#and again the difference between Go and Perfect is so so so incredibly stark that you can tell he must have done sooo much introspection

[protobrieile]

maybe i should make a masterdoc. we used to have a ff nilex masterdoc and that was fun

[softestqueeen]

slipping and gliding pt. 1

pairing: natasha romanoff x afab!reader

summary: When the Avengers spend a day at the local water park, you start to see a certain redhead in a different light. You’ve never had anything with a woman before, but Natasha doesn’t mind showing you what feels good.

warnings: 18+ MDNI!! semi-public sex, fingering, shower sex, inexperienced reader, shy reader, kissing, pet names (sweetheart)

wordcount: 2053 words

a/n: Yess, finally I’m writing something that’s wlw! I’ve wanted to do this for quite some time, and this is the perfect scenario. Enjoy <3

After a few incredibly stressful weeks, filled with mission after mission, Tony Stark decided that the Avengers needed a little break. So, he did what was every teenagers wet dream. (pun intended)

He rented out a whole water park.

Jup. The whole thing, just for the lot of you.

But you didn’t mind it. You could lounge around, eat for free at the buffet, and when laying in the sun got too hot you could go for a swim or try out the huge slide, which was the highlight of the park.

You, the other girls of the team, and also a few of the other SHIELD agents, like Maria Hill were lounging around, when you suddenly had the urge to go down that huge slide. It just looked like so much fun and you definitely needed an adrenaline rush that was not induced by the possibility of getting killed.

You got up, announced to the group that you would check out the slide and off you were. After a few meters you noticed someone joining you.

When you looked to the side you saw your colleague and good friend Natasha Romanoff falling into step with you.

“You can only use the slide with someone else. There are only swimming rings for two. But I’ll gladly go with you.”, after that the redhead sent you a wink and a smile. Only a small whispered ‘thank you’ left your lips before you looked ahead of you again and got lost in your thoughts.

Did she always look this good? This was the first time you noticed how smooth her hair falls over her shoulder or how beautiful the head looks that sits on that pretty neck. Her skin was flawless, and she looked like she just stepped out of a magazine. You could see why she was called the most beautiful Avenger.

Did you feel attracted to Natasha? No, that’s impossible. You’ve never felt something for another woman, nor had something with one and you and Nat were only friends! Why did she suddenly make you feel this way?

It seemed like it was only getting warmer and warmer and you were glad that you were about to go on that slide and get into the icy water.

The two of you were silent on the way up, the stairs seeming to stretch into eternity. But before you could overthink your feelings even more, the two of you arrived at the top and the instructor showed you how to sit down on the swimming ring.

Nat sat down into the first opening, and you sat down in front of her. You both laid down flat and you laid onto her, your head between her boobs and your lower back touched her most intimate parts.

Being this close to her made you feel some kind of way. You didn’t have too much time to think about it though, because in the next moment you were sliding down, and all other thoughts were gone.

You and Nat enjoyed the short but exciting ride, screaming in excitement . You hit the water and felt Natashas body covering yours before she smoothly slid up from you and dived to the surface. You followed after her and when you both resurfaced and made eye contact, you broke out into laughter.

It seemed like everything went back to normal, though you still couldn't get her out of you head and stop your racing mind.

You returned the ring and made you way back to the towels and lounge chairs. Once there you grabbed a towel and a fresh bathing suit.

“I’m going to head to the lockers, I need to put on a dry bathing suit.”, you told Nat before heading to the building where the lockers were. There were also showers and changing rooms inside of it, so all of it was easily accessible.

You entered the building and went to the showers. Putting down your towel and dry change, you were about to take off your bikini when you felt two hands grabbing your waist and turning you around.

You could just make out Nat’s face before she pressed you against the wall and pressed her lips to yours. You let out a surprised gasp before you got lost in her taste, her scent seeming to overwhelm you. She grabbed your waist again and pulled your wet bodies against each other before she grabbed your ass with her free hand. The sudden action made you gasp, and Nat didn’t waste this opportunity to slip her tongue into your mouth.

Her hands start to roam your body and you were getting dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

When you both pulled away, Nat whispered against your lips. “I know you want this too, sweetheart.”

You just nodded, not listening to what she was actually saying. You just wanted, no needed, to feel her lips against yours again. You put one of your hands on the back of her neck and the other one went to her waist.

You pulled her in and connected your lips again. Both your and Nat’s hands were now freely roaming and groping each other. You were sure that the wetness you were feeling did not just come from the pool.

You were kissing a little more before you felt Nat’s thigh between your legs, pressing up against you, stimulating your clit and making you moan into her mouth. She kept on moving her thigh and squeezing your hips, holding you in place. It didn’t take long before you felt Nat’s hand roaming again and wandering towards your middle.

You were quick to catch her wrist, stopping her from going any further. She pulled away and looked at you, puzzled, because she thoughts that’s what you wanted.

“I’m sorry Nat. I haven’t done any of this before.”, you told her while looking at the floor, not daring to look into her eyes that you were sure were filled with anger towards you.

But Nat was having none of it and put a finger under your chin, tilting your face up to meet her understanding and soft gaze.

“You’ve never had sex before? Sweetheart are you a virgin?”, she asked you without a hint of deception in her voice.

“Well, I had sex before, just never with a woman. I guess in that aspect; yea, I’m still a virgin.”, you answered with a sheepish smile and a blush on your cheeks.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make you feel good. Trust me.”, she whispered against your lips before she kissed you again and you believed her every word.

She kept pressing her thigh against you and you slowly started to meet her thrusts and grind down on her, slowly gaining more confidence.

Her hands started roaming your body again, while you were still holding onto her neck and waist. Her hand was slowly wandering towards your core again, but before she touched you, she pulled away.

“Is it okay when I touch you here, sweetheart?”, she asked you.

You just nodded before pressing your lips against hers again.

Her hands travelled towards your wet pussy, going under your bikini bottom. You let out a soft gasp when you felt her hand moving between your folds. She tested out the waters by spreading your wetness around, caressing your folds before making contact with your swollen clit.

Feeling her at your sensitive clit made you moan into her mouth. The kiss wasn’t as heated anymore but slowed down felt more intimate. Her thigh stopped pressing against you now that her hand took over.

She removed her hand and pulled away, making you whine and chase her lips.

“Patience, sweetheart.”, were the only words that left her mouth before she opened the strings on your bikini top.

Her thigh went back to your cunt, stimulating you while she started caress your boobs. She slowly traced them with featherlight touches before she went over to straight up groping you. You let out moans and whimpers at the stimulation you were getting both from her thigh and her hands.

Her hands on you felt incredible and you wished you could feel her on you forever. She leaned forwards and started to trail kissed over your boobs and over your sternum. Your hand moved from her neck into her hair when you felt her lips on one of your perked nipples.

She slightly sucked on it and circled her lips around it, just how you imagined she would do it with your clit. The thought of her mouth on your cunt made a new flood of wetness rush to your core.

She repeated the same treatment on your other breast before she completely pulled away.

“How about we take this to the shower?”, she asked you with a smile on her face.

“That sounds good.”, you answered her, but you were quickly left speechless when you saw Nat taking off her black bathing suit.

She was breathtaking. She was always beautiful but seeing her completely bare was something else. The soft curve of her breasts and hips, her toned stomach and legs that seem to go on forever.

She took your hand in hers to lead you to one of the showers and once she turned around you could see a small tattoo adorning her lower back. That simple fact made her seem even more human and vulnerable, the fact that under that beautiful façade was a human being that had gone through so much.

But once she put on the shower and you felt the droplets of water gliding down your bodies all other thoughts were erased from your mind. All that was left was the sight of Natasha under the stream of water, momentarily closing her eyes to feel the warm water.

You joined her under the spray, pressing your lips against hers. She was quick to press you against the wall again, immediately taking over.

The kiss got more intense, and her hand went to your pussy again. She started to slide between your folds and circled your clit, finding a steady rhythm.

Once you’ve gotten used to the feeling of her hand against you, Nat took it a step further. With her middle finger she entered your tight pussy, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. She slowly started to pump her finger in and out of you, slowly adding a second finger while her thumb was stroking your clit, and her other hand was groping your ass. Your hips were moving against her hand and your wet bodies were pressed together, gliding over each other, the steady stream of the water only made it more sensual.

When she added a third finger you could feel the coil in your stomach starting to tighten. Nat could feel you clench around her fingers and started pumping them faster, also adding to the pressure on your clit.

You came with shout that was muffled by Nat’s mouth, while she was gradually becoming slower, helping you through your orgasm.

Once you calmed down, she pulled her fingers out of you and gently cupped your face. She pecked your lips before pulling you completely under the stream of the shower with her. She left for a moment, getting some shower gel that was provided and started washing you, her hands gliding over your body making you all worked up again. She lathered shampoo into your hair, massaging your scalp and making you melt into her hands.

Once she was done, you felt the urge to feel her body again, so you gave her the same treatment; gently washing her body and her hair.

Nat pecked your lips once again, before turning off the shower and getting a towel, drying your body and hair before doing the same with herself. Both of you got dressed in some dry clothing.

But before the two of you left the locker area, Nat turned to you.

“How about we cut this little trip short and continue with what we started, sweetheart?”, she asked you, a breathtaking smile on her lips and no shame about her suggestion.

“There’s nothing I’d rather do.”, you truthfully answered before taking her hand in yours, excited about what she has in store for you, once you were back at the tower.

a/n: i'm thinking about writing a part 2, so please tell me if you's like to see/read one. i hope you liked this, if so please leave some notes, likes, reblogs and comments! feedback is very appreciated!

please also consider supporting my ao3: @ softestqueen

part 2

taglist: @silvermagnolias @milywatermelon @BigBananaa

[multi-fandoms-posts]

The Professor and the Stark Heiress

X Men Masterlist

The New York skyline gleams in the last rays of the day as Y/N Stark enters the exclusive restaurant in a simple yet elegant dress. Her heart beats faster, though not because of the curious glances that follow her. This is the first time she’s going to a public dinner with Charles Xavier. Until now, their relationship had been a well-kept secret. But tonight, that would change.

Charles is already waiting at the table, calm as ever, as he sees her walk in. In his perfectly tailored suit, he looks just as regal as when she first met him. She sits down across from him, offering a brief smile, and for a moment, it feels like it’s just the two of them in the room.

"You look stunning," Charles says softly. "But I’m not surprised."

Y/N raises an eyebrow slightly and leans back a little. "And you look like this isn’t your first fancy dinner." She gives him a crooked smile, her tone playful, but the tension between them is palpable.

Charles smiles and takes her hand. "Well, I’ve grown accustomed to a certain elegance over the years." He pauses briefly, his eyes searching hers. "But none of it compares to you."

A smile spreads across Y/N's face. "You’re incredible, you know that? A professor who can not only read minds but always finds the right words."

He chuckles softly. "It’s not just about words, Y/N. It’s about what we have between us."

The waitress arrives with the wine. Both fall silent, but their gaze remains as intense as before. Y/N lifts her glass and takes a sip, her eyes never leaving Charles. "You know, my father’s going to freak out when he finds out."

Charles nods slowly, his brow slightly furrowed. "I’m aware. Tony Stark isn’t exactly known for handling surprises well."

"That’s an understatement," she murmurs with a smile. "But I don’t care. Not when it comes to you."

Charles reaches for her hand again, his touch gentle yet firm. "I knew from the start that you were different, Y/N. But also open to what most people reject or fail to understand."

She squeezes his hand tighter. "I’ve seen enough of the world to know there’s no perfect moment. You just have to create it."

Charles nods, pride and admiration lighting up his eyes. "That’s one of the qualities I admire most about you."

Their conversation is interrupted by the bright flash of a camera. The photographers have finally noticed they’re here. Charles and Y/N exchange a glance, and she grins at him. "Well, there it is. Welcome to my life."

He smiles back, utterly at ease. "I’ve been preparing for this."

Yet their eyes remain locked on one another. In this moment, surrounded by whispers and cameras, they feel oddly insulated. It’s as if they’re the only two people in the room. The rest of the world fades away.

---

After dinner, they return to Stark Tower together. The city sprawls beneath them, lights twinkling in the distance. Y/N leans against the large window in her penthouse, gazing out at the skyline. Charles stands beside her, his eyes on her instead of the view.

"Sometimes I wonder how this happened," she says quietly, her voice thoughtful as she continues to look outside. "I mean, you and me... It’s just..."

"Unusual?" he finishes the sentence for her.

She turns to face him, looking directly into his eyes. "Yes. But it feels right."

Charles steps closer to her, his hands gently resting on her arms. "It’s unusual, but that’s what makes it so special." He lifts a hand and brushes a strand of hair away from her face. "We’ve both chosen paths that aren’t easy. But I think that’s why we understand each other so well."

Y/N nods and places her hand on his cheek, her touch tender. "I feel like you’re the only one who really understands who I am. What I want. What I need."

Charles smiles and leans in closer. "I do. And I’ll never let you down."

She closes her eyes as he kisses her, gently but with a passion that makes everything else around them disappear. His lips on hers are like a promise, one that words could never fully capture.

The kiss deepens, the outside world fading entirely from their thoughts. She feels his hands on her waist, pulling her closer. Her breathing quickens, and as they pull away briefly, she whispers, "Stay with me tonight."

Charles looks at her, his eyes filled with affection and desire. "I’m not going anywhere else."

---

The next morning, sunlight streams through the large penthouse windows. Y/N still lies in Charles’ arms, the sheet loosely draped over both of them. She blinks sleepily, savoring a moment of peace and contentment.

"Good morning," Charles murmurs, already awake and watching her.

She smiles and snuggles closer to him. "Good morning."

For a while, they say nothing. There’s no rush, no expectations—just this moment they share.

"The world will be talking about us today," Y/N finally says, her voice quiet but calm.

Charles gently runs his hand down her back. "Let them talk. As long as we know what we want, that’s all that matters."

She lifts her head and looks at him, her eyes fixed on his. "I know what I want."

"And what’s that?" he asks, his smile soft but curious.

"You," she replies without hesitation. "I want you."

Charles pulls her even closer. "Then we’re in agreement."

The day may be starting outside, the world may be waiting for them, but in this moment, it’s just the two of them, knowing they’re ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead together.

---

In the weeks that follow, Y/N and Charles are frequently mentioned in the press. Some call them "the strangest couple in high society." Others admire their relationship—two of the world’s most powerful minds, united by an unexpected love.

Tony Stark remains surprisingly quiet. But one day, he invites the two of them to dinner.

"I figured it was time to meet my son-in-law," he jokes half-seriously as they take their seats in the Stark Tower dining room.

Y/N and Charles laugh, but they both know this is just the beginning. Their relationship may seem unexpected to the world, but to them, it’s exactly right.

And so begins a new chapter in their lives—one filled with love, challenges, and a future they’ll face hand in hand.

[quinnfebrey]

Hi! How was the show? Like is it good being an updated version? Did it work well? What are the songs? How were the performances?

hi!! it was amazing!! i paid $180 and i can say that if i lived in nyc i would definitely pay to watch it again from different angles!! it’s a circular theater and would honestly feel like a brand new production just from a different seat

romeo and juliet is so widely known and so trope-infused that, at least to me, it can feel like a drag to watch sometimes? like, i have at least 30% of it close to memorized, and i’m not a shakespeare connoisseur by any means, it’s just that known. i think that revivals of plays like r+j are best judged based on whether they are able to breathe new life into the story, and i can say that this one absolutely did

overall:

the staging and lighting is SO magnetic and engaging. there is a lot of audience interaction and full use of the entire room, not just the stage. the actors constantly moved around, engaged with the audience, climbed up and lowered down. the staging was entertaining and fresh, and i felt more absorbed than i ever have in a stage version of r+j. the modernization was fresh without being forced, and i absolutely love how this version REALLY brought out the humor, which i found was perfect at making the lines more digestible on first listen and also lessening the This Is Sad energy

performances:

rachel zegler: when r+j bway was announced, i was one of many severely disappointed that rachel’s broadway debut was not going to be a singing role, but *spoiler* she sings twice in this version and is fantastic both times. she plays juliet’s youthful determination very well, and her diction is incredible. amazing chemistry with kit. i think misogyny and trope creation often waters down juliet to just a Girl In Love but this one was far more than that. you truly feel like she has her own agency and maturity without either of those things taking away the devastation of her youth. rachel was born for the stage, i NEED her to be the next eurydice and would fly back to nyc just for that if she did

kit connor: i haven’t seen heartstopper outside of the “hi” “hi” memes so i was a little nervous about whether i could take kit seriously but he absolutely killed it. he brings so much humor to romeo in a way that accentuates his youth and makes his naivety and impulsivity far less irritating. romeo is too often played seriously through and through and to me it makes him unlikeable and unsympathetic. kit leaned into a softer, funnier side that worked very very well. he has a voice made to deliver shakespeare and a great stage presence, i would honestly love to see him in more plays

tommy dorfman: double cast as the nurse and tybalt, i found tommy more enjoyable as tybalt. the nurse was played a little bit too young but i think that might have been done to make it more obvious when she was the nurse and when she was tybalt. i love the inflections she put into her lines in both roles, and even if i didn’t vibe with her nurse i think that is more a personal opinion than a review of her talent, and if you DO vibe then you will probably LOVE it

gabby beans: double cast as the friar and mercutio, i thought she did a great job adapting the integrity of the shakespeare to a modern interpretation. i did find her friar a little bit unmemorable and will remember her as mercutio with more specificity

sola fadiran: double cast as capulet/lady capulet he was AMAZING. those are generally just exposition roles (in my opinion) but he did a fantastic job at bringing more to it. particularly the scene where capulet tells juliet she is going to marry paris, the starkness between his two roles is so apparent and such a mark of talent

taheen modak: such a fresh benvolio, this role needs perfect chemistry with romeo and he absolutely had it. they were just bros being dudes and i found all of their interactions so so good, touching when necessary and funny when possible. i think that benvolio can sometimes be seen as just Romeo’s Friend but this one was truly his own character

the music: it was good but jack antonoff is really only capable of making one song so it kind of sounded like romeo and juliet with midnights instrumental in the background lol. which isn’t to say it was bad, but it was very Jack in a way that i wish it felt more anonymous

tldr:

so so good! must see if you’re in nyc. worth the trip if you are a shakespeare, rachel, or kit fan. go in with an open mind and be ready to feel more engaged than you probably ever have watching shakespeare

[sugutoad]

matchup trade for @daemontargaryennn !

GAME OF THRONES MATCHUP

Significant Other

We’re just two broken people in love trying to heal each other, and despite everything, we don’t want to be with anybody else.” ― Claire Contreras

I ship you with… Jaime Lannister (the golden boy who puts ‘slay’ in Kingslayer). This immediately seemed like a perfect option for you! He is a person who is incredibly confident like you, but also a mess of insecurity. Because of this, the two of them can truly understand one another and heal each other. Instead of the narcissistic love he shared with Cersei, in you he would find someone similar to him, but also so different. In you, Jaime finds a person he can go to and tell everything without the fear of being judged.

RUNNER UP: ROBB STARK AND OBERYN MARTELL

HEAD CANONS

When you stole Jaime’s heart, he could not do anything properly. Jaime is a charmer, sugared words flow from his tongue naturally and he has flirted with you before in platonic manners. But the second he was in love with you? The kingslayer could not form a single sentence while stumbling or smiling like an idiot. With Cersei, he was always natural because they were born together and he wasn't truly in love with her. But you? You put him under some sort of… magic. On the other hand, you were not any better. You were prone to falling more around him by stepping in the wrong way (once you slammed yourself into a pillar while looking at him). You changed around him too and you became more awkward. Somehow, neither one of you noticed these changes while everyone had to suffer at your oblivious hearts. 

As cliche as this sound, this is a forbidden romance between a knight and a noble! As a I of the Kingsguard, he had sworn that he would live without any lovers in abstinence. You were already married to Jaime’s cousin, Lancel Lannister. While you shared no love for your husband, his older cousin was someone that caught your eye. The two of you would have little picnics alone, wander the streets of King’s Landing and he would spoil you (he may not be his Father’s heir anymore, but he was still a man of incredible wealth). Even the closest of your friends do not know of this love. 

Jaime knew he always loved you, but never the full extent of it. During your time in King:s Landing during The Mad King’s reign, the two of you were always in one another’s arms. Or at least you were only in his arms. Jaime loved you, but Cersei was his twin sister. He was born to be with her (or at least that is what Cersei would tell him). But guilt would always gnaw on his heart every time he was with her. Anytime he was with Cersei, he would leave a flower on your bed. You, who was unaware what the flower meant, were always delighted! And everytime he got Cersei with a child, he would buy you something lavish (his own twisted way of apologising). But for every night with Cersei, he spent with you. Once you discovered the meaning of his presents, you were absolutely outraged, leaving King’s Landing without a word. Jaime would not see again until he was at his lowest and taken by Robb Stark’s men. And the sight of you once again, reminded him of what he lost. (Don’t worry, you fall again with one another). 

Ship Tropes

Childhood Friends to Lovers

Forbidden Romance

Second Chances

Ship Tropes

Happier by Olivia Rodrigo

‘ GROWING STRONG’

You belong to House Tyrell! While Martell was the obvious choice when concerning you, I had to think of a secondary house since we decided to use new houses and after only a few seconds, House Tyrell was so perfect for you! Similar to the members we currently know of, you are charming and intelligent. You know when you want things and how to get them without hurting anyone. You are vibrant and sweet, yet also cunning and if that does not match House Tyrell, I don’t know what does.

BACKSTORY

Jaxraell Tyrell was born to Mace Tyrell and Alerie Hightower. He was the eldest child with two younger siblings — Margaery and Loras Tyrell. Jaxraell shared a whole 13 year age gap with his other siblings. Because of this, he was a parental figure to both of them and while those two grew up close, Jaxraell wasn’t truly close with his siblings. When Mace learned that Tywin Lannister had twins close to his eldest son's age, he sent Jaxraell to be Tywin Lannister’s ward. Jaxraell learned everything he knew at Tywin’s feet and the Lord began to favour his ward more than he liked his own children. At the age of 15, Tywin married his niece, Elayna Lannister, to Jaexraell to form a closer bond between the two houses. The couple shared no love for one another (quickly coming to discover that Jaxraell preferred the company of men while Elayna preferred the company of other women). But as their duty required, the couple had 2 children together. A boy named Aleksyne and 4 years later, a girl named Cerelle. During the birth of their second child, Elayna died after being bedridden for a few days. When Cersei and Jaime left to go to King’s Landing ( Cersei for suitors and Jaime for knighthood ), Mace encouraged Jaxraell to go in hopes he would find someone. That did happen, just not how Mace imagined.  

 RELATIONSHIPS 

TYRION LANNISTER is obviously your best friend! While he was a bit younger than you, he was always so much funnier and just better to be around. He didn’t judge like Cersei nor was he as arrogant as Jaime. Being with one another helped forget any problems. The two of you would always keep touch with letters even when you left King’s Landing. 100% drinking buddies who are a chaotic nightmare for everybody. 10/10 friendship!

MARGAERY TYRELL is your little sister and easily your favourite! She looked up to you as a little kid, clinging on to you always. Tears poured out of her eyes when you left for Casterly Rock. She was so bitter that they were stealing you away. Even when she became Queen, she always kept you around by her side. Everything you learned, you taught to Margaery. LORAS TYRELL  was the brother you would mess around with and play swords with. While both siblings stylized their personalities after yours, Loras was your chaotic part. The one who would mess around, break rules, train with your sword, (kiss boys) and kill anyone who would harm his family. 

TYWIN LANNISTER is more of a father to you then Mace ever was. During his political meetings, you were his cupbearer and would hear everything to be said. Everything he knew about life, the world and the method to play the Game of Thrones was passed on to you. In truth, if he could, he would make you heir to Casterly Rock. He is the type of person who would tell his kids ‘be more like Jaxraell!’ While a mentor, he also invites you to sit with him during dinner and asks you questions about your day. 

OBERYN MARTELL is part of your messy love triangle! Upon his arrival in King’s Landing for Joffery’s wedding to your sister, he was so intrigued by you. You were so bright, cunning, sweet, intelligent and so… like him? He saw bits of himself in you. He would follow you around, a smirk on his lips every time he is with you (never has Jaime felt so jealous). He would fight so hard for your affection and for the first time in so long, you felt loved. If he hadn’t die, I wholly believe that you would have followed him to Dorne and married him. 

[phoebe-delia]

if I could fall into the sky

Hello! So here’s the thing. I saw this art by @lilbeanz a long while back and was hit with the sudden, stark realization that I have been here well over a year and somehow NOT written a songfic to "A Thousand Miles" by Vanessa Carlton. I have finally decided to rectify that.

This takes place in the "this is me trying" universe, because it remains probably my favorite thing I've written and also this song is perfect for a scene I've got in mind. You don't need to have read the fic already to know what's going on. I’ve also changed it to fit Draco’s POV.

Also. This is a late birthday gift for the incredible @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm. Joy, you are fucking incredible. As a person and a creator. Thank you for sharing your light with us for a few trips around the sun.

Here’s something pensive and brooding. I hope it makes you feel even a fraction as dreamy and floaty as your creations do for us all.

This was one of the best parts of his day, the walk to the tube station after work. When Draco first got the job, he tried to make the entire journey back to his flat on foot, but he was cursing himself for going on a twenty-minute walk before and after a several-hour shift on his feet. But the tube station was a solid five minutes away from the diner, and figuring out the transit system wasn't too daunting once he figured out the few routes he needed to know.

Riding the tube felt like a cross between the Hogwarts Express and the Knight Bus. Besides, he quite enjoyed the commute once Lindsey showed him how to get music on the little device she'd made him buy once she'd realized he was utterly clueless about popular culture—at least, her kind.

And Draco's kind, now, too.

As he clicked the headphones around his neck, easily accessible once he boarded the tube, he wondered whether Potter had one of these; f he carried music with him wherever he went. If he, too, needed to quiet the voices in his head with someone else's.

He scowled to himself. Fucking Potter.

One of the bright points of his de facto exile from the Wizarding World was the fact that he'd thought he might not ever have to see Potter again. Draco was more than happy with the cool politeness they'd maintained in the last year at Hogwarts. He'd left the school flooded with relief that he and Potter were finally, blessedly, neutral.

And he felt he'd earned it, too. He'd done his best. He'd paid reparation, tried to read about and experience parts of the world he'd never known or considered before. He was working at a Muggle diner and went to Muggle university for fucks sake. The diner was frustrating work—certainly not the kind of job he'd ever expected to hold, but still gave him a strange sense of satisfaction at the end of each shift. Certainly not the kind of rush he got during his classes during the day, but it was enough.

He was fucking proud of himself, truth be told.

Until Potter had shown up at the diner the previous night and seen Draco in his uniform, and Draco absolutely could not handle it.

So he'd fled, hoping Potter would get the message that Draco did not want to see him at all. That he simply wanted to live his life. To move on.

When Potter arrived again tonight, Draco'd thought Potter either could not seem to comprehend that Draco wanted nothing to do with him, or didn't care. He'd worked his shift half distracted trying to figure out whether Potter was malicious, or just plain stupid.

Neither, as it turned out, or so it seemed. Potter seemed to take a genuine interest in Draco, and that could bring nothing but chaos into the life Draco had so carefully crafted for himself. With his small flat, his job, and his writing classes, Draco was sure his posh, sneering Father would have a heart attack if he knew.

Draco had never felt richer in his life.

His past and present were separated; starkly different. Draco had been careful to carve his new life away from the Wizarding World. Leave no trace behind.

And then Potter—with his crooked smile and impossible hair and startlingly green eyes—just had to blur the lines. He had to mess with the boundaries and walls Draco had put in place.

But then—Potter had seemed so deeply earnest. He’d looked at Draco with that same spark of determination he had when they were kids—but this time with an open hand instead of a clenched fist. Draco shivered at the memory of it; at the feeling of Potter’s eyes on him in that burning, almost predatory gaze. His childhood fantasies were nothing compared to the visceral lived experience of being on the receiving end of Potter’s tenacity.

It hit Draco then, as he neared the tube station, the moon staring knowingly at his back, that he couldn’t wait to feel it again.

[headgehug]

streetlight manifesto: a comprehensive review*

*of one album

streetlight manifesto (SM) is an American ska band founded in New Jersey in 2002, consisting of several members of other musical collectives, such as Catch 22 and Bandits of the Acoustic Revolution. alright i'm done summarizing their wikipedia page. i just learned those things. let's review the album Somewhere in the Between (2007).

1. We Will Fall Together

physically impossible to start off stronger than this! the band is made up of so much talent, several members being former orchestra members, etc. WWFT is sort of your summary for the overarching themes of struggling with religion and fear of death.

If you listen to nothing else from this list, listen to this one! the brass is incredibly sexy (I say brass instead of being specific because there's horns, and trombone, and saxophone.. i mean it's kind of everything and i have a hard enough time telling the difference), the bass is simply devious, and the times it focuses on just guitar are so clever.

not to mention the lyrics! this song in particular is a sort of fuck you, when we go down, it'll be together, with those of us we trust and love.

And when we fall we will fall together No one will catch us so we'll catch ourselves

and in the face of a religion that is in practice only violent and threatening, when things seem this hopeless

They're coming after all of us with everything they've got With the fury of a soldier who will answer to his God So how will we fight? All we have is logic and love on our side

anyways! WWFT is simply maddening in its perfection. it's a rally, it's a war cry, it's a warm embrace in the dark. and how could the rest of the album possibly hold a candle to it? (somehow, it can)

2. Down, Down, Down To Mephisto's Cafe

this one starts out as if it's angsty 90s grunge, but oh, this is no Creep, this is no 1979. we're not lamenting loss of belief and alienation here, we're riding a sick bass line down to hell :)

I will say that in an album that is just so fast, the slower start can be a little jarring, but we're early on, and it's for a good cause, so it doesn't particularly bother me! especially not when we have such hard-hitting lyrics such as:

Someone shouted "Everything's for nothing" (Somebody shouted, "All is lost") But I can't buy that nonsense too

Even in the pits of despair, ostracism for one's lack of belief, facing the idea that there is nothing after this life, perhaps, everything is not for nothing.

This is a fun song in the same way Keasby Nights by Catch 22 is a fun song ("My my my how the time does fly when you know you're gonna die by the end of the night!" is so revitalizing to repeat over and over), because that whatever we're all gonna die, let's do a kickflip about it mentality is awesome, but the emphasis on love and kinship and atheistic morality is so, so important also.

Give 'er a listen here

3. Would You Be Impressed?

AGAIN! you would not think things could get any better after those two. Yet the song opens up with a fresh sound, grittier vocals, and a darker tone. the horns in particular are so eerily announcing... something. and with the song's condemnation of apathy, of cruelty and of detachment from the world, judgement day may not be too far off base.

the song progresses, proclaiming various horrors in the world, from "it's not my fault" to "it's all my fault," the former in protest of responsibility, the latter in stark realization once it's too late. well, that gets pretty dark, but the song itself is absolutely wild.

4. One Foot On the Gas, One Foot in the Grave

well, it was inevitable in an album full of 10s. OFOTG,OFITG is a solid 9 :/ if only because of the slow start, again! if this was your average mid 2000s pop punk/indie rock album, it would be par for the course, but this is ska, and so there's kind of a high demand for your music to be thoroughly adhd.

that being said, we do pick up speed relatively fast, and it's a plucky consideration of questioning one's ingrained beliefs. give it a whirl if you so please

5. Watch it Crash

oh boy, are we back to the 10s. we have some of the most rhythm guitar heavy moments in the intro, and it so suits the desperation and resignation of the lyrics:

It said "We can't just blame it on our mothers Claim everything they did was always wrong" And there ain't no turning back, when our train is off its track And there's nothing we can do but watch it crash

the resounding, nearly ironic cry for "Mercy, mercy me!" paired with this sort of watching it all burn feeling is so real? there's always a cloying desire for the security that religion offers, that there's some force watching out for you. and it can be hard knowing there's not.

but! at least we have watch it crash. listen to it :)

6. Somewhere in the Between

this is THE epitome of that thing that's like, emo/punk/goth is when life sucks and you ___ about it, and ska is off to the side like life sucks but we got a fucking sax solo! doot doot doot

We have an absolutely joyous brass riff throughout this song about how we are all going to die.

Maybe the times we had, they weren’t that bad And everything else was part of our path We sang: “I don’t know where we go from here” This is the anthem, the slogan, the summary of events And we all just idealize the past So you were born, and that was a good day Someday you’ll die, and that is a shame But somewhere in the between was a life of which we all dream And nothing and no one will ever take that away

not only that, but this quivering, sensual instrumental in the middle-- how's that for something amazing in the between? this song is a masterpiece honestly. like-- yeah!

7. Forty Days

once again-- how could you top SitB? well, with Forty Days. we've got this sultry, swinging riff opening a song about the haunting creep of past sins.

with regards to the vocals, i get a Mad Caddies vibe from this song, just with the way the singers sound. a little rough, discernibly edgy.

These lines are kickers:

What a way to begin, we inherit sin

the christian belief that we inherit sins from our ancestors, and that we are born into a sin that can only be cleansed by belief-- well what if you don't believe?

I've tasted seven sins, so they won't let me in I knock knock knock until my knuckles are bruised and raw Stuck in the middle with my blood in a puddle on the floor We made our beds, we'll judge ourselves

I love this set of lines for its rebellion, the "no one can judge me but me" attitude, the knowledge that one's lust for life will be one's eternal downfall.

What a waste! So many decent people at the gates

and when we all get to heaven- the challenging of traditional religious morality, the idea that a perfectly good person could be turned away for lack of belief.

and then while you contemplate all of this, we have a pleasantly clean but complex guitar solo. anyways, it's a must listen, i think.

8. The Blonde Lead the Blind

and we're back to cheerful ska riffs :)

this is a fairly stand-alone song, and can be about popular culture leading those who subscribe to it, or about religion and its affect on those who subscribe to it... well i guess they're both fads, aren't they?

the chorus is delightfully rebellious:

Did you lose faith? Yes, I lost faith in the powers that be But in doing so I came across the will to disagree And I gave up, yes I gave up and then I gave in But I take responsibility for every single sin

let's take a moment to wax poetic about the skill of this band, yes? let me be a hater for just a split second and say that it's a little disappointing to hear so much popular music that doesn't ooze musical talent. it absolutely requires technique and expertise far above my comprehension, but i kind of like to just hear a song where i know the people are ridiculously talented... like yeah these guys are Professional Musicians. okay i'm done lol. TBLTB here

9. The Receiving End of it All

i believe this song references the fact that SM was robbed not once, but twice on their tours of Europe... hence "That motherfucker, he took everything we had"... well considering the other lyrics, it's probably not that, but this is a fun and essential SM fact. no, i don't have any others. just preaching for the album lol.

this song stands alone just a bit, in that it's about a failed relationship. it may or may not relate to the themes of religious separation throughout the rest of the album. it does, however, go very hard.

10. What a Wicked Gang are We

any instrument that can trill is brrrilliant in my book, and this song therefore does not disappoint at all. This is the final track on the album, and holds the position well. it's a biting address towards America as a whole, evidenced by the use of "Tis of Thee" like, as in, "my country".

I mean, in that regard, it's nothing particularly unusual though, just about how the political class is running this country into the ground... pretty standard stuff in the punk sphere?

however, it does wrap the album up quite well. shifting the focus from religion and fear of death towards something that we can control is so smart, relevant in 2007 and unfortunately still relevant now! it's so terribly easy to get depressed in the wake of all this, but do please remember. at least we have killer sax solos.

to sum it up: yeah good album . i'd say more but tumblr is groaning under the weight of all my links. sure hope this posts.

[brummiereader]

Oh god here we go...🙏 I'm nervous 😬. I refused to read the summary, I want zero spoilers 😌😅.

Right...i already feel like I have the noose around my neck 😳. I actually felt myself swallow harshly when you described how Heaven felt with it pressing against her throat, I felt that pressure too....you're scaring me shark, are you sure you're not a witch and you've casted some spell on anyone that reads this series, I'm far too immersed in it 😳😂.

"Down below I go" holy crap 🙈, my stomach hurts 😩. I absolutely love the part where you talk about death coming for the guards too, it's so haunting.

"Or were demons already afraid of you down in Hell?" Arghh, stop it Shark ❤️! You know how much I love these little remarks, they have a massive impact on me for the rest of the series, I remember them, I feed off them, I live for them...🤤😂.

SHE'S ALIVE!! She escaped the noose once again. But hang on, hang on, Officer Wilson, who are you?? Is she a witch too, hmm 🤔? This whole scene was incredible, her walking out into the fresh air, soaking in the sun to embracing Polly. Heaven is always so comforting to everyone, even those that haven't been kind to her in the past. I really hope her and Polly build a strong connection overtime, they are so similar in certain ways.

"Alive, for sure, and indescribably furious" watch out Tommy, Heaven has her eye on you 😏.

YES YES, i knew it was John that came in 😂. I love them so much! “A part of me hoped to see you undressed, that’s why I didn’t, little Angel.” I love their banter so much ❤️. There really is something special between John and Heaven, at first I thought that maybe he fancied her, but I think it's a bit deeper than that. He loves her but I'm not sure if it's romantic. Reading how he had lost his smile when she left and how strong their bond is that he still visits them was so sweet to read. Arthur is the love of her life her other half, light and dark and John is her best friend, the one who will always be there for her, always trying to make her laugh and smile, it's just so FLUFFY 🥰.

“I’m scared because now I’ve got something to lose,” well shit, this is so true. The worse part of falling in love is the fear of losing that person, and that fear can be so powerful it overrides everything. Heaven darling, we all feel you ❤️. Oh John, you sweet man. His words were so comforting, everyone needs a John in times like that, he didn't over do it or ramble on, he said exactly what she needed to hear.

A-Ha ! So I've finally met Kaiser! I've seen a few little stories on my Tumblr feed about this pooch, but I was worried I would spoil the parts I haven't read yet so dared not click on them. Well isn't this little baby adorable ♥️. I loved that John tried to put a mustache on him but he ate it 😂😂! I want a John in my life, please someone clone one for me 🙏.

Shark....♥️! He's going to walk her down the aisle 🥺, my heart! And the way he reacted was the loveliest thing I have ever read.

Arthur calm down! There's no way Heaven wouldn't show up. The way you describe Arthur's worries are so true to his character, he is always doubting himself, worried he is not good enough. And the way he tries to calm himself thinking of his Angel is beautiful, even without her presence she still manages to ease his nerves ♥️.

😯 Heaven entered like the angel she is! I LOVED your description of this whole entire scene, I ate every word up! Every small detail was perfect, and it's fair to say heaven looked STUNNING! I mean even Tommy couldn't look away 😂! I got goosebumps when you described how Arthur was certain he saw the wings of an angel behind her 😯... beautifully written! Well... This wedding scene is a stark difference to my wedding scene was psycho Tommy 😬😂. Arthur please! You're in church...no tongues 😂, I guess he couldn't resist!

The only incident to declare had been the moment when Arthur, faithful to himself, almost smashed someone’s head in the wedding cake —he got angry when one of the guests looked at your cleavage—. Well that made me snort, rather loudly 😂. Oh Arthur, I want to squish you!

😂 of course they were off "releasing pressure", I laughed at this whole scene, it was perfect. And the way Polly was getting frustrated at everything not going exactly to plan was hilarious, I can totally see her getting like that. And Ada's remark 😏🤭!

Awww the last part 🥰. I love their pillow talk. It made me so relaxed just reading about them chatting away as they slowly fell asleep. It was the perfect ending. This chapter was amazing, we went from near death to wedding anxiety, to joy and then finally peace ❤️, what a rollercoaster of emotions you put me through with this one ! Incredible as always, this series is my favourite 😘!

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary:  Six months after being released from prison and cleared of murder charges, you and Arthur are finally getting married. All you have to do now is hope for the wedding day to be spared from some Shelby chaos. Featuring John Shelby x Reader.

Words: 6k

TW:  tooth-rotting fluff, light angst, allusions to smut, one ruined wedding cake, Tommy not being a dick for once, otherwise it's a well-deserved soft chapter to start this new act. Let's not break your heart too soon.

Notes:

✞ This chapter is the beginning of Act II of Heaven in Your Eyes. The timeline is S4.

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here).

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT PART

The beating in your heart was so erratic, so fierce, that its constant drumming echoed in your skull and ears as painfully as if someone was smashing your brain with a hammer. You clenched your jaws at the painful bite of the rope the police officer behind you had placed around your neck. The way the noose compressed your windpipe, already giving you a foretaste of what was awaiting you, made the act of breathing laborious. Sucking on a sharp breath, your throat whistled like a dying bird. Down below I go, you thought while nervously playing with the wedding ring Arthur gifted you weeks ago. He had barely made his proposal when policemen snatched you from him and threw you both in jail. With your back straight and your crystal eyes glaring at the officers who were present in this slaughter room, you managed to keep your dignity. They might hang you, but they would not see you cry. In fact, if you went down they would have to watch you, so that your piercing irises would haunt them until, one day, Death would come for them too.

I love you Arthur. 

I love you Dad and Mom.

I love you little sister.

I’m so sorry I’ve failed you.

Could you ever forgive me?

Your teeth dug into the flesh of your inner cheek as seconds flew, each bringing you closer to your inevitable end. 

“WAIT!!! PLEASE WAIT! ” 

A far cry in the distance. Were you dreaming? Or were demons already afraid of you down in Hell?

Officer Kat Wilson’s heart missed a beat when the familiar voice boomed in the warehouse, as loud as a foghorn. The blonde policewoman turned around, eyes filled with hope as she saw the silhouette of Sergeant Moss bathed in the blinding outside light that had rushed into the place when he had opened the warehouse’s heavy doors, “Do not kill her! We’ve just received a new order from the Crown: Heaven Lavey and Polly Gray are proven innocent of the crimes they had been accused of.”  He said, forehead glistening with sweat. He had probably run as fast as possible to deliver the news quickly. Kat Wilson felt all of her muscles relax at such an unhoped-for plot twist.

“Take the noose off her neck now.” She ordered, trying his best to sound strict despite Moss standing right here,  running out of breath.

Innocent? Take the noose? Sentences were melting in an intelligible treacle because of the emotional roller coaster you were undergoing, hence you only caught a few words. When your mind finally made sense of what was happening, a long sigh came out of your quivering lips. Then, the policeman behind you set your throat free. You blinked several times and looked at Officer Wilson, who replied to your confused gaze with a faint, supportive smile illuminating her usually oh-so-severe traits. Then, she proceeded to free you from the handcuffs that were sinking into the frail flesh of your wrists. As she did, Kat brought her lips near your ear and whispered so only you could hear, “Arthur’s safe. The warrant includes the Shelby family too. I’m sorry for the mess, doll. ” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat and glanced at the woman, trying not to let too many emotions show. Not that you wanted to play the tough girl, but you were so overwhelmed by your feelings that you were not even able to let out anything except confusion. It was all… Too much. “You knew they were going to release us.” You stated with a quiet but still slightly shaky voice as the revelation struck you. 

“Let’s say I hoped they’d interrupt your death sentence in time.” Her soft yet hoarse voice replied, highlighted with a cunning little something.

Kat Wilson gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze before leading you outside the sinister warehouse, unwilling to provide you with further details. And somehow, you did not bother to ask. The only thing you wished for was to run away from this killing floor. Thus you walked bare feet on the gravel ground, the peaky sensation of the tiny stones against your flesh keeping you grounded to reality, andyou stopped in the middle of the yard. There, you threw your head back and closed your eyes,  relishing the soft caress of the wind on your face.  You breathed a sigh of relief, for the clouds above you had shifted from the sun, whose rays were warming up your frozen skin. 

You were alive. 

“Heaven!” A woman voice called you.

You reopened your eyes and looked around you, “Oh my God, Polly!” You suddenly exclaimed when you recognized her. Seeing Aunt Polly running to you and almost tackling you in a desperate hug was all it took for your emotions to finally flood you. Tears dawned at the corner of your eyes as you pulled her into a deeper embrace. Polly sobbed in your arms, her body quivering because of her cries.

“I saw them Heaven! I saw the spirits. Oh bloody hell, the spirits…” 

“I know Pol,” You tried to comfort her the best you could, your grip tightening around the poor woman in the hope of helping her calm her panic attack. Still, you knew she was shaken to the core by her freshly canceled rendezvous with Mr. Death, “Everything’s fine,” You whispered, and let one of your hands lose itself in her short dark hair, “I hear them too.” You admitted. Polly gradually grew quieter in your arms, running out of tears. Nevertheless, you did not let her go. What you did, though, was to silently thank the policewoman with your gaze, your irises sparkling with genuine gratitude. No matter her role in all this mess, you knew Kat Wilson contributed to setting you free. 

You were alive.

Alive, for sure, and indescribably furious. 

1925 - Six Months Later 

You had been absentmindedly looking at your reflection in the mirror for long minutes when someone knocked at the door and snatched you from your contemplative state. A growl escaped from your lips for you had let everyone know you did not want to be bothered— truth be told, you needed a bit of time alone with you to soothe your anxiety. However, the uninvited guest came in before you allowed him to do so.

“True gentlemen wait to be invited before entering a room, you know? Especially when a lady is in it. ” You said with a faint smirk on your plump and glossy lips as you recognized the guest by the sole fragrances of his cologne. 

“A part of me hoped to see you undressed, that’s why I didn’t, little Angel.” The masculine voice answered, its tone filled with tease. You snorted at such a stupid answer, kinda expecting it, and rolled your eyes in amusement.

“Idiot.” You simply retorted, glancing at him through the mirror you were still facing.

“Idiot? That’s it? I’m used to better roast from ya, eh!” John exclaimed, surprised by your lack of wit. He wanted to tease you again you but your sudden silence kept him from doing so. Something was off. Worried, the young Shelby brother frowned a little bit and walked to you, not minding your desire of being alone. You jumped slightly at the sensation of his two large and warm hands squeezing your upper arms, “Oi, Angel.” He gently called, the tenderness in his voice wrapping you in a comforting haze, “Tell me what’s wrong please…” 

For sure John Shelby had a soft spot for you since the day Arthur introduced you to the family. No one had ever doubted it. Without the slightest explanation nor apparent reasons, you both immediately grew fond of each other from the moment your eyes met. In truth, your relationship with the Shelby family had been quite tricky for months following the first meeting. Most of them didn’t want you to be a part of the clan, partly due to the witch rumors around you and Arthur’s obsessive love. It was only now, a solid year and one murder later, that everything had started to flow more smoothly with them. Even Esme, who had been terrified of you and would usually avoid you at all costs, had learned to live with your presence in the family. According to Polly, you had deserved your place among them more than any other women the boys brought home. The only threat to this harmony had been and still was Thomas Shelby himself. The mutual resentment you shared for each other was rooted in deep and far too complicated reasons, the most recent one was him selling you to the police for murder charges. However, you came to terms with the idea of maintaining a mutual hatred as long as he did not step between Arthur and you ever again. 

So, apart from Tommy and Esme, you were now getting along with everyone. But with John… With John, it was unlike anything you had ever experienced, apart from Arthur. Whenever your man wasn’t there, John would do everything that was in his power to keep you company and bring a smile to your face. Not only he loved to visit you and spent his free time with you, but he truly cared for your well-being. Sometimes he would make a surprise visit to your house. In fact, he would stand there on your porch with the most adorable smile you had ever seen etched on his lips, a basket filled with food in one hand and a bottle of red wine in the other. When Arthur and you decided to leave Birmingham, your heart ached at the thought of moving away from John. Following your departure, rumors said John’s eternal smile had not be seen for weeks. However, once you had well adjusted to your new routine, even distance could not shake your unique bond: John never ceased to visit you when he could.

“What’s the matter, little angel?” He inquired, genuinely concerned by your silence and the melancholic gleam in your aquamarine eyes. 

“I’m scared John. I’m fucking scared.” You finally admitted, closing your eyelids a few seconds to take a slow inhale. The weight in your chest had vanished from the moment words left your mouth.  At such a surprising answer, the young gangster’s grip tightened on your arms and he gently forced you to turn around to face him. Still, you avoided his gaze, fearing judgment. 

“It’s your wedding day, Heaven. What are you scared of?” He carefully asked, taking care not to make you think he was mocking or judging you.

“I’m scared because now I’ve got something to lose,” You fell silent for a tiny while, fighting again the desire to remain silent, but you knew you could open up to him, “I have a magnificent house in the forest cradled by the sweet chant of a peaceful stream. I have the loveliest man I could have dreamt of by my side, who loves me to the moon and back. God, I even got a dog!” Another brief pause you took to avoid crying, “And one day there will be one or two kids…” John listened to you carefully, still wondering what the problem was, “If I'm being honest, I’ve never thought I would be allowed to be this happy. At one point in my life, I got used to the idea of dying alone,  hunted down by bad memories, and drown by guilt. But, look at me now. Look how far I’ve come… That’s why I’m scared of losing it all. Fuck, John — I’ll die without him.” 

To your greatest surprise, the young gangster replied to your lament with soft chuckles, “Heaven. I don’t know what it is between Arthur and you, but I’ve never seen a love fiercer than you one you share. Bloody Hell, you’re so addicted to each other it’s even a bit scary sometimes, not gonna lie eh,” His fingers trapped your chin in one soft movement and, with indescribable tenderness, he raised your head so that he could observe each trait of your angelic face, “Having something to lose makes you cherish what you have even more. Plus it doesn’t mean you’re gonna lose it. “ The corner of his charming lips curled in a sweet smile, “Moreover, there’s more chance for Tommy to like you than for Arthur to leave your side. He’s not gonna let you go… To my greatest sadness.” John winked at you and, despite everything, his last flirty comment managed to make you laugh.  Sometimes, you didn’t know how he always succeeded in cheering your up but still he did, “Listen, I knew you’d be a bit nervous for your wedding day, so I got you a little surprise.” 

“A surprise?” You asked, curious, wiping away the tiny tears that had formed in the corner of your eyes while being careful not to ruin the stunning siren-eyes makeup Ada did. It would be a shame to have more mascara on your cheek than on your eyelashes the day of your wedding. John walked to the door and put his large hand on the knob, looking at you to maintain a small suspense “I know he’s not supposed to see you before the ceremony but he would not stop crying without you so…” He was about to open the door when he stopped mid-action, “Oh and I’m not talking about Arthur by the way. Even though I’m pretty sure he’s also doing that.” 

“Fuck off, John boy.” You poked your tongue out, feeling cheerful and far less anxious thanks to him. He grinned in reply and finally opened the door.

“Oh! This is... So cuuuuute!” You almost squealed, for you were welcomed by the sight of Kaiser, the huge Cane Corso Arthur’s had brought home one night, sitting in front of the door with his mouth open in a big smile and with his drooling tongue hanging, “Come here big boy!” You called him, kneeling on the floor without minding your wedding dress now that your fur baby was here. Kaiser did not need to be asked twice: he walked to you and put his huge head between your frail hands to get his scratches, looking at you with so much love in his hazel eyes you could not resist smooching his wet snout “I can’t believe you’ve put a bow tie to my dog!” You laughed, “Look at this distinguished gentleman... He’s gonna steal all the women!”  The massive beast barked loudly as to agree with you. You delicately wrapped your arms around his muscular frame to hug him, the sensation of his fur against your face erasing the last bits of anxiety left in you “Oh you’re the most handsome man of the whole family, baby Kaiser... Yes, you are. ”

His tail wagged. Of course, he was!

“Couldn’t participate in the wedding if he wasn’t all fancy, eh. I've also put a fake mustache on his snout but he ate it so I gave up on the idea,” He shrugged, “I thought it would make you laugh and help you relax.” 

“Thank you, John! Thank you so much, you’re lovely I swear.” You said, looking at him with your gaze filled with genuine affection all the while cuddling with Kaiser, who seemed to be in paradise judging by his blissfully happy face. 

“So — are you ready?” John finally asked.

“Yes, I am.” You replied, then stood up and took a quick look at your reflection in the mirror to fix your long white mane, which had been styled in wavy and adorned with a few diamonds from there and then, giving your hair an otherworldly shine. As you focused on your hairstyle, John rearranged your dress. At one point, he stopped what he was doing to look at you with a dreamy expression. 

“You’re stunning, little angel. Fuckin’ bewitching.” He whispered before shaking his head, “Let’s find your man now, eh. Alright?” You nodded, the butterflies in your stomach flying at the sole mention of Arthur.

“I’m ready but before we go can I ask you a favor, John?”

“Anything.” 

“You know, I’d have loved my family to be here. Mom would have been prolly crying during the whole wedding in Dad’s arms while my little sister would have thrown white petals at everyone’s face for fun…” You let out a charming but oh-so-sad chuckle “But no matter how fiercely I’ve prayed for it I know they won’t be there. So I’ve got two choices left: either I walk alone to my husband or I ask someone to accompany me.” You had barely finished your sentence when the celeste blue of your eyes dived into the sky blue of his, “I’d like you to escort me down the aisle, John.”

He remained silent, stricken by surprise at such a touching demand.  He had not been expecting it. Words were at loss, however, they were not necessary for you to understand his answer:  as the sun rays crossed through the windows and enlightened John’s face, you could see the precious shine of one sole crystal tear running down his cheek.

The powerful sound of the organ resonated in the whole church, the vibrations of its melody resounding in Arthur’s chest and making him tremble from within. He was standing in front of the altar with his manly hands interlocked in front of him. For the occasion, he had bought the most elegant and expensive tailored three-piece suit he had ever owned: he was dressed in all black, except for the white shirt he was wearing under. Moreover, Tommy had put some traditional white flowers in the pocket of his vest, while Polly had slipped an emerald pillar pendant around his neck and hid it under his shirt before he entered the church— a marriage blessing, from what he had understood from Polly’s emotional speech. The woman was so proud of her older nephew she could not help but already weep with joy. Arthur nervously glanced at his brother who was standing by his side, slightly in front of him at his best man’s place.  Then, his steel-blue eyes shifted from Tommy and searched for his Aunt, who sat a bit further in the audience beside Ada and Finn. To be honest, Arthur’s anxiety kicked in. The more the second passed, the more the unpleasant impression his heart was about to burst from his chest was overwhelming. Nervously spinning one of his silver rings, he tried to control his nerves the best he could but it was harder than he thought: a part of him, admittedly irrational, was terrified by the possibility of you not showing up.

What if you’ve changed your mind? What if you’ve come to the conclusion you did not want him? What if your wedding did not work out, just like his first one? Maybe the problem hadn’t been Linda but him? 

As was always the case when he was panicking, his self-whipping thoughts banged together in his skull like a hive of furious buzzing hornets. Nevertheless, Arthur knew, deep down, that you were soul mates and that there was no actual reason for you to flee. What really helped him to calm down though was taking a deep inhale and focusing on the hundred of candles’ flames that were illuminating the room with tiny dancing flames. A comforting wave of warmth almost immediately wrapped his heart as he did, for this church was the place in which you met for the very first time. He still clearly remembers the fire that had lit in his dying soul at the way your fingers grazed him when you had cleaned the blood off his face with a torn piece of your own dress. Not only had you purified his soiled skin, but then you had allowed him to put his head on your thighs and proceeded to pet his hair all the while lulling his demons to sleep with that enchanting voice of yours. From that night, Arthur made a promise to Almighty God, who had been kind enough to answer his prayers and sent him his most precious Angel. And that promise was that he would marry you in this same place to show God how well he would treat you and how happy you would be with him.

The organ roared louder in the church all of a sudden, causing him to refocus.

 You were coming.

The gangster straightened his back, quickly slicked his hair back one last time to look perfect for you, and then stared at the church’s heavy wooden doors with both anxiety and anticipation in his eyes. His blood boiled with impatience, for you had been separated for too long because of the traditional “don’t see the bride before the ceremony” the Shelby women — and John — had insisted to establish. That being said, it had been torture for Arthur, who was aching so much from your absence that he felt almost as bad as when he went through rehab. Hands shaking, cold sweat running down his back, breath hitching, Arthur could definitely not live without you by his side. — you were the most exquisite drug ever created, against which even opium could not even compete. 

The doors opened and panic rushed even more brutally into his being. At first, he thought he was about to die from a heart attack, but then, all these negative feelings vanished in dust when his piercing blue irises met your tantalizing silhouette. When you erupted from the almost supernatural light that was surrounding you, Arthur widened his eyes and stopped breathing. Here you were, your seductive body adorned with a graceful Greek goddess-inspired dress whose cut let the pale flesh of your back for the world to see while also forming a graceful and long wedding cape that was cascading down your shoulders. The whiteness of your outfit, equaling the wonderful snow-like color of your hair, was enhanced with gold jewels: armbands and a choker. One look at you was all it took for Arthur to feel the stinging of uncontrollable tears dawning in his eyes, for a tsunami of emotions had crashed in his soul at such a holy sight. As you walked to the altar at John’s arm, the wind blew in the church and made your cape dance behind you. For a few seconds, Arthur was convinced he saw wings in your back. Mighty feathery wings. 

Divine. It was the only word that came into his mind when he watched you breaking the distance between you. And the more you approached, the more he was stunned by your ethereal beauty. So stunned he had to keep himself from falling on his knees at your feet, deeming himself unworthy of standing in front of such a pure seraph. Even Tommy, whose resentment for you was a secret to none, found himself in awe at your pulchritude. He, along with the groom, had to blink several times to make sure they were not dreaming. 

Your glossy lips stretched in an enamored smile overflowing with emotions when you looked at your future husband: he was so charming in his suit that you fell in love with him for a second time. Your grip tightened around John’s arm for your heartbeat quickened until you finally rejoined Arthur. As soon as you reached him, the tall gangster took you by the hands — yours: small, delicate, and freezing. His: large, calloused, and burning. You dived into each other’s eyes, and the rest of the world disappeared. 

“You’re so handsome.”  You whispered, causing an adorable pink shade to blossom on your soon-to-be husband’s cheeks. 

“C-Come on. Did ye see yer own reflection? Ye took me fookin breath away, Angel.” His hoarse replied.

“Arthur, we’re in a church.” You discreetly snorted.

“Oh Fook. I mean shi— Whatever.” He slightly stuttered. At this moment, it did not matter that he was a grown man in his mid-thirties: he felt like a flustered teenager in front of his first crush all over again.  And to be true, so you were — to the point you both did not hear much of what the priest was saying, for you were far too hypnotized by each other’s presence as well as fighting hard against the urge of devouring each other’s lips. The only moment you both came back to your senses was when you had to pronounce your vows.

Then came the final moment.

Arthur Shelby, do you take Heaven Lavey to be your wife? Do you promise to be faithful to her in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love her and to honor her all the days of your life?

I do. He answered with haste. You trapped your lower lip between your teeth, gathering all your strength to hold your emotions, but the crystal tears in your aquamarine eyes betrayed you. 

Arthur Shelby, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

The caress of your fingers along with the cold sensation of the golden ring on his skin sent shivers down his spine.  Observing you as you sealed your love by slipping the ring around his finger,  Arthur’s smile grew a bit larger and made his teary eyes squint, digging adorable crowfeet at their corners.

You can kiss the bride.

The priest’s last words brought him back to life — that’s what he had been waiting for what seemed to be an eternity. Unable to wait any longer, the gangster brought one hand to your cheek and broke the excruciating distance between your lips until they crashed together under a thunder of applause. The feathery caress of his moustache on your skin mixed with the sensation of his eager mouth warmed you all over. Arthur deepened the kiss by parting his lips slightly so that his tongue could find its way to yours and give it a gentle stroke. But while hungry, the press of his mouth remained chaste. Carried away by his softness, you felt your body flickering in his arms, as fragile as the church’s candle flames.

You were his, he told it to himself. And he was yours. All yours until death tears you apart.

No, fuck that Reaper cunt he thought, even Death would not keep him apart from you.

The hundreds of candles and lanterns that were scattered through all Arrow House’s garden enlightened the night with their warm hue. Shortly before the wedding, the Shelby family suggested hosting the party in Tommy’s Mansion rather than in your place for practical matters. By celebrating your marriage in Arrow House, all the family and, by extension, friends, could reunite together without having to drive for miles. Moreover, the mansion was far bigger than your and Arthur’s house, which made the place far more convenient for partying.  For the event, all of Arrow House and its gargantuan garden had been decorated with lights, candles of every kind, white drapes, and flower wreaths that gave the place a supernatural atmosphere. The cheerful cacophony of chatter and music hovered above the garden as the guests were indulging themselves with food, alcohol, and innocent fun. Even Officer Kat Wilson, who had been invited following her implication in your release from prison, spent the whole night partying with the Shelby family.  Surprisingly enough, no one dared to disrupt the celebration with illegal activities. Just a few bets here and there. The only incident to declare had been the moment when Arthur, faithful to himself, almost smashed someone’s head in the wedding cake —he got angry when one of the guests looked at your cleavage—.  However, if Arthur failed with ruining the cake it had not been Kaiser’s case, who ate half of it by himself. 

“Where are Arthur and Heaven? Can’t believe the bride and the groom had disappeared!” Polly asked Tommy and Ada, visibly unhappy. The latter was a bit tipsy judging by the red shade of her cheeks and the glass of champagne in her perfectly manicured hand.

“Last time I’ve seen them they were dancing with flower crowns on their heads,” She hiccoughed, “I nearly died from laughing. Arthur. With a flower crown. It was so sweet and ridiculous!”

“That ain’t fun, Ada. I really need to find those stupid lovebirds. I swear I’m going bonkers: first Arthur’s tantrum, then Kaiser ruining the wedding cake, and now the newlyweds are late for the picture!” She complained. Overall, it had been Aunt Polly who made sure everything ran smoothly, hence her discontentment.

Tommy rolled his eyes at his sister’s inebriation, then he squeezed her shoulder with his large hand, “I think your question will find its answer really soon, Pol.” He stated with his quiet and deep voice as his turquoise eyes caught sight of your silhouette walking toward them, holding Arthur by the hand. You were both exchanging glances and light enamored laughters.

As surprising as it sounded, Thomas Shelby and you had managed to put your mutual hatred aside for the sake of the wedding. Of course, you were carefully avoiding each other the best you could, but when you were together in inevitable family moments, your exchanges remained polite. 

Polly turned to you with her eyebrows furrowed and pressed her fists on her hips with an angry- mother expression when you and Arthur joined the small group.

“Ah! There you are! The photographer has been fuming for half an hour! Where have you been?” She scolded. 

“We really need a map. This place is a fookin’ maze eh. We got lost.” Arthur tried to justify himself, his fingers firmly intertwined with yours, “I mean I wanted to show her the mansion but hey, I quite forgot which way to go and —“

“Arthur?” Polly cut him.

“Eh?” 

“Your fly.”  She simply stated. Holding much power, those two tiny words made Arthur almost jump. He let go of your hand in one vivid movement.

“OH FOOKIN HELL!” His gravel voice exclaimed when he looked down at his trousers. He quickly zipped the fly up under Ada’s hysterical laugh and Tommy’s mocking smirk. Admittedly, you could not help but giggle too for his reaction had been quite priceless. Oh Arthur, you thought. The only one who was not laughing was Polly, who looked at him with such a desperate face that you were sure she was about to facepalm herself. Or slap his face, it depended on her mood.

“Men and their cock, I swear. Look at you, idiot,” She said affectionately, “Your hair is all messed up! You’re going to look awful in your wedding pic!” She growled, grabbing her oldest nephew to rearrange both his hair and his tie. 

“Don’t be mean Pol, he just needed to release the pressure.” You said, watching the scene with a faint smile on your juicy and glossy lips still swollen from Arthur’s lustful kisses, “The whole speech thing worried him.”   

“Mmmpff— true.” He grunted, embarrassed.  

“Yeah of course.” The beautiful Ada started before coming to you and smoothing the folds of your goddess dress with a teasing grin “What a long and difficult way to say you just wanted to give him a blowjob.” She teased.

“Piss off Ada.” You gently retorted, rolling your eyes in a fake outraged pout, “let’s take that picture before Polly strangle us all.”

“OI. Everyone fucking gather together for the picture! Bring the damn dog too!” Tommy yelled to the crowd, “John! Made them pose in front of the mansion!” Orders flew and Peaky Blinders were soon taking the crowd in charge to help the photographer take the most perfect picture he could take. When everyone was ready, he pushed the button of his camera and, in a blinding flash, captured the most beautiful moment of your whole life in a picture you would cherish like the apple of your eye.

“We… We really should … Like… At least try to get in bed.” You giggled, your cheeks still adorned with a pink blush. Admittedly, talking had become quite a challenge after the second bottle of wine.

“Not gonna lie, love, I can’t fookin’ get up for the life of me.” Arthur pulled you closer against his bare chest and slipped one hand into your messy long hair, not willing to move. The tenderness of his caresses made your whole body relax and you melted in the warmth of his freckled skin. To hell with the bed, you thought, the floor would do the trick. 

When the party had come to an end, Arthur had carried you bridal-style to one of the mansion’s magnificent bedrooms, despite being completely drunk. The whole walk had been tedious with poor Arthur staggering in the stairway, but you could not have cared less — you were as wasted as he was and could not walk anymore. Maybe the alcohol contest with Kat and Uncle Charlie had not been such a great idea after all… Once you reached the bedroom, Arthur and you collapsed on the large fur rug that was on the wooden floor and clumsily took off each other’s clothes between heated kisses and steamy moans. He had impatiently waited for the wedding night, calling you “Mrs. Shelby” and “me lovely wife” all the way. That being said, a few intoxicated chuckles had embellished the symphony of your love when alcohol made one of you missed the other’s lips. No one could tell how many hours went by nor how many times you made love — Not even you. You were only coming back to your senses now that you were both snuggling naked on the floor, your legs entangled and your mind still clouded with your latest orgasm.

“I don’t want this wonderful day to end,” Arthur said, his gruff voice finally breaking the comfortable and peaceful silence that had settled in the room. A slow and long exhale escaped from your nostrils at his words before you laid lazy kisses on his chest. Your lips, still hungry for him despite your drowsiness, trailed up until they reached the golden cross pendant he was always wearing. A shiver ran down his spine when you took it between your full lips and looked up to his eyes through your Bambi lashes, “Fook — you make me so… Happy.” 

“And I’ll do my best to keep you happy every day of your life.” You replied after a little while, setting the pendant free from your tantalizing mouth. “That was a pretty successful day.” 

“It was, eh.” Arthur softly smiled at your words, his piercing blue eyes enjoying your mesmerizing beauty and his long fingers gently massaging your scalp, “We got a letter and a bouquet from Mrs. Solomons, y’know. She wanted to come but her husband’s back was hurting too much. ” 

“Oh yes? Rosie is a sweetheart.”

“And her husband’s a cunt.” He growled, “Bloody bastard.”

“I know right? But she’s great. She’s been teaching me so many interesting things about feminism! Really made me want to attend her next meeting!” 

“Women… You’re all going to overpower us one day.” Arthur said, his voice tinted with amusement. His free hand quickly grabbed the bottle of whisky that was next to him and took a mouthful of alcohol.

“It would not be a bad thing,” You pressed a kiss against his chin and he hummed in response, delighted by the way you showered him with tenderness. Arthur would have been purring under your touch if he had been able to do so. It just felt good — so good the whole world could have gone down in flames he wouldn’t mind as long as you kept pampering him like you were doing. You made him feel loved. You made him feel at peace… And God knows how much he needed that. “Especially for Michael. Have you seen his girlfriend Nora? She looked exhausted.” 

“She just gave birth to her second child. Of course, she’s exhausted, love.” He said. His hand, which had been playing with your hair until then, slowly ran down your naked back.

“Hm.” That was all you replied, for you felt Michael’s girl was more than just physically exhausted. Something was definitely off in their relationship, but you did not want to mingle. “Their daughter is lovely, though.” 

“She is.”

Another silence fell in the bedroom, only embellished by the relaxing cracking of the woods burning in the hearth. Both of you had closed your eyes, slowly drifting away into Morpheus’ kingdom.

“Angel?” He called you with a sleepy voice.

“Yes, Arthur?” You answered, dozing off.

“ I’d love to have kids with ye, eh. Little white-haired and blue-eyed us running barefoot in the forest… Little embodiments of our love brightening our life.” His voice was merely a whisper now for he was slowly falling asleep, “I’ve always wanted to be a dad… but thought I was too messed up for that.”

“You aren’t.” You smiled and let your fingers lazily graze his skin, your nails crossing through his chest hairs and ending their race on his heart, right where his tattoo was “I want it too Arthur. I want it too.” 

Sleep made the last word of your sentence die on your lips. Now, the hullabaloo of the party was no more. All the remaining noises were the harmonious murmurs of your slow breathings and the lullaby sung by the fire, which had never been so comforting. 

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞ Tag list: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms

✞ Nora Gray belongs to @amidst-wonderland || Rose Solomons belongs to @raincoffeeandfandoms || Kat Wilson belongs to my sweet partner @callme-fox

✞ Each chapter of this series can be read as stand-alone even though it's far more enjoyable if you have read at least the previous chapter.

[arcane-ish]

@tenma-brainrot

I just don’t see why he’d have a window unguarded in particular if he was expecting anyone else,

Seems like a pretty standard tactic to me. I don't see that as children specific. Those are some pretty big windows.

And they are on the roof. That roof is likely a bitch to defend. Like if that was my lair, I'd probably put a lookout behind that chimney to notify me when somebody tries to come in and trap them if they come in. Seems easier to me than to defend the whole roof/guard all sides of the building to keep anybody from reaching that roof. (Silco doesn't exactly have unlimited manpower at this point in the story)

have Vander removed (including his children, to remove future threats).

Like I said, I don't find that plausible as a motivation. If his plan was to eradicate Vander's children why rely on a shakey plan (again relies on Ekko trailing them, on Ekko freeing Vi, on Vi picking up all of the other children and attacking rather than not attacking, not attacking on her own, not getting adult allies instead of child allies). Like if your whole point is just to eradicate the family, wouldn't it be vastly more effective to just kill Vi as she is the strongest and then send somebody to the Last Drop later? It's not like somebody can stop you if you have a superhuman monster in tow.

Also, "tying up loose ends" hasn't really been Silco's character trait. If anything, I would argue that Silco has displayed completely the opposite. His style seems to be more "keep my resources around/make use of my resources as long as possible", evidenced by him not killing people even when they went behind his back like Marcus.

And the most obvious example is that he lets the second chem baron go even though she just joined in on an attempt on his life and he knows that she is grieving over the loss of her child. Like if there was ever a "yeah maybe you should cut off that loose end" type of situation, surely it would be this one. And I don't read that as him having pity on her, I read this more "It's really not Silco's style to kill people when he thinks that he could still make use of them". That's why IMO killing Powder would make sense to him (because probably useless) but capturing Vi would seem interesting to him (again looking impressed when she fights his goons/find the girl/where is your sister/Vander's prodigy/prize of your family).

I just see little evidence that Silco valued the children so highly in his plans before seeing Vi fight in his lair that I buy that we would come up with an incredibly long-shot convoluted plan to trap them. Again especially since we have never seen him have him be very meticulous about loose ends and we don't really see him take any actions to ensure they are coming (like let's say sending a ransom note to the Last Drop).

look at who Powder is vs Jinx, the difference is stark.

I guess that's the difference between us. I don't think that the difference is that stark. Like to me the "we'll show them all" scene seemed like an obvious callback to this scene.

A scene where Silco had like exchanged 2 sentences with her. And her killing the enforcers again harkens back to the Enemy music video.

Obviously Powder did not carry that massive trauma under Vander’s care

Looking at her hitting her own head in the enemy music video and her tantrum after Vi leaves her looks still plenty traumatic to me.

Like I don't dispute that killing Mylo and Claggor was very important to Jinx's life. I guess I just don't see it as the one or nothing thing. I think her preceding traumas and problems are also extremely essential to the cocktail that makes Jinx and I don't see Powder vs. Jinx as a night and day/good and bad kind of thing, but as Jinx something that was very much still in Powder to some extent (like a suppressed rage against enforcers that she is not powerful enough to express)

Like a lot of people talk about what a perfect life with a sunny and sweet disposition Jinx could have had if Ekko had taken her in or Viktor. And while I do think it's impossible, I can just as well picture a variety of outcomes in her life that all would have been distinctly less dramatic as Jinx but that would still have been pretty tragic.

As I said, to me the ingredients that caused Mylo and Claggor to die (Powder wanting to prove herself, Powder loving to tinker, Powder not knowing the effect of her bombs) have comparatively little to do with Silco and I easily could imagine her being responsible for their deaths under different circumstances and that dealing with the guilt would always be extremely painful to her (even if she was led by people who pressure her towards it rather than letting her indulge her desire to avoid the topic). Similarly, yeah it's possible that her possessiveness of Vi might have grown itself out, but it's possible that Vi dating people would have always resulted in Powder acting out and major conflict between the sisters. And her potential neurodiversity/hallucinations might likely have been a source of stress in her forming relationships with others (and yes it is fine to imagine a world where everybody important is kind and understanding and sympathetic to her special needs, but I guess I'm too much of a cynic to buy that for a world as supposed to be gritty as Arcane)

I know some people have commented that they felt the Powder's tantrum about Vi leaving behind to save Vander in episode 3 came out of left field to them. As somebody who saw the Enemy video before seeing Act 1, I didn't have this reaction. I looked at it and went "oh that's just like in the music video". That's why I tend to read it less as "Powder's life under Vander was idyllic and perfect and then Silco came and everything changed completely, night and day" and more "Act 1 is from Vi's perspective and Vi and Vander were unaware just how troubled Powder is. Powder's life wasn't perfect, Vi just thought it was/deluded herself into thinking it was". Powder wasn't just sweet and happy, that's just mostly Vi's view on her. But Enemy suggests Powder was already very stressed and conflicted (of course she is also sweet and wants to be happy like in how she plays with Ekko, but also the weight of their circumstances with the enforcers and her mental illness or neurodiversity were weighing on her).

So to me the question isn't even so much "Can Vi accept that Powder has changed/that Powder can't go back to the way she was" but also "Did Vi really understand Powder fully/see the whole of Powder"? (for the record, I do read her interaction in the flare scene where Caitlyn is confused why Jinx is talking to the air that Vi did know that Powder was suffering from mental illness/neurodiversity. So I don't think that she was like blind and missed that Powder had that. But I do also think that some amount of denial of reality is kind of baked into Vi's character [and again morally Vi was a kid, it was't her responsibility in the first place and even if she was a grown-up those are complicated topics to understand and handle])

[which again doesn't mean that Silco has a better/clearer view on Jinx. He has his own blindness of projecting into her and seeing what he wants to see and not seeing what he doesn't want to see, most notably how important Vi is to her/how she likely does want connections to others even if she is scared of it]

So I guess I'm team "Jinx is Jinx and neither Vi or Silco saw the full of Powder or Jinx".

Do you recall that scene where Jinx shot at a crow without reason, and she smiled afterwards?

I suspect that is the core difference between our perspectives, that I tend to think of sadism as something that you either have a propensity towards or not? Like I buy that you can desensitize children through exposure (which I definitely don't put past Silco) but produce sadism especially when it doesn't really seem to be the same type Silco has?

Again, fully subscribe to the idea that Silco was essential to the sadism being able to manifest itself most notably because he protected her from the consequences (ie when Jinx starts shooting indiscriminately the other goons are angry at her, but Silco protects her from the consequences). But I still see that sadism as something that comes from her/respectively as a reaction to the world she lived in even back then.

Silco did definitely tell her to become what they fear, this is part of canon as per Jinx's words (and as he has said that to others I see no reason to doubt it). But how she interprets it very different from how he interprets it. Jinx definitely uses fear as a combat tactic at times to take on bigger/larger number of enemies, but as you said, sometimes her sadism is also pretty useless like with the crow or even detrimental to her goals.

When Silco intimidates the chem barons, he has a concrete goal, they should continue to live and fear him. Meanwhile making somebody who is going to die anyway fear you is pretty pointless. Same for shooting a crow.

Aka pretty much exactly "she is influenced by the words of her parental figure but expresses such in her own way." She hears the words ("become what they fear") but she filters it and interprets it according to her own interests and personality. In many ways Jinx is more like the opposite of Silco, action vs planning, chaos vs control, thrives on combat vs. avoids it, tinkering vs. no tinkering, loner who doesn't play well with others vs. leader of people. There is comparatively few instances where we see Jinx mimic Silco's actions and behavior all that closely (like using gas/gas masks).

Like at the most you can argue that what she is is still within his own interests or that maybe he is making her what he wishes he could be ? But she is still very much not all that much like him even when she is at her most Jinx-y, before Vi comes back. He does try to pass on some of the lessons he found valuable for himself (I think leaving my old self behind worked for me, so I'm going to tell you to do the same) but he isn't really making her a copy of himself. To me it seems like he gives her freedom to decide a lot of the details for herself.

I still think that what makes the situation with Jinx and Silco so unique is not so much that he is a bad person, but the power he has to protect her and himself from consequences. If Silco was not the powerful owner of Shimmer in a relatively lawless world but just a vindictive little wanna be terrorist in our world and he had gotten his hand on Powder somehow, he would likely still have tried to infuse her with his ideology but they very quickly would have run into a situation where they have to make a lot more real cost/benefit choices.

Normally if you are violent and meanspirited and chaotic, you experience pushback from the world. Silco would have had to make the choice "okay, do I keep letting her be violent if it means that the police is going take her away from me? Or do I suppress some of her outward violent tendencies not because it is the right thing to do but just because it is in my personal interest not to lose her". Or if his group was small then goons threatening to leave him would be a much greater loss that doesn't just put his plans in danger but probably also his and Jinx's safety and his ability to provide for her.

That's I tend to read this story less as "this is what happens when you put a nice girl in the hands of a mean and violent father" and more "this is what happens if you put a person in a situation where they are completely unrestrained from indulging into their id (which has likely been shaped by living in a fucked up world)". And so the show artificially constructs a situation to make this possible. A father with no moral boundaries that would cause him to say stop, a world where no controlling bodies like CPS or at least slightly effective law enforcement exist, a position of power for the father that he can stop any normal bystanders who might have a problem with the negative consequences the behavior causes them, and a fairly convoluted reasons for why her family is gone.

Overall Silco's parental style seems to be more about these lack of boundaries/protecting her from the consequences of her actions. We see him give her some minor negative reinforcement for her violence (yelling at her for the dead enforcers/kind of pulling her off the squad and telling her to go tinker instead for shooting at allies in the Firelights fight), but it stays pretty toothless because he gets distracted from it very easily or she just ignores what he was trying to impose. I'm trying to remember, do we ever really get a scene where he rewards a concrete action?

He gives her generic positive validation on her person (You are perfect/You can do this/You are strong now), but I'm struggling to remember a concrete "great job/you did that well". Now she definitely gets second hand reinforcement by defending her to others (compared to Mylo smack-talking her) and that definitely giver he information of what is valuable in his world ("The Firelights were her target and most are dead."), but overall in the time period we see we don't really get to see much of him giving concrete positive feedback on actions, I think?

Which might be a combination of the circumstance (we enter the story at a point where Jinx is slipping a lot and then once Vi is back they are generally somewhat adversarial) or that Silco generally doesn't seem like a very happy/smiley person (that's why even when she does something very well like getting the hextech crystal he isn't exactly joyfully swinging her around and laughing from happiness (again going back to the debate of creating sadism (intentionally or unintentionally through direct abuse or concrete positive reinforcement [again indifference to human life is useful in Silco's world, pointless sadism not necessarily]. So extrapolating from that I tend to perceive his style in general to be more like that, letting her run/grow wild (she has her own creatively designed space away from Silco, she makes up on missions on her own, she shows up in his office rather than being summoned, her space if cluttered including with stuff from her old life even though Silco presumably isn't a huge fan of old life stuff) as opposed to twisting her in a very focused and controlled way.

(and yes the reasons why he does leave her unrestrained in regards to her worst tendencies/doesn't see that as a bad thing necessarily is definitely routed in extremely skewed perspective of the world with varying factors of "ehhh, debatable" (Violence is useful in a world that is violent/if the world is mad and cruel then madness is the appropriate reaction) to "yeah extremely selfish and fucked up" (I don't want/need other family in my life, so Jinx doesn't need other people either) )

[wkemeup]

Sunrise (8)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 5.3k warnings: sweet happy beautiful bucky, a unpleasant reminder of the past, whiplash of emotion, the angst I warned you about 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

Bucky wasn’t quite sure how to hold onto this feeling without suffocating it.  

It had been nearly a year since he’d felt even an ounce of the relief like what washed through his body when you walked through the door. All it took was a single smile from across the room, the soft brush of your hair over your fingers as you nervously tucked it behind your ear, and he was gone.  

Enough for his cheeks to ache from smiling. Enough for his stomach to twist and knot from laughter. Enough for the wrinkles by his eyes to draw long and pronounced— the physical embodiment of joy upon his face.  

He wasn’t walking on eggshells, waiting for the carpet to be dragged out from under his feet, for the paralyzing darkness of an empty void to consume him whole. The shadows weren’t lingering in his wake, itching to clench their claws into his spine and drag him away from the one thing that finally drew light back into his life.  

For the first time since he stepped back on American soil, Bucky Barnes was happy. Truly and honest to God, happy.  

“So! What do you think?” your voice called to him, breaking the trance he’d been in. 

“Hmm?” Bucky blinked a few times to adjust to his surroundings. You were laughing at him, a hand over your lips in an effort to muffle the sound. Behind you, a woman directed a pointed stare in your direction despite the busy chatter inside Luciana’s.  

“The book, Bucky,” you grinned, tapping on the edge of the binding.  

He glanced down. The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue sat propped in his right hand, the clip you’d given him the first day of book club nestled in at the center to keep the pages open. Truthfully, he hadn’t read a single word of it since he sat down with you an hour ago. His attention had been better kept watching how you tugged your lower lip between your teeth in concentration, how your eyes widened at a particularly suspenseful part of your chapter, how you clicked your nails against the coffee mug in perfect rhythm with the café music.  

“It’s good,” he said, though you pouted at him. 

“Bucky you’ve been on the same page for twenty minutes!”  

Busted. He shrugged, a laugh in his breath.  

“Guess there were better things to look at.” 

Your lips parted for a second, caught off guard, before you settled back into your seat. Your hands wrung out in front of you, eyes darting down the floor. It wasn’t easy to make you flustered, but damn if it was Bucky’s favorite feeling in the world.  

“Don’t insult my books like that, Barnes,” you teased, lingering smile upon your face.  

“Wouldn’t call it an insult,” he said simply. “There’s not much that can hold a candle when you’re around.” 

The stun didn’t leave your face for a few seconds. You stared at him, then glanced around the room nervously as if he’d said something incredibly intimate. He couldn’t remember the last time this came so easy to him – the flirting, the charm. It was something he’d thrived on before the war and now, it seemed you brought that side out of him again.  

“You’re a charmer today,” you observed, laughing through the nervous energy. “What’s gotten into you?” 

“Nothing.” Bucky shrugged, reaching across the table to break off a piece of your pastry and plopped it into his mouth. “I’m happy. Can I be happy?” 

You nodded quickly, almost a little too enthusiastically, with a smile so wide on your face he wondered if it were possible for it to touch your ears.  

“Yeah. Yeah, you can be happy.” The words left your lips almost breathlessly. You were looking at him like he was the goddamn sun and damn if that didn’t tug straight at his heart. “I like you happy.” 

“I like me happy, too,” Bucky chuckled. He glanced up at the clock. “Come on, we should head over to the VA.” 

You downed the rest of your coffee in a single chug and set the cup on the counter. Luciana waved at you as you moved towards the exit, Bucky in tow, and she winked at him as he passed by. He nodded, offering her a tight-lipped smile as he stepped out into the cool Autumn air. Your hand naturally slipped into his and you tugged him along the sidewalk.  

“Promise me you’ll actually pay attention to Steve’s spiel instead of staring at me the whole time,” you teased him as you walked over the crosswalk, nudging his side.  

Steve was giving a presentation at the VA for the open house; explaining the benefits, the groups, different opportunities, and the respite rooms. It was a big deal apparently and helped to bring a lot of former soldiers into the fold. It was one of your favorite days because there was usually an increase of members at book club for a few weeks after.  

“No guarantees,” Bucky replied, face as even as he could manage it. That was, until you swatted his chest and he burst into laughter, drawing the attention of a group of teenagers who eyed him as they walked by. Their lingering stare meant nothing to him when he stood at your side.  

When you reached the VA, you pushed open the door, considering his hand was otherwise occupied, and led him inside. There were dozens of people in the lobby, certainly more than he’d ever seen inside. Men and women were mingling around the tables, some sitting on the couches, with paper plates of cheese and crackers from the grocery store.  

Tony stumbled by carrying about four boxes filled with cookies, barely keeping his balance.  

“I could use a little help, kid!” he called, eyeing you as he frantically made his way to the kitchen.  

“Coming, Tony!” You turned to Bucky, smile still present on your face as you ran a hand along his arm in comforting sweeps. “Will you be alright?” 

“Yeah, I’m good. Go.” 

Maybe if he looked close enough, he might have seen a well of pride on your face, but you didn’t give him the chance before you leaned up and pressed a kiss straight to his lips— no cares for the crowd in the room or the fact that Sam and Steve were lingering around the VA somewhere. Bucky couldn’t find it in himself to worry about the stares because, hell, maybe he wanted people to know you were the woman he had the privilege of kissing. 

“Go,” Bucky said again, pulling away from you reluctantly as a clanging could be heard from the kitchen, followed by an aggravated moan which could have only belonged to Tony Stark. You pouted, stealing one last kiss before bolting down the hall and out of sight.  

Bucky spent a few extra seconds staring down the end of the empty hallway before he turned back to the room. The crowd didn’t bother him as much as it might have a few months earlier. He didn’t feel the same rush of anxiety in his veins as he felt on busy streets, but it didn’t mean he was explicitly comfortable either.  

So, he kept to the outskirts of the room, standing along the wall and observing quietly from the corners.  

The event seemed to be going well. He’d spotted Steve mingling with a group of older guys with long white beards and biker jackets, laughing as they told him about their adventures biking cross country. Sam found his way over to the couch beside a few of the guests who had busied themselves with the food instead and even found a way to get them talking to one another. Bucky kept his hand pressed into his pocket, a semblance of a smile on his face as he watched Sam pick a chip of the plate of the woman he was talking to without reservation. 

It was a good place. A respite. Just like Sam had told him it would be. Bucky found a sense of normalcy in this building he couldn’t have hoped to find out in the real world alone— a belonging – and he knew a lot of that had to do with you.  

He was just about to head down to the kitchen to see if you needed any help when he heard a voice that ran like ice through his veins. What it had said was indistinguishable, but Bucky could recognize the thick grovel of the tone almost anywhere. Slowly, he glanced over his shoulder, trying to remain as small as possible, as he spotted Jack Rollins emerging from the entrance.

With slicked jet-black hair, hardened angular lines upon his face, and a permanent scowl etching down on his features, Jack Rollins was not a man Bucky ever wanted to see again. He spoke with the two men in his wake, gesturing to a woman who was standing quietly by herself, reading the flyers on the bulletin board, as if he were stalking prey.  

Bucky’s heart was thunderous as he took a step back. His black slammed against the wall, catching the breath in his lungs. His fingertips brushed over the chill of the pealing wallpaper, trying to find his grounding before Rollins noticed he was there. But luck was never so kind to him.  

It only took one scan of the room before Rollin’s eyes landed on Bucky. He stilled, just as surprised to see him, but then, something dark twisted upon his features. 

“Sergeant Barnes!” he called over the crowd, a jeering sort of laugh in his voice. 

Bucky gritted his teeth, forcing himself to meet Rollins in the eye. “Jack.” 

“Been over a year, man. How you been?” Rollins was conversational only in statement. His tone was near threatening, his men following behind him like a shadow. Dark eyes trailed down along the empty sleeve on Bucky’s side, a smile rising on his face.  

Bucky tried to pretend as though he didn’t notice. “Recovering. You?” 

“Yeah, I bet you are.” Rollins chuckled. Then, he puffed his chest up. “I’ve been working for the private sector.”  

That didn’t surprise him. Rollins always had an affinity for the darkest parts of the job overseas. He took too much pleasure in the use of his weapon, paid no mind to the destruction left behind in his wake. Rollins was exactly the sort of man the military hoped to produce; follow chain of command without question, find purpose in your mission, execute without remorse. Seemed he found more of the same when he returned home. Only this time for a bigger paycheck.  

Bucky could still picture him dressed in army camouflage with the weight of near forty pounds of combat gear on his back, finger always on the trigger. It felt a bit like that now, Bucky realized, as Rollins narrowed his eyes as if he were going in for the kill.  

“You know, Barnes,” Rollins shrugged, exchanging a snide grin with his friends, “I’m a little surprised you’d even show your face around here after what happened. Takes guts.” 

Bucky swallowed as though there weren’t blades in his throat. He tried not to let the hitch in his breath show or how his stomach dropped about ten feet below the surface. Instead, he pressed his lips together into a thin line, holding Rollins’ stare as if he were made of stone.   

“You should leave,” Bucky said, his voice low enough to break gravel.  

“Me?” Rollins mocked, laughing as he turned to his friends. Then, facing Bucky again as a darkness clouded over his features. “That's rich, coming from you.” 

Bucky held his breath. He tried to draw on images of you sitting across from him at Luciana’s, how you smiled at him, how you made him feel like he didn’t carry such a heavy weight upon his back. He pictured you curled up next to him in your bed, imprints of the pillow on your cheeks and the covers pulled up tight to your chin. He imagined how your hand felt in his, how it brushed along his back, how your lips felt on his cheek, on his mouth.  

But those pictures started to fade the longer Rollins stared at him, that devilish smirk upon his face as he ran a hand along his jawline, cracking his knuckles against the bone. Those comforting images of you sunk into the darkness, pulled from him somewhere far beyond where he could reach and suddenly, he felt like he was standing on a pillar at the center of the ocean, nothing but violent waves surrounding him for miles. Alone.  

“I mean, what the fuck are you doing here, Barnes?” Rollins jeered, picking up a cookie from the table, inspecting it for a moment before he tossed it back on the platter. It crumbled on impact. “You think you even deserve to step foot in this building after what you did?”  

“It didn’t go down like you think,” Bucky shot back, his voice uneven, wavering, as if he didn’t quite believe it himself.  

He tried to repeat the words that Sam had worked to instill in him again and again for months after he came home. They never seemed to stick until the last few weeks but now – now they felt as far away as ever.  

I did everything I could. 

Some things are outside of my control.  

It wasn’t my fault. 

He wasn’t sure he believed that with Jack Rollins circling around him like a vulture, amused by the distress quickly forming against Bucky’s features.  

From across the room, Sam stood up from his place on the couch, a hand gesturing over to Steve as he caught sight of Rollins. Bucky retreated in his stance, feeling as though Rollins was towering over him, his chest caving in. Rollin smirked, teeth bared and ready to strike.  

With venom like precision, Rollins spat, “You’re the reason half our unit is dead, asshole.” 

It hit like a sucker punch to the gut, made him stumbled back a few paces as if he were clocked in the chest. The initial blow only lasted for a few seconds before the overwhelming sense of shame seeped back into his veins, slipping through his blood like muddied waters and stealing away the careful, steady progress he’d made.  

Then, a lingering acceptance as it cleared him to the surface. 

A numbness took over, casting back to the shadows inside his mind. It was what he’d been waiting for since the day he’d stepped foot off that plane – for someone to confirm all the destruction and self-loathing he’d felt since that day.  

Rollins was right.  

I could have saved them. 

I could have prevented all of it. 

It was my fault. 

He’d been foolish to convince himself otherwise. 

“Hey!” Sam barked, jutting out in front of Bucky and shoving a hand to the middle of Rollin’s chest as he attempted to draw closer. “What the fuck is your problem, man?” 

“My problem? My problem is you’re letting just about anyone walk through those doors!” Rollins shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Bucky. “Your buddy here is responsible for eight of our own coming home in caskets!” 

Bucky flinched, visibly recoiling as if something had burned him, and it seemed to be the reaction Rollins was looking for because a snide grin slid up along his cheeks.  

Steve was suddenly on his left, a hand pressed to his shoulder. He was whispering something in his ear, but he couldn’t quite hear him. He could hardly make out what Sam was shouting as he attempted to push Rollins towards the door. A crowd was gathering – standing in watch to observe the shame of a soldier who should have burned in the desert with his friends.  

“What’s going on?” 

Bucky’s heart dropped at the sound of your voice as you appeared on his right. He didn’t know how long you’d been there or what you heard, but it was the first time he ever regretted allowing himself the luxury of your presence, of your warmth and kindness. You should have been an anchor beside him, but he could feel the rope slipping from his grip, letting him sink down into the ocean or float high into the clouds – somewhere far away from where you were.  

You ran your hand along his arm, trying to thread an ounce of comfort back into his body, but he was rigid as stone. The touch was paralyzing. It was a reminder of his emptiness, of his ill attempt to be worthy of your affection. You seemed to notice as you stared up at him, worry filling your eyes.  

“Ah, so you’ve got a girl now, too?” Rollins sneered towards Bucky, shoving Sam aside.  

“Leave her out of this,” Bucky warned, his voice returning to him only in your defense. He stepped out in front of you, shielding you from Rollins’ gaze.  

It only seemed to amuse him more. “Tell me, sweetheart. What’s it like? I mean, can he even get the job done? You wanna try being with a real man again?” 

It was Sam that roared in response. “Watch your fucking mouth!” 

Your hand rested on Bucky’s shoulder blades as if you were trying to ease him but he felt like he was on fire. Rollins shoved Sam aside to get a better look at you, a predator going in for the kill.  

Rollins’ cold eyes stared directly into yours and Bucky felt his breathing stop.  

“Did you know half of our unit died under his watch?”  

Everything became white noise after that. Bucky didn’t dare turn to look at your reaction, nor could he hear Sam’s defense or Steve’s angry shouts as Rollins continued his taunts. He didn’t know how it happened, but suddenly, Rollins was on the floor. Sam was shaking his hand out, holding his fist against his chest. 

Rollins stumbled his way back to his feet with a vengeance, folding his hands into fists as he charged at Sam. 

“Get him out of here!” Steve’s muffled voice called to you as the crowd began to swarm in. Former soldiers joining the chaos, cheering or barreling fists. A man bumped into Bucky’s shoulder, but there was no trace of a reaction on his face. He was empty. He was numb.  

Bucky could vaguely feel your hand as you slipped it into his pocket, drawing his own to intertwine between your fingers and you tugged him down the hall. He knew better than to look over his shoulder at the mess he was leaving behind.  

*** 

You took Bucky into the empty library, quickly closing the door behind you to muffle the sound of the shouting down the hall. Bucky stood at the head of the couch, his eyes downcast.  

“Are you alright?” You knew there was no good answer. It was a foolish question. And still -- you asked. 

Your hands slid along Bucky’s chest, up to his shoulders to try and draw some of the tension away, and for the first time, he recoiled under your touch. Your hands quickly dropped down to your sides as you took a few steps back, hands held tightly in front of you. A flash of remorse covered his features as he looked at you, but then the stone swept back in its place and hardened the softened edges you adored. You pushed aside the splinter inside your chest.  

“Who was that guy anyway? He seems like a real piece of work.” You laughed, though it was tense and forced. Bucky didn’t so much as crack a smile.  

It was silent for a moment. The only sound coming from the low hum of the radiator in the corner of the room. Bucky’s gaze was fixated on the carpet, staring at the years’ faded stains and the dust bunnies at the foot of the couch. A terrible aching tugging down on his lips, on his eyes, on his cheeks, and he barely resembled the man who had teased you over coffee at Luciana’s just an hour earlier.  

“He was right, though.” 

You swallowed, daring to ask, “what do you mean?” 

“I'm the reason half my unit is dead,” Bucky replied flatly. When he looked at you again, you found his eyes were red, his lips swollen from chewing on the edges. His right hand had indents in his palm from where he’d dug his nails into the skin. Your stomach lurched.  

“Oh, Bucky.” Your heart broke at the sight of him. “That... That can’t be true.” 

He didn’t say anything, but the grit in his teeth was enough to tell you that he believed it. You’d only seen glimpses of how the war had touched him, how it cast shadows over the man he’d been before he stepped on that plane and adorned the uniform, but now – now, it felt like those shadows had consumed him whole. He couldn’t so much as see the soft rise of the sun over his shoulder. He was too swept up in the embrace of darkness. The light couldn’t touch him where he stood shielded by night.  

“Why don’t we go to my place?” you offered, inching a step closer. When he didn’t retreat, you gathered his hand into your own. While he didn’t pull away again, you could feel the reluctance in his grip, the rigidity in his stance. “I can make dinner and we'll throw on a movie, okay? Let’s just get out of here.” 

Your right hand slid along the side of his face, cupping at his cheek. He usually leaned into the touch, pressed a kiss to the inside of your palm. Instead, the most he could force out was a tight-lipped smile that did not touch his eyes. You could practically feel how hard he was clenching his jaw, the muscle tired and aching. Still, he nodded. 

As you led him out the back exit of the VA, you glanced behind you to see Rollins sitting on the floor, nursing a bloody nose as a police officer stood over him, jotting down notes as he spoke with Steve. Sam caught your eye for a second, nodding in your direction. A relief washed through you and you tugged Bucky outside before anyone could notice him slip out.  

It was silent the whole walk to your apartment. It wasn’t entirely unusual, but it was the first time the air carried a lingering sense of discomfort in it. You wondered what was going on in Bucky’s head, how badly he’d construed whatever Rollins had said to him, even before you arrived. Sam had told you of Bucky’s self-destructive habit of carrying guilt far heavier than he could carry, guilt that didn’t belong to him. He seemed to welcome it like it was made for him. He didn’t mind if it ripped him apart and left him broken and empty when it was done. He seemed to think it was what he deserved.  

You squeezed his hand, hoping it might draw back a sense of comfort, but he kept his eyes forward on the empty streets ahead. His hand was little more than limp in your hold.  

*** 

Bucky was just on the edge of sleep when it began to creep up on him. Slow at first, and then, sudden, in violent flashes. 

Sweltering heat. The low rumble of a jeep. An infectious laugh on his left and the cold compress of a gun in his hands. A sudden stop.  

Bucky gritted his teeth, trying to turn away from the images attempting to draw him under, to sweep him beyond the current, to drown him in the darkest parts of the depth. But the riptide caught hold of his leg and forced him underwater.  

Heavy equipment on his back. Sand under his feet. The sun blinding in his eyes.  

He swallowed, but his throat was lined in rust. It burned. He couldn’t breathe.  

A reflection over a valley. Someone shouting. Screaming. Warning. Frantic.  

The kid. Get to the kid! 

Then – the heat of a fire scorching his skin. Ringing in his ears. Muffled. Agonizing silence. Blood on the sand, on his shoes, dripping down his side and soaking into his uniform.  

Pain. So much pain. So much pain. So much— 

Bucky’s eyes shot open. He sucked in a breath of air and it came in short and shallow, barely filling his lungs, and he was panting for more. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, gasping for breath until he took enough in that the dizziness started to subside. His forehead was lined in sweat, his right hand shaking uncontrollably as he gripped at the sheets.  

It was as mild as it’s ever been – the nightmares. Usually, he woke up screaming, his voice so raw it ached until morning. He thrashed and kicked and drew blood until something finally jarred him awake. He’d broken the lamp beside his bed four times in the weeks after he came home. It was violent and messy, and it was a damn miracle he’d only felt a sliver of it tonight.  

But it had been so long since he had one. He almost thought they had finally released him from their hold before Rollins showed up. For a while, they let him be happy. He should have known better than to expect it to last.  

The mattress dipped slightly behind him and with a sharp hilt, Bucky suddenly remembered where he was.  

He turned over his shoulder to find you laying on the bed beside him, hair cast up and around you against the pillow, eyes closed, the steady rhythm of your breaths indicating you were still fast asleep. He stilled for a moment, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the light scrunch in your nose.  

You’d tried so hard to get him to smile the whole evening after what happened at the VA. Constant touches to his cheeks, along his arm, playing absentmindedly with his hand. You made him dinner and curled up against him as you put on a movie that you were certain would turn his mood around, but he remained stoic and cold until you finally resigned to the bedroom.  

He could tell how exhausted you were. Even reaching for his hand, there was a helplessness in your grasp, but you’d begged him to stay, insisting you didn’t want him to be alone after what happened at the VA. You held him tight to your chest, told him over and over again that you didn’t care what Rollins said, you knew he was a good man and that was all that mattered. 

Bucky wanted so badly to believe that.  

But here you were – so beautiful, a light, something good in his life he didn’t deserve.  

Sam would kill him for giving into those thoughts again, but all he had in his head was violence and agony and there you were – so peaceful and soft and kind. He'd taint you with all the mess threatening to break through his seams. He’d hurt you. He'd break you. You couldn’t hold him together no matter how hard you tried. He didn’t deserve such kindness. Today reminded him of that.  

Bucky leaned in and pressed a short kiss to your temple. It was feather light and still, you sighed in your sleep. He tried not to notice when the corners of your lips curved up into a smile.  

Then, he crept out of the room, stealing one last look at you as you turned onto your side, arms crossed over your chest protectively. Something tugged inside his chest, begging him to stay. He could feel it pushing him back toward the bed, to your embrace and the comfort it brought, but he turned his back. He ignored his every instinct to return to your side and dragged his feet of the bedroom instead.  

Despite his reluctance, he found himself lingering on the photograph in your hallway of the Air Force pilot; sandy blonde hair, a tight-lipped smile, features that made him look younger than he probably was. A pang of jealousy wretched into his stomach at the sight of this nameless man. Shame quickly followed. 

You never spoke of the man in the photo – the nameless Air Force pilot who stood at your side in front of your parents. The way you pressed out a smile despite your tears, the position of your stance angled closer to the pilot as if to preserve your last remaining moments together, made Bucky question what had happened to this man. This was clearly a man you had loved. Might still love. 

Bucky didn’t dare allow himself to wonder if he had ever measured up. He supposed now he would not get the chance. 

Bucky let out a sigh as he turned away from the picture. He made it all the way to the door before he heard the squeak of the floor boards behind him. 

“Bucky?” 

Sleep was still etched in your voice. You yawned as you folded your arms, squinting at him to adjust to the dim light in the kitchen. Bucky clenched his jaw, reluctantly turning to face you.  

“It’s the middle of the night,” you said, eyes flickering to the clock above the stove. It was then you must have noticed the jacket draped over his shoulders, boots on his feet, hand begrudgingly releasing the door knob. Your face fell. “Where are you going?” 

He didn’t know what to say. Was there an easy way to break your heart? Was there any excuse that could allow both of you to walk away from this unharmed? There was no good answer, but his silence certainly was worse.  

“Bucky?” you tried again and he could hear the inflection of concern etched into your tone. You took a step closer to him and he held himself firm. He was stone now. It was what he had to be.  

“I’m sorry,” he muttered out, voice low, though he met your eye. “I can’t do this.” 

If you were still half asleep a moment ago, you weren’t anymore. Your eyes widened, lips parting. Your arms fell down to your sides.  

“What... What are you talking about?” you exhaled, barely above a whisper. He could hear the hurt in your voice, the confusion, and he hated himself for it. You stepped closer, reaching out for his hand. “Please, just come back to bed. You look like you haven't slept for—” 

Bucky pulled his hand away the moment you touched his fingers. It forced a hitch in your breath, a step back. You hadn’t expected him to recoil from you like that. Two times in the same day. You were losing him, the realization clear in your eyes. He was slipping and he would not take the tether as you threw it to him.  

“This is about what that man said at the VA, isn’t it?” you asked timidly, your lip quivering. You shook your head, trying to hold back tears though Bucky could practically hear the tension from the lump in your throat. “He was... he was just being cruel. I don’t believe a word of it. And neither does Sam or Steve – the people that love you, Bucky. Don’t give in into him. Don’t let him win.” 

Bucky didn’t say anything, rendering his reaction colder than you deserved. 

You reached out for him again, a habit, though you pulled your hand back to your chest before you could touch him. It was shaking.  

“Honey, please,” you tried again, unwilling to give up on him like you should. “Come get some rest and maybe you’ll feel better in the morning. Just... don’t go. Don’t be alone with this.” 

You were begging. He could hear it in your voice. The desperation. And still—Bucky offered you nothing in return. 

He sank so far inside himself you couldn’t reach beyond the cliffside to offer your hand. All it took was a single push. He was already standing so close to the edge. Rollins had set a hand on his back, like an old friend, like an enemy, and shoved. Bucky didn’t even try to catch his fall.  

“Whatever this is...” Bucky murmured and eyes focused down at the tile, unable to look at you as he broke your heart, “it’s over.” 

His heart was splintering as he said it and still, he turned and left without another word. He didn’t wait for your response, didn’t wait to see whether his cruelty had ended in tears, and closed the door behind him. You didn’t attempt to follow.  

You’d understand eventually, he convinced himself. Even a woman as compassionate and loving as you couldn't possibly love a man so broken, with jagged edges and open wounds, with shards of glass embedded inside him and poison in his touch. Empty and hollow. Broken.  

[when-i-was-your-angel]

A Favor

James “Bucky” Barnes x Reader

5,584 words

Y/N, the Avengers resident seamstress, tailors a suit for Bucky. She cashes in her favor.

NSFW: Virginity Loss, Virginity Loss as a favor, Minor Alcohol Use, Lingerie, Fingering, Oral female receiving, oral male receiving, facefucking, deepthroating, praise kink, missionary, Bucky’s metal arm, curvy reader, minor insecure reader, body worship, hickeys, angst, fluff, smut, hurt comfort ending.

   Six months ago Bucky Barnes needed help. He couldn’t find a suit that fit right around his arm and having one tailored by a stranger was too uncomfortable. So, he approached Y/N. As the team’s resident seamstress, he had grown used to Y/N’s gentle hands and soft touches while she worked on various aspects of his tactical gear. This was different, though. This wasn’t work. This was a favor. Friends do favors. Bucky didn’t have friends. Especially not really pretty soft-spoken friends. But, Stark insisted he have a nice suit for some gala, so he asked.     

     Y/N had immediately accepted, saying it was no problem. It really wasn’t. Tailoring was her job after all. His suit ended up looking phenomenal and Bucky got quite a few compliments, making sure to tell everyone who designed his sleek black suit. Bucky offered to pay her but she refused. Bucky insisted on doing something to pay her back. They ended up agreeing that he owed her a favor.

       Over the time she was tailoring him, they grew close. Y/N and Bucky were unlikely friends, but they quickly became the best of them. Bucky would bring her lunch on Tuesdays and Thursdays, when he had nightmares he’d call her and they’d talk for hours, he brought her coffee in the mornings, and she brought him freshly made gloves every time he tore his open. They were just perfect for each other. Best friends and nothing more.

    Now, six months past the gala, Y/N has decided to cash in her favor. She’s pacing her small apartment. Her faded blue jeans hugged her hips as she walked and her blouse was unbuttoned slightly more than what would be considered professional. It was seven in the evening, Y/N had just arrived home from work. She had made plans with Bucky a week ago and he would be arriving any minute. She was in the middle of pouring herself a glass of wine when a knock came at the door. Y/N rushed over to it, smoothed her hair down, and opened the door.

    Bucky looked amazing. Dressed in dark jeans and that black fucking tee shirt. He had on his leather jacket and glove, but she knew he would take those off once inside.

    “Come in.” Y/N moved aside to allow him access and he smiled, taking his jacket off and putting it on her coat rack. His hair had grown out slightly, no longer trimmed close to the scalp. The realization made Y/N squeeze her thighs together in anticipation.

    “You want anything to drink?” Y/N asked, retreating to her kitchen to fetch her abandoned glass of white wine.

    “Water would be nice.” Bucky sat on her couch, waiting for her to return. Y/N made him a glass of water just how he liked it. Cool water from the fridge with no ice. He always said the cold hurt his teeth, but she knew he hated the way the cold glass felt on his metal hand.

    Y/N returned to the couch, sitting on the opposite end and tucking her legs underneath herself. She offered him his glass of water which he took with a muttered thank you.

    “So, what’s this about?” Bucky asked, taking a sip of his water. His left arm was draped around the back of the couch, his right arm in his lap holding his water. He had his left leg half-crossed over his right. He looked good. Casual. Like he belonged in the space.

    “I wanted to cash in my favor.” Y/N couldn’t look at him. Her eyes were glued to her hands in her lap. “For tailoring your suit.”

    “What, six months of the pleasure of my company wasn’t enough?” Bucky gave her a smile to try and lighten the mood but when he saw the look on her face he quickly grew serious.

    “What’s up, doll? Talk to me.” Bucky leaned forward and set a hand on her knee. Y/N looked down at his hand, then at his stark blue eyes, and took a large gulp of her wine.

    “Ok. So uh… the thing is... “ Y/N mumbled and trailed off, nervous beyond all belief.

    “Do you need money? Is Stark not paying you enough?” After she shook her head, Bucky spoke again. “What is it then?”

    “I- I need you to have sex with me.” Y/N said, looking up to meet his eyes. Bucky’s face was completely neutral. Not neutral- frozen, Y/N realized.

    “I know it’s totally unfair to ask this of you but please, just listen.” Bucky gave her a barely perceptible nod.

    “When I was in high school, I did everything right. I didn’t date, I didn’t party, I studied. That’s it. Then college came around and I couldn’t let loose like I wanted to. Studying and working was just too ingrained in me. So, I’ve never…” She trailed off, hoping Bucky would understand.

     “Never what?” With anyone else, Y/N would’ve thought they were messing with her. But Bucky had said it himself, he couldn’t lie to her. His face was genuine.

     “Never had sex, Buck.” Y/N looked down at her hands, picking at her fingernails.

     “You mean you’re a-”

     “Yeah.”

     “And you want me to-”

     “There’s no one I trust more than you.” Y/N met his eyes and saw the internal battle in them. He wanted to be there for her, but he didn’t trust himself. He eventually broke the thick silence to ask her a question.

     “But, you’re twenty-two. How have you never had sex?” Bucky brought a hand to rest on his jaw, looking like he was solving a puzzle.

     “I’ve gotten close. My ex-boyfriend he uh- he tried a few times. But it never felt right. It felt gross and I was so nervous I wanted to puke. After I wouldn’t put out, he dumped me.” Y/N tucked her knees under his chin, curling into herself.

     “Matt?” She nodded. “I knew he was a scumbag.” Bucky sat forward and took his head in his hands, running his hands through his hair.

     “Why does it have to be me, again?” Bucky asked, still staring at the floor.

     “Because I trust you more than anyone else. Because I know you won’t let things get weird between us.” Bucky looked up at her and smirked.

     “I hoped my charming nature might’ve played into it a bit.” He gave Y/N his signature shit-talking grin. She rolled her eyes and kicked him lightly. After a few seconds the air turned heavy between them.

     “You don’t have to. I won’t be mad or anything. I just-” She sighed. “I don’t want it to be some one night stand with a guy I’ve never met. I know it’s stupid but I-”

     “It’s not stupid. I understand.” Bucky turned to face her and took her hand in his.

     “You trust me?” He asked, his blue eyes piercing her hazel ones.

     “Yes.” She answered honestly.

     “Ok.”

     “Ok? Does that mean yes?” Bucky laughed softly at that.

     “Yeah, yeah. You’ve convinced me. Let me go freshen up, hm?” Y/N gave him a smile and a nod. “Be right back, doll.” Bucky stood up with a disbelieving shake of his head and walked to Y/N’s bathroom.

     Y/N took a deep breath and threw her hand to her face. She could feel the heat on her cheeks, searing her hand. She reached for her wine, forgotten on the coffee table, and downed the rest of the glass. God knows she needed liquid courage.

    Bucky returned and Y/N only stared at him as he approached. Her eyes wide in anticipation. Bucky stopped inches in front of her and offered his hand.

    “I ain’t taking you on the couch, doll.” Bucky said in his smooth voice. The words combined with the tone had her clenching her thighs, something that didn’t go unnoticed. He gave a small smirk as she took his hand and let him lead her to her bedroom. Once inside the room, he motioned for her to sit on the bed and she did so. He kneeled in front of her and took her hands in his.

    “You sure about this, sweetheart?” Bucky was incredibly kind in his words, making sure she was positive.

    “You’re only making me more sure, Buck.” Y/N smiled at him and couldn’t help her eyes glancing down at his lips. They were so close to hers. She looked back to his eyes and saw that they were on her lips.

    “Can I kiss you?” His voice was quiet and low as his breath fanned across her lips. She nodded and brought a hand to his jaw as he leaned in. The first kiss they shared was short. Barely three seconds. But when Bucky pulled away and saw her eyes half-closed and pupils blown wide, he went back for more. Their lips crashed together and all Y/N could think about was how soft he was. The pink lips on hers felt like pillows, the hands on her knees felt like clouds. His hands travelled her denim-clad thighs and reached her round hips. Bucky gave an experimental squeeze, eliciting a moan from Y/N. Bucky smiled into the kiss.

    Y/N ran her hands into his hair, tugging lightly on the strands. Bucky groaned and pulled away slightly, only to move his lips to her neck. He left small love bites, soothing the bruised flesh with his tongue. Y/N whimpered and gasped as he worked.

    “Sensitive there, doll?” Bucky whispered against her skin. She could only nod, lost in him. He chuckled and pulled away, tugging at her shirt in silent question. She leaned back and pulled her shirt over her head, revealing baby blue lingerie. A laced corset accentuated her full breasts. There were lacy straps descending into her jeans, leaving just enough to the imagination. Bucky’s eyes travelled her form greedily. His hands came to rest on her waist, thumbs caressing the thin fabric.

    “Christ, Y/N. You’re gonna kill me.” Bucky pushed his lips into hers again letting his hands roam her figure freely now.

    “You next.” Y/N said between kisses as she pulled on his shirt. Bucky separated from her to pull his black tee shirt off.

    “Don’t expect anything lacy, doll.” Bucky gave her a minute to catch a breath. Her eyes roamed his form. She brought her hands to his chest and let her fingernails scratch over his abs gently. Bucky gave a low groan in his throat and covered her hands with his.

    “Baby… Don’t start something you’re not going to finish.” Bucky met her eyes to gauge her reaction.

    “Who says I’m not going to finish? I fully plan on finishing.” Y/N gave him a smirk and scratched her hands on his chest again.

    “Fuck, you asked for it.” Bucky groaned and pounced on her. Her back hit the bed and he leaned over her, caging her between his arms. She arched her hips into his and felt his erection even through both of their jeans.

    “Too many layers. Need to- need to feel you.” Y/N spoke between kisses. Bucky nodded and started kissing her neck again, trailing his tongue down the exposed skin. He left open mouthed kisses on her stomach through the lace of her lingerie. He popped the button on her jeans and pulled the zipper down, slowly dragging the denim down her thighs. Once they were off her long legs, he saw the continuance of her lingerie.

   Baby blue garters were strapped to her thighs, connected to crotchless panties. Glistening folds peaked out from behind the lacy material. He let out a sigh at the sight. Bucky tripped trying to rid himself of his own jeans, making Y/N giggle. His eyes snapped back to hers, amusement dancing in the blue.

   “What’s so funny, babydoll?” He crawled over her again, his black boxers the only thing left restraining his aching cock. She looked up at him with a ditzy smile on her face.

   “You’re a super soldier and you’re a-” Her words were cut off by a moan as Bucky’s right hand swiped through her folds, gathering her wetness on his fingers.

   “What was that, doll? You were saying?” He smirked at her as his fingers toyed with her clit. She only whined and moved her hips, rutting against his hand. Bucky looked down at her heat then back to her face, lost in pleasure.

   “Shit, baby. You fucking my hand?” Y/N nodded as a red blush came to her cheeks. Bucky leaned in to kiss her neck some more, letting her get herself off on his hand. She whimpered something he couldn’t quite hear.

   “Hm?” He pulled away from her neck, a goofy smile on his face, feeling drunk on her skin.

   “Said more, Buck. Please.” Her eyes opened to meet his, pleading want showing in the hazel hue. Bucky smiled and nodded, kissing down her body once again. Seeing where he was going, Y/N spoke.

   “You don’t have to- oh. Oh.” Her hands flew to the sheets as Bucky’s tongue slipped through her folds. Bucky sat up and pulled her hands to his hair, encouraging her to pull on it. He returned to her cunt and lapped at her clit. Y/N shivered underneath his touch. All the things he was doing were new experiences for her and Bucky was making sure they were all amazing. His tongue moved down to her hole, prodding at the entrance gently. He hooked her thighs over his shoulders and brought a thumb to her clit, rubbing small circles.

   “Bucky…” Various expletives and combinations of his name fell from Y/N’s lips as Bucky worked. “Bucky, your fingers. Please.” Y/N’s light gasp filled the air. Bucky nodded against her and brought his flesh hand up to tease her slit. Y/N caught the hand in her own and shook her head.

   “I want…” She trailed off, the embarrassment too much.

   “Want what, doll?” Bucky left small kisses on her thighs in reassurance.

   “I want the metal one.” Bucky’s eyes went wide at her words.

   “You- you want this? This turns you on?” He held up his hand, black and gold shimmering in the dull light of her bedroom. He had a look of pure confusion on his face. His hand was not something to be used here, with her. It was hard and cold and unforgiving, all things she was not. “Are you sure-”

   Bucky’s words were cut off as Y/N took his metal hand and lifted his index finger to her mouth, wrapping her swollen lips around it. She took the finger into the base, letting the tip hit the back of her throat. She coated it with her saliva and as she pulled it away there was a trail of wetness leading to her mouth.

   “Fuck… Christ, Y/N. You’re gonna give me a heart attack.” He pulled his metal finger from her grip and brought it to her heat, teasing the entrance with the first knuckle. She shivered and arched her back into his touch, trying to get more of him inside her. He slowly pushed the black and gold finger in, curling it experimentally. Y/N let out a pornographic moan when his finger brushed one particular spot. Bucky smirked.

    “Found you.”

    He brought his lips back to her clit, alternating between short licks and sucking the bud into his mouth. His finger maintained a steady pulse, hitting her G-spot with every movement. He could feel her clenching around his finger, her pussy pulling him in further.

   “You gonna cum, baby?” Bucky asked quickly, not wanting to take his mouth from her sweetness for any elongated time.

   “Yes, Bucky, Please, I’m so close.” She gripped his hair, pulling on it as she had imagined doing earlier.

   “Cum for me, doll. Cum all over my fucking metal hand.” The gentle vibrations of Bucky’s voice and the reminder of what exactly was making her feel so good sent her careening over the edge, holding onto his hair to keep her grounded in her body.

   “Bucky! Fuck, yes. Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop.” Her hips moved against his face, prolonging her orgasm. Bucky moaned into her center, enjoying the view of a beautiful girl in blue lingerie riding his face. When her hips stilled and her breath slowed, Bucky pulled away, his face covered in her slick. A blush came over her face at the sight.

   “You embarrassed?” Bucky asked her, coming to crawl over her again. She nodded briefly.

  “Don’t be. C’mere, baby. Taste yourself. Fucking delicious.” He pulled her to him by the neckline of her corset, crashing their lips together. She licked at his lips and he moaned at the feeling. Y/N pulled away and looked up at him with her swollen lips and darkened eyes. Bucky knew she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. He pulled the straps of the garters away from her body and let them snap back against her soft skin.

   “This needs to go.” Y/N hummed in agreement and looked at him mischievously. She hooked her leg under his and flipped them so he was on his back. His eyes widened in wonder and confusion, silently asking for an explanation.

   “Nat.”

   “Of course.”

   Y/N climbed off him and began pulling the various straps off her body. Slowly and teasingly, she became more exposed to him. Bucky palmed himself through his boxers as he watched, letting out small gasps every time a new segment of skin was unveiled. When she had taken the garters off, the only thing left was the corset. She reached behind her to unclip the buttons and let the garment fall to the ground. Bucky’s mouth dropped open as her breasts were finally revealed. She brought her arms to cover her chest, embarrassed. His gaze darkened and he reached his hands out, beckoning her to him. She climbed into his lap and his hands came to rest on the small of her back. He took her hands and guided them away from her chest.

   “Baby, shit, why’re you hiding these?” Bucky’s hands ghosted around the sides of her heavy breasts.

   “I don’t like them.” Y/N admitted honestly. Bucky’s eyes went wide and his mouth dropped in disbelief.

   “Y/N, believe me when I say, these are the best damn tits I’ve ever seen. Fucking beautiful.” Bucky leaned forward and captured a nipple in his mouth, circling his tongue around the nub. Y/N gasped as his metal hand came up to the other nipple, the contrast between his hot, soft, wet, mouth and his cold, hard, hand making her head spin.

  He pulled away from her to admire his handiwork. Red bruises on and surrounding her nipples.

  “Why don’t you like them?” He looked up to meet her eyes, a softness in them she didn’t get to see often.

  “The stretch marks…” Y/N looked down at her hands. Bucky pulled her chin up with his finger, forcing her to meet his eyes.

  “Baby. Do you realize who you’re talking to? Look.” He guided her hand to his left shoulder, shivering as her fingers ran over the scarred flesh.

  “I could give a shit less what scars you have. It just proves you’re strong. That you fought a battle and came out the other side. You’re beautiful.” Bucky raised himself up to press a kiss to her lips. Y/N smiled and shook her head, a blush covering her face. Bucky didn’t know how to convince her.

  “Let me prove it to you.” Y/N looked down at him. Bucky looked at her with earnest eyes. “Let me show you how beautiful you are.” Y/N was shocked at his gentleness. She had expected him to just have sex with her. She hadn’t predicted this level of intimacy. It was surprisingly… nice.

   “Ok.” Y/N said simply.

   “Ok? Gonna need something a little more enthusiastic than that, sweetheart.” Bucky’s words were teasing but she knew he was yet again making sure she was okay with this.

   Y/N threw her head back dramatically and exclaimed: “Take me! Take me and have your savage way with me!” Bucky roared with laughter and flipped her onto her back, kissing her lips gently.

   “That’ll do, doll.” Bucky kissed her neck gently and stood up.

   “Wait- what’re you doing?” Y/N asked. Bucky turned back to look at her, a bashful expression on his face.

   “I uh- I need a condom, doll. Unless you want a little me running around here.” Y/N let out a light laugh at the image. But something about the idea of a kid with Bucky’s eyes and her smile made her heart ache.

   “I mean, I’m on birth control. And I’m clean…” Bucky looks down at his hands. There was something more intimate about what she was asking him to do.

   “Yeah, me too. The serum it uh, keeps us from getting any diseases. STDs included. Lucky me, right?” Bucky gave a dry laugh and started walking back towards the bed. They were both suddenly a bit nervous. Y/N stood and took his hand, turning him so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. When she got on her knees in front of him, Bucky held out a hand to stop her.

   “You don’t need to-” Y/N gripped him through his boxers.

   “This is a learning experience right? Teach me how to do this too. For-” She took an uneasy pause. “For whoever comes next. Can’t be giving my first BJ to a stranger.” Bucky looked saddened by that. Whatever glimmer of emotion she thought she saw disappeared and he quickly reverted back to his normal self.

   “Yeah. Wouldn’t want that, hm?” Y/N looked up at him expectantly. Her eyes went from his boxers and back to his eyes.

   “Oh- right.” Bucky lifted his hips off the bed and slid his boxers off. His cock was at half-mast but was still shockingly large. Y/N’s eyes went wide. Gone were the nerves of a second ago. This was no longer present day Bucky, this was 40’s Bucky with all the swagger and charisma of a dashing young military sergeant.

    “Like what you see, doll?” Y/N rolled her eyes and looked up at him, awaiting instruction.

    “Ok, first, you’re gonna spit on your hand. Then start stroking.” Y/N obeyed. Bucky let out a loud hiss when her lubed hand touched his bare cock for the first time. She moved her hand up and down his shaft, twisting it slightly like she had seen in porn.

    “Fuck, sweetie. Just like that. Now, uh, lick the tip.” Bucky was already out of breath and Y/N decided she loved this. Loved seeing him come apart for her. Y/N leaned forward and placed an open mouthed kiss on the red tip. Bucky’s hips jutted into her mouth as he moaned.

    “Shit, sorry. Dunno what’s gotten into me.” Bucky looked down at her. Her eyes were half-closed, her lips were red and swollen, her neck was covered in marks that he had left… He knew exactly what had gotten into him. He just didn’t have the nerve to say it. It was times like these that Bucky Barnes really wished he could get drunk.

    Y/N kept stroking his cock as she pulled away to speak.

   “It’s okay. It was kind of hot.” She looked at him from under her thick eyelashes.

   “Yeah? You want me to do it again?” Bucky asked hesitantly.

   “Please.” Y/N replied.

   Bucky groaned and brought his hips a little closer to the edge of the bed.

   “You’re going to let me know if it gets too much at any time, alright?” Y/N nodded.

   “Open your mouth, doll.” Y/N did, opening as wide as she could to prepare for his girth. Bucky slid his cock into her mouth. “Breathe through- shit. Breathe through your nose, sweetheart. Relax your throat.” Y/N tried her best to obey his commands, sitting back on her heels to allow him to take full control. Bucky brought a hand to the back of her head, gathering her hair before starting to gently thrust into her mouth.

   “Fuck, baby. Feels so fucking good.” He looked down to see her staring up at him but the biggest shock was her hand between her thighs.

   “Are you- shit, are you touching yourself, doll?” She batted her eyelashes as if to say “What does it look like?” and he chuckled.

   “You look so good like this, baby. On your knees for me. Sucking- shit- sucking my cock like you were born to do it.” Bucky’s filthy words drew a moan from Y/N, sending vibrations through his cock. “Fuck! Oh- baby. Oh, god. This is gonna end a lot sooner than I’d like if we don’t stop.” Y/N made no move to pull away from him, continuing to let him fuck her throat.

   “Oh, is that what you want, hm? Want me to cum down that pretty throat of yours?” Y/N’s eyes fluttered closed as another moan escaped her. A shiver ran through Bucky’s body but he tapped her on the cheek. “Nuh-uh, babydoll. Wanna see those eyes. Those fucking eyes.” Y/N batted her eyelashes and moaned again. Bucky pulled out of her mouth suddenly. She pouted at him.

   “Doll- if I hadn’t stopped, I wouldn’t get to fuck you. That’s the whole point, right?” Bucky took her hand and pulled her to standing so he could kiss her. He pulled away so he could see her eyes flutter open, dizzy on him. “Those fucking eyes.” Bucky said with a smirk before picking her up and setting on the bed. She wrapped her legs around his waist and shivered when she felt his hot length on her thigh. Bucky looked at her one last time.

   “You sure, doll? I want this too, but I’ll go home with some major fucking blue balls if you’ve changed your mind.” Y/N threw her head back and laughed. Bucky only watched her, a soft smile coming across his face. How had he never noticed how beautiful her laugh was before?

   “I’m sure, Buck.” Y/N arched upwards to press a kiss to his lips.

   “Alright, then. What the lady wants…” Bucky reached between them and gripped his cock. He slid it through her folds a few times, gathering her wetness. Then he slowly pushed inside her with a loud groan from each of them. Bucky watched her face to gauge her reaction. A mix of pain and discomfort was painted on her features and it killed him. He hated hurting her but this is what she asked for. He continued pushing into her, inch by inch, trying to control his hips and keep from rutting into her. After a minute of tortuously slow moving, he bottomed out. A few tears had escaped Y/N’s eyes and he leaned down to kiss them off her cheek. Slowly, the look of pain disappeared from Y/N’s face.

   “Bucky-”

   “Yeah, doll?”

   “Please, move.”

   That was all it took to shatter his resolve. Bucky pulled out as much as she allowed him to, her pussy gripping him like a vice. He thrusted back into her warm depths, sighing at how well she took him.

   “So fucking tight, doll. Feels fucking heavenly.” Bucky’s fists tensed in the sheets beside her when she clenched around him.

   “Shit- oh. Someone has a praise kink.” Bucky muttered under his breath. Y/N nodded in desperation to hear him talk again.

   “You want me to keep talking? You like it when I talk to you, baby? Tell you how good you feel? How well you’re taking my cock?” Y/N shivered and her walls tightened around him.

   “Fuck, baby. You keep that up I’m not gonna last long.” Bucky propped himself up on his metal arm and reached his flesh one between their bodies, sticky with sweat. He rubbed gently at her clit as he thrusted, trying to time the rhythms together. Y/N cried out in pleasure, the sound music to Bucky’s ears.

   “Are you gonna cum, doll? Be a good girl and cum on my cock, yeah? Bet you look so fucking pretty when you cum for me.” Bucky kissed her neck sloppily, biting slightly on her pulse point. Bucky’s words and the new sensation sent her over the edge. Y/N’s hands gripped her pillow as Bucky sat back to look at her. She was beautiful as she came undone on his cock. She looked majestic. Holy. Like a goddess he’d get on his knees and pray to or a queen he’d serve until his dying breath.

   “Bucky, oh- baby. Just like- Oh-” Y/N shivered as her orgasm wrecked her, every thrust of Bucky’s hips prolonging the sensation. Bucky took in her post-orgasmic state.

   She was a mess. Her tits were sweaty and shiny as they bounced in the dull light of her bedroom. Her neck was covered in a smattering or bruises. She seemed to notice his gaze because she reached for him, pulling his face down to hers and kissing him roughly. She looked down to where their bodies met. Bucky’s eyes followed her own and he moaned in absolute delight at the scene. He closed his eyes quickly out of reflex. Protect himself. Protect Y/N. Don’t lose control. Y/N placed a gentle kiss on his nose and his eyes snapped open to meet hers.

   “Let go.” That simple sentence gave Bucky a gentle push over the edge and then he was falling. Not a hard fall with an ending that would leave him mentally unstable and minus an arm, but more of a pleasant roller coaster drop. He felt safe in her arms as he let go, shooting ropes of white cum inside her.

   “Y/N- fucking hell. Baby- So fucking good.” Bucky was very vocal as his hips slowed to a stop. His cock twitched from the oversensitivity. He knew he’d have to pull out eventually, but he wasn’t in any hurry. She was wet and warm and inviting and the world outside her bedroom was cold and cruel and unforgiving. Bucky knew he’d stay there forever if she let him.

   But that’s not what he was here for. Not for life, not even for the night. Just for an hour. Just until she’d had her cherry popped and she’d send him on his way like some kind of sick business deal. With great effort, Bucky convinced his body to pull from her soft depths, smearing cum and slick down her thighs. He stood and began gathering his clothes.

   “What- what’re you doing?” Bucky looked back at Y/N. She had her knees tucked into her chest and was staring up at him with those fucking eyes.

   “I’m leaving.” Y/N’s eyes drooped at his words.

   “Oh.”

   Bucky pulled on his boxers and elected to get changed out of her view- the harsh stare on his back was getting to be too much. He had his hand on the doorknob when she spoke.

   “Please- please don’t go.” This time when Bucky looked at Y/N, her eyes were rimmed with tears. He dropped his clothes and ran to her, cradling her face.

   “Why’re you crying, babydoll? What’s wrong?” His eyes sought hers, trying to understand what was happening behind them.

   “You were going to leave.” Y/N’s tears hadn’t fallen yet. She was always so strong. Bucky wished he knew how to make her feel safe enough to be weak.

   “I figured you’d want me to.” His thumb stroked her cheek.

   “No. I- I want you to stay. Please stay.” Y/N’s hands reached up and wrapped around his wrists, keeping them in place.

   “Then I’ll stay. I’ll stay, doll. Just please- don’t cry.” Bucky kissed her forehead and pulled her into his chest. If he felt a small wet spot growing where her head lay, he didn’t say anything.

   Eventually she pulled away from him. Y/N’s eyes met his and Bucky knew then- he was wrecked. Utterly, completely, wrecked.

   “Will you sleep with me?” She asked. He understood she meant sleep next to her in bed. Keep her warm with his touch and keep her mind calm with his presence. He nodded and she unravelled herself from his arms. She stood and tucked herself into her warm covers, beckoning for him to join her. Her body was naked still, but he didn’t care. Preferred it, actually. Not for any perverted reason. He had missed the feeling of warm flesh on his own. A body that wasn’t about to die underneath him. It was...nice.

  Bucky crawled into bed beside her, exposing his right side for her to cuddle into if she wished. She did. She laid her head on his shoulder and ran a hand up and down his stomach, tracing invisible patterns.

   “Thank you.” She said.

   “Anytime.”

   After a while, her breath evened out. He watched her back rise and fall. He knew he had to leave in the morning- but for now he’d allow himself to indulge in the simple pleasures of the smell of her shampoo and the way her heart beat in time with his.  

[crownlessliestheking]

THIS! Yes. This. And I think the issue especially with Mandos is that, in part, it highlights the stark difference between the Eldar and the Valar and their perceptions of the world -- as well as how they inhabit the world. Grief...should be a common thing, it should and in some ways is the clearest intersection between them, a thing that both can understand. The Valar grieve for what they lost even before the Eldar came along (the Lamps, etc), they grieve after the Darkening (again, for the lost light and lost peace), but this is conceptually incredibly different to what elven grief looks like, and even is. This is also, I think, not something that's considered very often; there's a lot of stuff that's staunchly anti-Valar and that won't suggest it, and similar there's stuff that's very pro-Valar that anthropomorphizes (Eld....amorphize? I don't know) them and therefore doesn't allow for this kind of thing, when in some ways it's a significant flaw in Valinorean society, especially in the First Age.

And so it is with death, probably, which is how we get Mandos. A place to think (in isolation) and heal, and maybe you have a good crying session with Nienna. For the Valar, who probably would get some good use out of this heavily internalized process (who might find it cathartic to cast off a lot of their fana and return to a semblance of what they once were before the Music, who contain multitudes and song), that's all good. For the Eldar...not so much. But again, that's just one possible way to look at it, in text! It would totally depend on the elf in question, and I think folks tend to emphasize this by saying that they return when they're ready (perhaps sometimes glossing over that certain elves may never be ready, or that others might simply wander the halls, lost, and think themselves in something akin to hell.) But also like OP has said, I just want to emphasize that like...blessed does not mean paradise. It doesn't mean blissful, or perfect, it doesn't have to mean Beautiful Things Forever and Ever. It isn't a place that rejects sadness and unhappiness; it's blessed because it's safe, because there's gods hanging out who take care of a whole lot of stuff and generally, people can do what they want. There's still grief there (imo, even before Miriel died, Elves who came on the Journey knew what grief and loss and death were) and I genuinely do think that there's some romanticization of it from the Calaquendi, especially in the early first age.

Anyway. Similarly, grief is something that the Amanyar elves and the Exiles (and all those who did not come to Valinor but perhaps ended up there, even after death) should also have in common, but the same difference in perspective is there. I cannot agree more with what's said about how the different groups process (or do not process) their trauma differently, how the Teleri don't go to Beleriand at all even when the Valar sanction it. I do think as well that we see a lot of...lumping all the elves in Aman (non-Exiles) together, regardless of the fact that their own reasons for staying will be vastly different, amongst individuals and amongst the clans, and regardless of their very, very different cultures. Which is fair enough, not everyone is looking to do a detailed sociocultural study in their Fourth Age fanfic (I'm generally not), but the nuance helps a lot.

taking a stab at the whole valinor trauma rebirth tragedy thing

without getting into the various iterations of mandos throughout its development, the fact that it shares the etymological root with angband (angamando in quenya) or its use as both a prison/punishment place and as the temporary "afterlife" of elves, I think it should be obvious why "mandos cures everything" doesn't work for most people. it's simply narratively unsatisfying. we know that, technically, spirits are solitary in mandos and don't tend to interact with each other, and we know (iirc) that nienna does most of the healing work, when those spirits don't reflect on things by themselves.

healing in complete isolation might work one rare time, but it's otherwise simply not how healing works, how adjusting to a new life works. being way too in your own head is discouraged. healing all your traumas because a goddess did it via magic counseling gives, at best, uncanny vibes, at worst erases the struggle and journey of adjusting, with help, into the life you're actually living. so people either say that spirits can actually meet in mandos and figure things out among themselves, or subvert the narrative and have people come out of mandos either not truly healed or only partially so, and needing the real living feedback of society to exist within it again. a reading which allows mandos to still function as a recovery, but whose achivement is to "prepare" for the journey of spiritual healing, to bring elves back to a stage where they're able to face the circumstances that generated their trauma (aka the living, embodied world, and maybe more precisely even the people involved in it).

this barely touches on the grievances that dead elves might have with the guys who are running this show. this isn't just feanorian followers (or the exiles more at large) who renounced the valar's authority, it can also be the avari, who now either get valinor or they get valinor. it can be the falathrim, who wanted to go to valinor and lost the chance. it can be those sindar who were waiting for a full intervention from valinor, and it didn't come until earendil came around. it's hard to envision healing within a system when the system itself is what you take issue with. it requires a personal compromise, or an acceptance of the system's authority, and that's simply not always possible, nor can fanworks always easily tackle it — which is also why I think fics where living relatives "bully" or like, strongly entreat, the valar into releasing specific elves from death are popular. it's one way of giving that specific problem a solution, though it may in effect be unrealistic. it's less about realism (I for one don't believe the Valar would ever do that) and more about trying to find a way through wanting to see those characters heal without having to bend and accept the system and its authority.

which also brings me to what comes after and the necessary divide, real or perceived, between people who were always in valinor and people who returned to life after conflict.

to put it simply, making sweeping statements about whether amanyar elves can understand the trauma of exiles and other reborn elves is not possible and in itself pretty silly. even the amanyar themselves don't perceive their experiences of trauma and the darkening in the same way! the teleri refuse to set foot in beleriand despite their own kin being there, and despite the fact that noldor and vanyar embark on a valar-sanctioned war. it's pretty obvious that their own internal experiences and cultural understanding of the darkening or of valar authority is still vastly different, that even going by the imprecise and generalising divide of clan, that trauma was processed differently. or not processed at all.

and then, would those who fight the war of wrath understand the trauma of a continent-wide collapse? yeah, surely in a sense they can, they live through it. but can they understand it from the point of view of a sinda who had lived in beleriand all their life and didn't simply come here with the understanding that this was war? who saw their home be destroyed slowly and painfully, and in the end, when the saving arrives, it's a saving with such an immense and heartbreaking price? maybe they can empathise, maybe they can't. the darkening, by the time of the war of wrath, is no viable term of comparison. even among the living, this isn't cookie-cutter.

so what of those who die and return? I think it's obvious, in the text itself, that someone can go through a death, real of metaphorical, return to their old home which has itself gone through some considerable trauma, and realise that no matter if both you and your home have changed, both have bled, you're still unable to readjust to it the way others can. other people who were with you in your journey can integrate, they find old friends and loves who help them in this. you can't. I'm obviously talking about frodo.

it's not the same for everyone and it will never be. and I do feel as though the reading of valinor being in itself unable to take back people who went through trauma is a push-back against the idea that valinor must inherently be blissful, healing, and perfect; but the text presents us many situations where the environment of valinor plants the seeds of dissatisfaction; the fact that it doesn't work as neatly as it seems is at the core of the early conflict in The Silmarillion (even without pointing out stuff like: troubled people, Frodo included, go to the gardens of Lorien in search of that healing and peace of mind that the rest of the land can't actually provide. it's just a land. it's mostly free of toil because there's literal gods providing things, but it's just a land). valinor is not perfect, but its status as blessed realm invites a certain unease in many readers. I believe this unease leads easily to cotradictory and equally extreme positions, ranging from "no one would or should feel out of place after rebirth" to "actually no one would understand the trauma of someone who died and returned".

plus, of course, the obvious: someone's trauma, collective or individual, and how people process it, doesn't somehow erase someone else's and how they process it. the two things can come in conflict with one another, but they're not, like, mutually exclusive.

[fanficshiddles]

My Sweet Rose, Chapter 1

From the imagine on imagine-Loki here.

Summary: Rosie got a job working at The Avengers tower with her cousin, Pepper. She’s only been there a week when Loki comes live there, to make up for his past deeds in New York. But this brings a lot of problems for Rosie.

Loki was her Daddy Dom. Who vanished one day without a word, leaving her completely broken and lost.

Note: Daddy/little dynamic & Flashbacks will be in Bold. I’m not sure how long this story will be, I’m thinking no more than 5 chapters though. But I saw the imagine and omg I love it, had to do something with it. Haven’t written anymore of it yet but just HAD to share the first chapter so far, oops! lol. 

-

Rosie had been working and living in the Avengers tower for a week now, it was going really well. And it was helping to keep her mind occupied, getting her back on her feet after such a rough year.

She was a PA for Stark, and the other Avengers if they needed anything too. It was helping her cousin, Pepper out a lot. As Stark was very demanding nowadays and the others were becoming that way too.

It was also good for Rosie. She’d had a really tough year. She met someone a few years ago in a BDSM club, it had been her first time there after spending months building up the courage to go. She was a little, and had been wanting to find someone that she could feel safe with to explore that side of her.

She met a man, who was charming and handsome. Kind, funny. They fell in love, or so she thought anyway. He was the perfect Daddy Dom for her, teaching her everything and looking after her. She adored and loved him so much. Which is why when one day he just vanished, it was all the harder for her.

He just never returned after saying he had to go home to visit his family, who lived in Iceland apparently. But he did that regularly and always returned to her. But not that time. To say she was heartbroken when there was not even a call or a text from him explaining why was an understatement.

His name was Loki. And it became clear what happened a few months later after his disappearance, she saw him on the news. Loki, the God Of Mischief, was trying to take over the world. She couldn’t believe it and thought she was dreaming when she realised it had was her Loki. He looked different in the heavy armour, he looked scary.

But she thought no wonder he left her, he was a God and a Prince after all. What would he have wanted with her in the first place anyway?

She had tried a couple of times to date someone else, but never made it past the first date. As they just… weren’t him. No matter how often she tried to just forget about him. It was difficult.

She’d fallen into a downward spiral, not even able to go to work. So she had lost her job and was on benefits for a while. She became really anxious and nervous.

But here, in the tower, she was trying to turn herself around again. It had been one man, even if he had been her first true love, in her heart anyway. She knew she would heal, in time. Even if it had been over a year.

Rosie had been so engrossed in sorting out some paperwork for Tony that she never noticed the newcomer coming into the kitchen. She barely even registered Thor introducing her to him. ‘This is Rosie, our PA, she’s new here.’

Not until she heard an all too familiar voice responding that sent shivers down her spine and sent her heart racing.

‘Rosie… My sweet Rose?’

There was only one person who had ever called her that.

Slowly she looked up, eyes widening, standing before her was Loki.

‘Oh my sweet Rose, you’ve done Daddy so proud.’ Loki purred gently as he cradled her in his lap.

She felt so safe and secure, curled up against him as he wrapped a blanket around her naked body. Knowing how cold she always got after they’d played together quite so intensely.

Loki rocked her back and fore softly as he ran his fingers through her hair, soothing her. She was trembling a bit after her orgasms, Loki had pushed her almost past her limit, but he knew. He always knew when to stop at the right time.

He was an intense Daddy, and could be really strict at times. But he was fair and ever so kind. He had his goofy moments and was extremely playful too, which she loved. He was never angry with her, always calm and collected. Even when she misbehaved, not that that happened often.

She clung to his shirt so tightly, never wanting to let go. Loki had to carefully remove her hand from his shirt just so he could change them into a different position, getting them both under the blanket so he could have her snuggled up next to him. He knew she would fall asleep soon.

‘Daddy.’ She whispered quietly, sounding so vulnerable.

‘Yes, my little one?’ Loki asked, engulfing her small hand in his large one.

‘Can you sing to me?’

Loki smiled. ‘Of course, my sweetling.’

He began singing to her in Asgardian, but he had told her before it was Icelandic. She had no reason not to believe him, especially since he told her he’d grown up there with his parents.

But he had a beautiful voice, she always loved to hear him sing.

She felt so loved as he she drifted off to sleep to the sound of his voice. She faintly remembered a gentle kiss on her forehead just before she fell asleep.

Thor was confused at their interaction, especially as Rosie said nothing at first. Just stared at Loki in utter disbelief.

‘No…’ She shook her head and took a step backwards. ‘You… You don’t get to call me that anymore.’ She said quietly, her voice trembling as tears came to her eyes.

‘Rosie? What’s wrong, did he hurt you?’ Clint asked upon seeing the reaction.

Rosie grabbed the pile of paperwork off the table beside her and she ran off out of the kitchen, with tears falling down her face.

Clint turned to Loki. ‘You’ve got some explaining to do.’ He snapped at him.

‘I have nothing to explain to you, Hawk.’ Loki snarled.

Natasha and Pepper saw Rosie running out of the kitchen in floods of tears, they ran after her into her room. Natasha managed to grab the door before it closed on them.

‘Rosie? Rosie, what’s wrong?’ They both asked as they rushed in to her.

Rosie threw the papers on her bed and she started pacing back and fore, shaking and crying with her arms wrapped around herself. Pepper grabbed her and pulled her down to sit on the bed.

‘Rosie, please speak to us.’ She pleaded with her cousin as Natasha sat at the other side of her.

‘It… It’s him…’ She sobbed.

‘Who? Loki? Did he scare you? I told him not to be an asshole to anyone.’ Natasha said angrily.

‘He… He’s the one. Who I dated before.’ She blurted out, making Pepper and Natasha go silent in shock.

‘But… how?’ Pepper asked.

‘I met him one night in a club. And we dated for eleven months. I was in love with him, utterly and completely. I thought he was with me too. But then he just vanished and never came back one day. Then a few months later, I saw him on the TV… I didn’t tell anyone it was him, because I thought no one would believe me anyway. And what did it matter? It wouldn’t change anything.’ Rosie blurted out between crying.

‘Oh, Rosie. I wish you had told me.’ Pepper pulled her into a hug and cradled her head against her. ‘It’s ok, shhh, shhh. It’s going to be ok.’

Natasha rubbed her back softly. ‘If we had known, we would have warned you he was coming here. I’m so sorry.’

Rosie shook her head and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. ‘No… It’s my fault, I should have told you. I just… it’s a shock to see him face to face.’

Natasha and Pepper nodded in understanding.

They stayed with her for a little while, then when she told them she was ok and was going to take a shower before bed, they left her to it.

But it ended up being the longest shower ever. She kept thinking about Loki and what they had together before.

Kept thinking of when they first met…

Rosie was super nervous when she walked into the BDSM club. But after months of talking herself into it, she finally had the courage to do it.

She didn’t dare tell any of her friends what she was into or what she was doing, perhaps foolish in a way as no one knew where she was. And she was on her own. But she was too embarrassed to tell anyone. Her friends wouldn’t understand.

She relaxed a tiny bit once she was there, noticing other people on their own as well. Getting a few drinks down her helped with her nerves too.

Some of the people she spoke to briefly were really nice. She met a lovely couple at the bar who asked if it was her first time there. They told her if she needed anything to feel free to ask them, not to be shy. That everyone there was really nice and friendly.

There were various demos on that she watched, there was a lot more to some scenes than met the eye. It really made her realise how on sites such as Fetlife and others, it was easy to get sucked into the wanna-be-Dom’s who likely had no idea what they were doing. Or how much safety came into it all.

‘Excuse me, I don’t mean to bother you but I was wondering if you’d like to join me for a drink?’ A beautiful voice came from beside her when one of the demos on aftercare just finished.

Rosie turned and her breath was taken from her as she gazed up at an incredibly tall and handsome man.

‘I… I… Yeah, I would like that, thank you.’ Rosie stammered out, nodding over enthusiastically.

He grinned, showing off his pearly white teeth as he put his hand out towards her. ‘My name is Loki.’ He introduced.

‘I’m Rosie.’ She smiled up at him and put her hand into his. That’s when she noticed his gorgeous hands, so big and he had such long fingers. She blushed hard when he raised her hand up and he kissed the back of it, making her skin tingle like crazy.

‘Pleasure to meet you, Rosie.’ He said charmingly.

Loki gave her his arm and led her over to a free table near the bar. She was really nervous, and Loki could tell. But he soon had her at ease, just chatting away to her calmly and making her laugh almost straight away. She slowly began to relax in his presence.

‘Is this your first time here?’ He asked after buying them both another drink.

‘Is it that obvious?’ She cringed, making him chuckle.

‘Kind of. You did look a bit like a deer in the headlights. But that’s normal for first timers.’ Loki winked at her.

‘So, I’m guessing that means you’ve been here before?’

‘It does.’ He nodded. ‘Not often, it’s probably my fourth visit. Mainly just trying to meet new people, meet anyone that may potentially be interested in a Daddy Dom.’

Rosie’s eyes widened and she suddenly fell shy again as she looked down at her glass and swallowed hard. Loki raised an eyebrow, instantly realising that she was a little. He suspected she was a sub, but hadn’t been sure about the little aspect or not.

Loki leaned forward over the table towards her a little more. ‘Let me take a quick stab in the dark here… But I am presuming that you are a little?’

Her mouth opened and closed again. Then she just opted for nodding in response instead of trusting her voice to actually work.

Loki smiled softly. ‘Nothing to be shy about, sweetheart. That’s why lots of people come to these clubs, to meet their person.’

‘I… I guess so.’ She agreed.

They continued to talk for over an hour, not much about BDSM which Rosie found quite pleasant. He didn’t seem to want to jump straight in so quickly, which in turn made her trust him more and relax.

At the end of the night, Loki handed over a small card with his number on it. ‘There’s absolutely no pressure at all. But I’ve really enjoyed my night with you, Rosie. I would love to take you out on a date, perhaps out for lunch Saturday? But there’s no pressure, I don’t need an answer right now. Just text or call me to let me know. But if I don’t hear from you, that’s ok too. I totally understand.’

Rosie’s heart was racing. Could he get any more considerate? He wasn’t pressuring her at all, not asking for her number. Not even expecting her to contact him if she didn’t want to go on a date with him. Not even needing an answer straight away, what a gentleman.

Loki walked her outside the club and hailed a taxi for her, he even paid in advance for her, not taking no for an answer.

‘I just want to make sure I know you’ll get home safely. And I can’t help it, it’s the protective Daddy in me.’ He shrugged and chuckled, making her giggle shyly.

‘Thank you, Loki.’ She smiled widely at him as she got into the taxi and he closed the door for her once she was in.

He waved her off and she couldn’t stop smiling the whole way home.

Of course, she did text him the following morning to say she would love nothing more than to go on a date with him on Saturday. If that was still what he wanted, too.

Loki replied within a minute, with a time and a place for their first date.

-

‘How DARE you!’ Pepper roared at Loki and launched for him, slapping him across the face. It barely made him flinch, but he clenched his jaw as he glared at her.

Everyone was surprised at Pepper’s outburst.

‘Woah, what did he do?’ Bruce asked.

‘HE is the one that broke my cousin’s heart. She was head over heels in love with you, asshole. Then you just disappeared on her, left her alone without even an explanation. No note, nothing.’ She snarled at him.

Loki narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Not that it’s any of your business, but I did what was right. To protect her. She was better off without me.’

‘You did NOT do what was right. You have no idea what you’ve put her through this past year, how heartbroken she was. Still is!’ Pepper screeched.

Loki faltered. ‘Still is? Did she not find another, she’s a beautiful, incredible woman. How could she not find ano’

‘You are such a fucking idiot!’ Pepper screeched angrily and so wanted to slap him again, but she knew it was pointless.

The guys around him all put their face into their hands.

‘What?’ Loki asked, looking around.

‘That’s a low blow, man. Not even leaving her a note.’ Said Tony.

‘I… I thought I was doing the right thing.’ Loki said, looking at Thor.

Thor nodded. ‘I did not realise that your Rose was this Rosie… But yes, Loki thought he was doing right by her. He was in love with her, adored her. Never shut up about her. But when he discovered his true heritage on a short visit home, he decided not to go back to her. In fear of hurting her.’ Thor explained.

Pepper ran her hands down her face.

‘Well, you failed on that. You probably hurt her more by not at least saying you were over. You have no idea what she’s been through this last year.’ Pepper shook her head in disgust at Loki.

The team all murmured between them and left the room, leaving Loki with Thor.

For the first time in a long time, Thor saw his real brother back. He saw true emotion on his face again, sorrow and guilt.

‘I… I did not mean to hurt her.’ Loki said, still a bit confused. ‘I loved her, Thor… I do love her. I never stopped thinking about her, never loved another.’ He whispered.

Thor sighed and walked over to him, patting his shoulder. ‘I know, brother. I know.’

Loki thought back to the first time she had called him Daddy. How much it made his heart happy that she trusted and wanted him so much…

Rosie and Loki were snuggling on the sofa together, watching some cartoons that she loved. Loki wasn’t overly fond of them, but it made her happy so he always obliged. He was just happy to have her on his lap, comfortable and relaxed in his arms. Where she belonged.

He was lightly stroking her back underneath her top, making her skin tingle. She was in utter heaven, and Loki couldn’t get enough of just simply touching her. He needed touch in some way, whether he was just holding her hand or had the tips of his fingers on her skin, he needed and craved the intimacy with her.

Loki’s fingers trailed a bit too far to her side and up a little, making her squirm and giggle.

‘Daddy, that tickles!’ She laughed and tried to grab his hand to stop him.

But he had already stopped, freezing at what she said. That was the first time she had called him that, even in little space.

The biggest smile spread across his face and he buried his face into her hair and squeezed her tightly to him.

‘Sorry, my sweet little one. I forgot how ticklish you are.’ He purred.

[singtotheskiies]

dried blood on smooth skin // five hargreeves x reader

summary: five hargreeves really needs patching up—in more ways than one.

words: 1655

warnings: brief language, descriptions of blood, otherwise just that sweet touch-starved fluff we all crave

a/n: i’m a klaus kinda girl, but this is me working through why i find five so goddamn attractive

✖️✖️✖️

Normally, when Five Hargreeves blinks into your room, it’s because he wants to escape from the stifling presence of his father or because you’ve begged for his help with your math homework (the man has no right being so smart). He always manages to sneak out on your birthday and bring you a donut from Griddy’s and something you value even more—his companionship, even if only for a few minutes. Sometimes, you tell him he should be more careful—his father has eyes all over the house; he must suspect that something’s going on. Five always dismisses your protests, telling you not to worry about it—he’s got it under control.

He comes to you because you’re a constant for him, a sense of normalcy. Whenever he needs an escape from the constant hierarchy and trauma of his house (which is often), he can come to you and relish in your laughter and friendship and caring aura. Of course, he’s never said all of this to you outright, but you understand anyway. You know Five well enough to know that underneath all his bluster and know-it-all attitude, he appreciates you—the only person he can really call his friend.

Today is different, though. When the blue flash of light materializes in your bedroom, you jump, dropping your book to the ground. “Christ, Five, didn’t we talk about—“ You trail off as you see the state he’s in. His clothes are torn and disheveled, something he would normally never allow. The parts of his face not covered in blood are stark white, matching his knuckles as they clench up at his sides. God, there’s blood everywhere. Is it his? There’s so much—there’s no way his body could produce that much, right?—and it’s thick and clotted onto his normally pristine skin and suit, concentrated especially on a spot on his right side. You notice he’s barely moved in the several seconds you’ve been gaping at him, merely swaying side to side weakly.

“What the fuck happened?” you begin, but are cut off by his knees buckling. You catch him just in time, guiding him to your desk chair before he can ruin your carpet.

“Mission—gone wr-wrong,” he pants, barely able to get the words out.

“Why didn’t you stay with your siblings? They know how to handle this st—“

“I don’t want their help.” He cuts you off, managing to instill an incredible amount of venom in his words as they stutter past his gritted teeth. “Their fault.”

“Okay, well, why didn’t you jump to a hospital, or your mom, or someone who could actually help!? Jesus, Five, you could—“

“I—I did come to someone who can help. It would be really—nice—if you started,” he breathes, brow drawn tight in pain. Sweat and dried blood mix together in the furrows of his dusky skin, and something about that sight kicks you into action.

“Okay, I need to get this jacket off you. Can you lift your arms?” He grunts in what you take to be an affirmative response, and you manage to wrestle the piece of clothing off him without jarring him too much. You’re left with the sight of blood pouring out of him, staining the weave of his bright white dress shirt, and you tighten your jaw as realization sets in. “Uh, Five? I need to—um—take your shirt off,” you almost whisper, trying to ignore the rising flush in your cheeks. He barely summons a weak nod, and you take that as your go-ahead.

Hands shaking, you start at his neck, working your way down. With each button unfastened, more and more tanned, smooth skin becomes visible. After what seems like an eternity, you reach the last button, sliding your hands back up to his shoulders to ease his sleeves off. You take in the expanse of freckled, smooth skin now exposed to the air. You wonder how he hasn’t got more scars on missions—every inch and plane of skin you can see is soft-looking and somehow catches the light as he breathes in and out laboriously. But then your eyes land on the bullet wound spilling blood onto his side and let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. “Shit,” you curse. “I’ll be right back.”

You run into your bathroom, grabbing the first-aid kit you have for emergencies. Your breath is coming quickly—you know that every second is crucial to Five’s wellbeing. Coming back into the room, you grab gauze and disinfectant. “This is gonna sting,” you warn, and he merely rests his head back onto your desk, clenching his jaw.

There’s far too much blood to wipe off completely, so you focus on cleaning the area around the wound quickly. You can’t see the bullet, and a quick question to Five confirms that it’s not lodged inside—just scraped up against some things and went on its way. You grab a few gauze pads, placing them securely against his torso with medical tape. The softness of his skin makes your heart soar and drop simultaneously, but you push the thought out of your head. You need to get him feeling better.

Once the gauze is on, you focus on cleaning up the rest of his bloodied torso. After a few minutes, Five feels the strength to sit up and take ginger sips of the water bottle you’ve offered him. The water seems to do him some good, and you sit back from cleaning his skin for a moment, relieved at the sight of some light returning to his eyes.

“Better?” you ask, sliding his shirt back on gently. He merely nods in response, lips pursed in a half-smile. His dimple is covered in sticky dried blood, and that sets you on your next mission.

“I’m gonna clean up your face, okay? You don’t want anything getting in your eyes or mouth,” you say. Five tries to protest, but you cut him off. “If you came to me for help, then you’re going to sit there and get it,” you say sternly.

“Fine,” he concedes. “Guess I brought it upon myself.” You shoot him a look and get busy.

There’s quite a bit of blood at his hairline, and you clean up the series of cuts there. His normally perfect, shiny hair is sweaty and slightly matted in spots. Before you can stop yourself, you bring a cool hand to his forehead and sweep some of the dark strands off his forehead. He makes a soft noise in response, green eyes fluttering halfway closed in relief. Your heart clenches at the sound. You take in the weary and touch-starved boy before you, all dusky skin and stirring limbs. Bending closer, you press a feather-soft, lingering kiss to his hairline before you can think better of it. His eyes shoot back open and he regards you with a look so intense you can barely decipher what’s going on.

“Okay?” you ask in a whisper.

“Please—“ he mumbles hoarsely. “Don’t—don’t stop.” Your brows draw together in both pity and overwhelming affection, and you begin to softly clean up another cut on his cheek. After the blood is soaked up by the disinfectant, you place your lips on the small wound. You give the same treatment to a spot on his chin, then to a bruise under his eye, and then to his dimple—the dimple that’s tugged at your heart every single time he’s smiled at you in the past. As your lips leave the freckled spot, you meet his eyes again.

His lids are hooded, tired. They barely close when he blinks, his eyelashes dipping down to brush the freckled apples of his cheeks. His eyes, though, are less drowsy and more intense. They regard you with something akin to both sorrow and want. You blush under their gaze, wanting to look away from their intensity but finding yourself unable to. Your hand reaches up, your middle three fingers tracing an impossibly soft line from the shell of his ear to the corner of his lips. Your fingertips pause, hovering just over where the tip of his mouth is curving into the smallest of smiles. Five’s hand comes slowly up to meet yours, his fingers enveloping yours splayed over his cheek. He breathes in, once, and the look in his eyes breathes with him. Then, the space between you is filled and your mind is narrowed down to two things: the overlapping of your fingers and lips.

He’s soft, and so so warm—almost feverish, but it just adds to the potency of every tiny movement. His mouth is both quiet and everywhere, filling up the backs of your closed eyes. You change the angle slightly, nosing his cheek as you reconnect your mouths with gentle hunger. He smiles softly, and you pull away a fraction to kiss at his dimple as it imprints itself on his cheek. His hands come up on either side of your head, softly combing through your hair before stilling at your jaw. He rests his forehead against yours, and you can feel his eyelashes brush against your cheeks as he kisses the bridge of your nose. His lips are lingering and filled with so much love it makes you want to cry.

“Thanks for patching me up,” he whispers, voice husky due to the quiet volume.

“If that’s what’s waiting for me every time you get hurt, I’d almost tell you to get in trouble more often,” you manage.

“We’ll see about that,” he says, and you straighten his unbuttoned collar before going in again. He moans this time, soft and low, and you smirk at his exhalation.

“That good, huh?” you quip. He grimaces, indicating where you’ve accidentally pressed on the bloody gauze. Giggling an apology, you reposition yourself so that your hands are around his strong, wiry arms.

“Guess I’ll have to take another look at that,” you say.

“If you must.”

And his eyes regain their roguish light.

[morewoe]

One  thing  she  had  always  prided  herself  on  was  her  cool  head,  her  ability  to  bypass  her  own  feelings  for  the  benefit  of  whatever  situation  she  was  in.  She  was  raised  to  be  perfect,  and  that  had  been  a  point  of  pride,  taken  duty  and  made  it  hobby,  learning  the  steps  to  the  dances,  even  if  they  were  clumsy.  Yet  now  she  was  a  stumbling  fool,  so  disarmed  by  the  very  sight  of  him  stringing  two  sentences  together  felt  like  a  trial  passed  down  from  the  gods  themselves.  And  now,  here  he  comes,  someone  she  had  known  for  years,  toppling  those  well-made  defences  like  they  were  nothing.  If  Alaric  moved  through  opponents  the  same  way  in  the  joust,  he  would  have  nothing  to  fear  at  all. Except  thought  of  duty  reminds  her  of  home.  Of  why  she  was  sent  south  the  begin  with,  and  why  she  was  allowed  to  rejoin  again  in  Highgarden.  Not  to  flutter  eyelashes  at  Alaric,  not  to  linger  by  the  godswood  or  hide  herself  in  the  library.  To  forge  alliances,  to  further  the  Karstark  name,  one  bestowed  upon  her  instead  of  born  to  her.  A  gift,  rather  than  a  right.  She  cared  little  for  the  comforts  of  the  name,  but  the  family  that  came  with  was  precious,  and  the  idea  of  letting  them  down  for  her  own  benefit  felt  wrong.  Guilty.  And  with  the  political  landscape  changing,  the  divide  between  north  and  south  seeming  more  stark  than  ever,  how  could  she  place  her  own  happiness  above  something  that  could  protect  her  family?

"I  do  believe  your  opponent  will  still  see  you  coming,  even  if  it  was  silent."  She  bit  back  a  smile,  teeth  sinking  into  lip.  He  didn't  look  ridiculous,  but  he  looked...  Different.  So  much  had  changed  in  three  months,  and  yet  so  much  felt  the  same.  Back  in  southern  court,  and  back  in  the  heart  of  danger,  except  this  time  he  rode  willingly  into  it  and  she  wanted  to  shake  him  free  from  the  madness  that  must  have  taken  over  her  friend,  but  she  could't  find  it  in  herself  to  ruin  this  for  him.  "Especially  now.  You  certainly  have  filled  out  that  armour,  haven't  you?  What  were  you  doing  for  those  three  months,  fighting  bears  rather  than  hunting  them?"  She  passes  it  off  with  a  laugh,  though  it  touches  on  something  deeper.  As  much  as  she  had  appreciated  the  reprieve  of  home,  she  had  spent  nights  dreaming  of  Bear  Island,  of  days  before  scales  and  fire  haunted  nightmares,  a  place  that  felt  untouched  by  the  tension  of  reality.  And  him.  The  kinder  dreams  were  filled  with  him,  and  left  her  feeling  better  rested  than  she  had  any  right  to  be.  Even  now,  when  there  was  so  much  to  worry  about,  she  couldn't  help  but  be  calmed  by  his  presence.  Did  he  know?  Did  he  know  exactly  how  precious  he  was  to  her,  the  lengths  she  would  go  to  to  keep  him  in  her  life?  Had  she  ever  said?

"Good.  It  would  be  nice,  for  a  northern  lord  to  win  these  festivities.  To  show  this  southern  court  what  we  are  made  of."  As  worried  as  she  was,  she  couldn't  deny  that  there  was  a  part  of  her  that  was  incredibly  proud,  already  certain  that  whatever  may  come  he  would  meet  it  with  the  same  honour  she  had  come  to  expect  of  him.  "Alaric  Mormont,  I  know  you  are  joking  but  I  swear  on  the  old  gods  and  the  new  that  if  you  so  much  as  attempt  to  joust  without  armour  I  will  storm  down  there  and  kill  you  myself!"  Her  hand  met  the  cool  metal  of  his  armour,  no  yield  as  she  squeezed.  Touch,  but  not  really.  Safe,  but  dangerous.  In  the  same  was  the  joust  was  war,  but  not  really.  Enough  distance  that  she  could  give  herself  plausible  deniability,  to  be  able  to  deny  what  she  knew  to  be  true.  "You  are  going  to  do  wonderfully.  I  just  know  it.  You're  going  to  blow  them  all  away."

war has been diminished into a far less complicated matter in whispers . grandness in violence , victory , and dominance is all that comes to mind at the mere mention of it . the finer , smaller details are left to fall off the scarlet - smeared platter where it is served upon the nobles gathered around the famed painted table . but to alaric mormont , who has made a home in details often looked over , wars will and can never be simple . it demands more than men are able to provide , takes from them everything they do not think they even possess . under the dark clouds of battle , everyone and no one is ready , worthy , or valiant . but always , always is everyone regretful . they say life flashes before a dying man's eyes , no one can really be sure . a dying man is robbed of breaths and farewells . he is simply a dead man , a widow's tale to provide comfort and boost morale . one thing is certain , if such tales proved true , all he will see before his eyes is myranda karstark and her incomparable beauty , the beauty of the north coming only after . steel is cold even against his icy skin , even with linen spread between . he flinches and winced , does not find it in himself to hide the discomfort . shame the last of his worries as he stands in her presence . his heart begins to race as one ware after another is mounted on his body , each one colder and tougher than the one before . safety feels confiding , stifling even , he never got used to it . but he figured he needed to start somewhere if their cause gets heard and acted upon . precautions are to be taken , as if they matter when men mount their horses and charge towards each other uncertain where they may strike . for naught or entertainment , peril is peril . death wears a different face , and in this tourney , it shall wear an armor — and it may as well be his . ❝ i take your word for it , though i feel like a fool no less , how am i supposed to move in it ? ❞ the wilderness of bear island remained the only witness of the rage and violence that seemed to thrive in the flesh of men , his included . the armor is a mere attempt to make nobles swallow the despicable any of them are capable of doing .

❝ how do i breathe in it ? ❞ he brings forth a jest , to lighten the mood that was bearing heavy on the severity of the outcomes . it is all games and mirth , until someone's chest bursts into a soup of flesh and blood . amusement swimming in his eyes as he looks down on the fitted armor , making some kind of hushed sound and clink or creak when he moved . ❝ it makes sounds . no wonder these southerners take too long to hunt bears and boars , they scare them away with the noise . ❞ light laugh escapes the lord mormont as he turned to his dearest . swiftly joy was taken from him , and it is replaced with an awful turn in his stomach . comfort was not something he gave nor received easily , not because of ego or pride . rather it touches something within him that brings about a river of hurt not even time can swim on , making him inefficient . ❝ i ... i will be careful , i promise . my goal will be to stay seated and to come out of it unharmed so we may hide away in the library for the rest of the festivities . ❞ to say it out loud , beyond this tent would be odd . no man going into a fight can ever assure they hold the god's favor or luck in their pocket . but alaric wanted to , demand it from the gods and steal luck if only to give myranda all that she wanted . ❝ is it meant to be hot ? i am sweating like i've never sweat before under here . do you reckon they'd allow me not to wear it ? ❞

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Doctor Who, but Chronologically 13

After the absolute belter that was Thin Ice, we now jump a mere two years to 1816 - and the night Frankenstein was written. It’s the Haunting of Villa Diodati, and once again, what a fucking fantastic episode! Although it’s slightly less surprising this time, because we’re shedding Capaldi to have Whittaker back, along with Yaz, Ryan and Graham, and that was a pretty solid team last time, too.

Also this is a story that has a LOT of links to episodes we’ve already seen AND sets up some plot stuff that’s really going to upset the list in a bit. In this episode, we have mention once again of a “Jack” - presumably the Captain Jack Harkness who will be getting around to Me in some way, but apparently he’s given these companions a warning: “Don’t give the lone cyberman what it wants. Or there will be wars, and billions will die.”

This is interesting because last time we saw a lone cyberman it was a haunted suit of armour that ate heads and/or skulls and wanted to eat Amy in that episode where she had a forgettable plastic Roman boyfriend. Apparently they can kill billions now! Creepy. 

Also they aren’t particularly haunted anymore. The Doctor describes how they replace human bodies with machinery and then turn off people’s emotions because otherwise they go insane, so these are like... extremely horrific Black Mirror anti-technology monsters. But! Not in this episode! In this episode, we get one single cyberman. And, uh, he wants to be a cyberman and is really very human in his shitty jackassery, and also therefore sits in the middle of the perfect monster Venn diagram: horrifying sense of menace and threat, superbly well-acted, and breathtakingly good aesthetic design. 

(A Not-So-Secret: mama is a sucker for a good robot. Shout out to the beautiful clockwork design of the Girl In The Fireplace robots btw just absolutely fucking fantastic)

Anyway here’s another fun bit:

“I will not lose anyone else to that!” the Doctor says, wild, as she tells the humans to stay the fuck away from the cyberman. That seems poignant. I hope she doesn’t lose, say, a companion. That would be upsetting.

Here’s another:

Eventually it all comes down to this. If Percy Bysshe Shelley - him what married Mary Shelley - dies, then billions are saved in the future. But do you get to kill one person? The philosophy of utilitarianism! Ryan suggests maybe it’s worth it. This inspires the Doctor to go on a two-part rant: firstly, she suggests that Percy Bysshe Shelley is too good a poet and the whole future will change if he dies. I feel this is going overboard a bit tbh. I have read some poems of Percy Bysshe Shelley and sure, Ozymandias has a banger of a penultimate stanza, and sometimes he did some very fun things with metaphors and alliteration, but he wasn’t that great and honestly I suspect most people by Ryan’s time would struggle to cite anything by him beyond “And on the pedestal these words appear: My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings. Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. Nothing beside remains.”

Secondly, though. Secondly.

“Sometimes this team structure isn’t so flat,” the Doctor says; which we remember, of course, from the Witchfinders. It was wonderful to see then, after the arrogance of Matt Smith. “Sometimes, it’s mountainous, and I’m up on the summit, in the stratosphere, alone. Making the decisions. Should I do it? Should I kill the poet? Save the future?”

And we remember this, too: David Tennant, realising he had to kill Pompeii or let the future die; except that time, he had Donna at his side. And she pushed him aside, and shared the burden with him.

These companions don’t do that. They look away, unable to choose. It’s an incredibly poignant moment in this watch order, and it makes you really feel the stark difference between some of these companions; and not in the fun ‘Donna tells him she won’t shut up while Amy meekly obeys’ way, but in a heart wrenching ‘this actually matters and the Doctor needs that support’ way.

Anyway, to round off, Graham gets haunted by a pair of servants who give him a pork pie, something which I am delighted to announce is never resolved. Also, “ghost story but the resolution is that the ghosts are cybermen and also Percy Bysshe Shelley” is such a good fucking story. Fantastic. Loved it.

So, let’s see what this has done to the list!

“She” (an unknown person) is returning (perhaps River returned as Missy. Maybe Me?)

There is something on Donna’s back

An entire planet, Pyrovilia, just… disappeared, somehow. (Maybe because the TARDIS is exploding??? Saturnine was also lost, and that WAS because of the TARDIS exploding. The lion man’s planet was also lost but he was a bit of a knob about it if I’m honest.)

Amy is maybe dead (she’s not)

The Doctor has been cubed (he’s out, but how?)

River is possibly blown up  (unless she’s Missy)

The TARDIS has blown up  (It’s fine now)

The universe appears to have ended  (the universe is back again)

The Doctor has employed(?) Nardole (And Nardole was “reassembled???”)

There’s a vault in the TARDIS and it contains Missy but we don’t know why (sometimes she knocks for the bants)

What has happened to all these companions and where are the new ones coming from?

There’s an immortal Viking girl now. Her name is Me and she’s now looking after the people the Doctor abandons

Who/what is the Half-Faced Man that the Doctor talked about?

Why, when the Doctor saw the ship’s computer set to the Promised Land, did he say “Oh not again”?

What’s With The Silence?

Why was Rory entirely unconcerned by the entire world suddenly going silent when that is Not Normal and should have been, at the very least, extremely disconcerting?

What did the Doctor do to Queen Lizzie One?

Who is Captain Jack Harkness? (NEW INFO: is he the one who gave the companions a warning about the lone cyberman?)

Why is Amy seeing a one-eyed woman in a vanishing window?

What’s with the Doctor’s future involving getting shot by an astronaut?

Is Amy pregnant and why is it inconclusive?

Who is Sarah-Jane Smith?

How is the Doctor Bill’s teacher and why/where does he have an office?

What is going on with the Cyber War and the Cyberium???

Who did the Doctor lose to Cyber Conversion?

Weird how this list just keeps getting longer