shirley Temple, pulling my hair up in the tightest pony tail, or worse pig-tails, possible. I always felt like my scalp was going to rip, anxiously waiting for her to leave the bathroom so I could pull out the 80's-hair-tie-giant-bow aesthetic she had going on. I would gather the curls in fists, opening my hands enough to catch the water & squeeze. I hated those curls.

When I got older & more in charge of my hair, I decided to chop it all off out of spite, resentment for those years of tortured curls bows, & because I've always known that I was MORE than just a girl.

My Mom reminded me constantly growing up how I would huddle up with the boys when they were called round. When I was picked for skins, stripped my shirt like everyone else-- I just happened to have this long kickass hair.

When I hung out with the triplets & would spend time with them, I would always come home with their underwear on-- claiming that I was just like them. All responses were volatile & left fingerprints on my arms.

When I got my first mohawk, my girlfriend paid for it. I had never been so proud to walk in there with her, dominant, strong & proud to be queer. I left the store floating. Only to be slammed back to earth in the McDonalds parking lot when my mom picked me up & the vile look on her face left bruises on my heart. I silently slipped on the dress for Easter; purple pastel with petite flowers.

Every time I changed for her, my mother, I lost my girlfriend. I couldn't see at all how brainwashed, how forced I was in every decision to think of her, instead of my own wants & desires. I regret not recognizing the love I was given, the chances... all of it. Years later, I see how I've ruined every relationship I've ever had, not even aware that it was my fault. I never meant to be a conditional lover, I was just never taught the right way to love. I never learned to trust.

Years later, now staring at my son, I want him to hold onto the morals, values-- everything that I was never taught. I want him to know what freedom really means; in the world & in yourself. What having a voice means. How to accept love & how there are so many different kinds... & that the simplest loves are the best kind & to never, never, ever, let go.

There's so much that's been stirred up for me. So much more than I anticipated, but I am grateful for the realization it's time to start digging deep again.... ❤🧡💛💚💙💜

your hair doesn’t invalidate your gender identity