#and don't get me wrong they were all awful people but i at least felt a LITTLE bad for the rest of them in the moment

[sureuncertainty]

one more episode to go of fall of the house of usher but i can't watch it until monday aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

[akirathedramaqueen]

Some thoughts on the Western Energy trainwreck

Soo, I've come across that post, and... it made me thinking.

Stolas spent there the whole time, not knowing Blitzø *did*, in fact, send help. He assumed he was all alone, although still had some resemblance of hope, a fragile straw he hang on to piss off Striker, allowing to tear up only when one didn't look at him.

And... hell, I used to see many comments about how Blitzø let him down there... But did he?

Oh course, some think he did, and he surely thinks he did, too. But, although the whole sequence with him and Loona trying to get that S.H.O.T. was a fucking circus and looked like a joke compared to suffers Stolas had to endure and barely survive...

To be honest, these scenes being put together on surface do, in fact, make it think that the whole Stolas being on the verge of death ordeal is a joke to Blitzø and he would rather spend time running around with big needles and stuff.

If to get back to the phone convo between them at the beginning of the episode, Blitzø mentions that it took him 5 years to book that appointment, and it means a lot for him to not miss it. Missing out on that shot meant to put Loona in potential danger, his daughter, and, although we don't know what kind of shots they were talking about, we know for sure what does missing out on a vaccine schedule could mean in the real world - we tend to forget how dangerous polio, for instance, is, as most of us have access to the vaccine and don't get to experience it not even themselves, but in close vicinity as well. For us, vaccines might seem to be some kind of stupid routine, something we got comfortable with in a privileged world, something which surely could be skipped for a day, right? But in Blitzø's one they are luxury.

Despite all of that, I also want to put your attention to the fact that he wasn't going to ignore it. He is speeding up, and I think (although it's not expressed explicitly, but not everything should be, right?), that he already made up his mind that Stolas is a priority.

You are not thinking it's about shots, right? He wasn't that reckless in driving before *that* call.

And! He wasn't even the initiator of Millie and Moxxie going instead of him. *M&M's* were.

And Blitzø trusts them, because why not? They are his employees, they are skilled and capable, and they are his friends as well, they know that shit is important to him (although he isn't willing to admit it himself).

We see also, how Stolas was admitted to the hospital immediately, which already gives a hint on how different their stance in the world is. I wonder sometimes how it would've turned out if Stolas proposed to Blitzø to use the royal influence to get another appointment shortly after Blitzø saves him, but we know he didn't get much time to even think about that. He wasn't even able to finish the sentence before Striker took his phone off him.

To be honest, I don't think the outcome itself would have been much different. I don't think Blitzø would've done a better job at saving Stolas, but, maybe, only maybe, he would've felt better because he was, at least, there for him.

Because you know that shit is going to haunt him till the day he dies. Because it only reassured him that he isn't capable of sticking around for his people.

Because, you know... happened once already.

No wonder he left Stolas's message on "read". Knowing all things before and after, it's not a surprise that he, tending to take all of responsibility for all the wrongs on himself more than he should to, couldn't face the consequence of what he thinks he failed in. He, speaking figuratively, left Fizz on "read" for 15 years, and he kinda sorted it out only because he couldn't run anymore and had to face the trauma as circumstances didn't give him a chance to chicken out.

I wonder what he was trying to tell Stolas. But I don't think we will ever get to learn that.

Aw, crap, I am done here, I am going to go and cry for a little bit. Thanks for coming to my ted talk, see ya in like 5 minutes to experience some Full Moon trauma again, because I can't get over these two. XD

[madwomansapologist]

Hello!!! I was wondering if you could write headcannons of the BG3 companions and a dragon bloodline sorcerer tav? Especially their reactions to their more dragon like tendencies like hoarding things or their wings when they level up (draconic sorcerers get wings at lvl 14 table top and 11 in bg3 ) that would be great ❤️

bg3 companions with a draconic sorcerer!tav

Navigation | More Weirdos | AO3

synopsis: How would they react to their leader as a draconic sorcerer?

warnings: austim be danmed my girl can study about dragons (lae'zel).

note: that made me want to play as a draconic in the future. thanks for your request, i hope you like it!

Lae'zel

You got her attention immediately. All other races are as alien to a githyanki as themselfs are for those across Faêrun, but she knew a lot about draconics still. A interest of hers that she wasn't able of shutting down, don't matter how efficient and practical she achieved to be.

She always had a soft spot for dragons. A gith can't waste its time dreaming, but who can control it? She wanted so bad to be a dragon rider. When she learned there were races of people who descended from dragons, it was only natural she would want to learn about them.

Upon meeting you, part of her brain was just trying to analize. To learn from what type of dragon you descended. Her interest on you was purely academic.

She wondered if you had noticed how possessive you are. Lae'zel knows you're one of the most selfless people she ever met, the amount of times you lose something so someone could be safe... and still, you are so possessive.

You would kill Cazador with your bare hands and bring Astarion his head, but would never let him use one of your necklaces. Once she heard you hissing because he touched your things.

Exploring Baldur's Gate, everyone got stronger. When your wings evolved, Lae'zel seemed allured by them. So intricate and strong. Beautiful. A sign of your effort and talent. You deserved them.

"Just another proof of your strenght, zhak vo'n'ash duj. Our enemies will tremble before you. I already do."

Shadowheart

Something about you felt... familiar. Like she already knew you. Maybe she did. Or perhaps it was someone familiar. Maybe it was just the highs from being saved from a nautiloid. Still, Shadowheart couldn't help but to take a liking to you.

She never had a draconid friend, not that she remember at least, so it took her a bit to get used to the differences. It's impossible not to bring attention upon your group with your height and wide body. The teeth were certainly something she was highly aware.

Shadowheart thought it was enduring how you would always ended with the party's gold on your pockets. You say you will deal with the finances, and you really do that and do it well, but she knows mostly it's because you need to have it near you.

When your wings were strong enough, she would always find an excuse to hug you. It was so warm to feel your wings around her body. Shadowheart feels so save between your arms. So at peace.

"Before you I thought I knew what true embrace felt like. I was wrong. Thank you, my sweetest lover. For opening my eyes."

Astarion

Your size was intimidating. You could be an awful obstacle for his safety, but gladly you were kinder than Astarion could expect. You were way more than Astarion could ever expect.

After a while, it was interesting to learn more about you. So wide, and still so delicate. So scary, and yet so good. So moral, and yet so capable of violence.

For a draconic, it was a bit cliche that your go-to spells were fire ones. And he made sure to tell you that.

Once Astarion saw your wings, for some reason Astarion felt... proud. It just felt right for you to be rewarded after everything you did to them. To him. And it also made you look even more alluring.

"Another fireball, darling? Really? In this tiny room? Alright. Whatever feels right to you."

Gale

It was incrible to have another magic bender in the party! There are a few differences in styles and in the path you both want to go down, but at the end you both share the same goal.

Either as a student or as a natural vessel, the weave conects you both. It feels lovely to have someone who can see how the entire world moves because of it. To have someone to go for when doubts about new spells pop up, or that understands that he can't spend a long time in the battle field. Someone that just understands.

Gale was so curious about the limits of your body. Merely academic curiosity! He meet a few draconics before, but never he spend such a long time beside one.

It was mesmerizing to see you sleep in a nest. Not really one, but basically a nest. Everything looks so comfortable. So you. The best blankets, your favorite jewels, some gold.

Gale Dekarios is a student before all. And you quickly became his favorite subject.

"Don't they make you trip, my love? Ah, I see, your body was made for those, dare I say, beautiful pair of wings. If you ever feel the need to rest while you get used to them, just say the word."

Wyll

You weren't the first draconic Wyll befriended. Your race may be not so common in some parts of Faêrun, but he is not one to be surprised by your needs and habilities. Wyll is always ready to help you, don't matter what.

You need more space at camp, every armor needs to be wide enough to fit your wings, swords can't be tiny so your handle turns weak. Wyll is just waiting for you to need him so he may act.

The hoarding turned into a problem so quickly. Every damn thing "could be necessary". Forks? Rotten watermelons? Half-eaten apples??? And don't you try to say those are culture differences. Those are problems.

Once someone aimed at your wings during a fight. You barely were able to see the energy rays before their body burned to ashes.

"The Blade stands at your side, dear one. My duty is with your safety."

Karlach

Our girl on fire saw more dangerous things than a dragon's bloodline. Still, it was good to see a good fighter. She has the muscles, and you the brains. A perfect duo, one could say.

She thought was sweet your tendencies. How you wrap your tail around your companions that are being threatened. Or how the glow of jewels can make you break your neck just for a glance.

Karlach loves the fact you are also build bigher, just like her. It's good to not have to look down at someone, or to not break her back in a attempt to be at the same high as you.

She got so scared when your wings evolved. She didn't knew it was something that could happen to draconics that turned really strong. For a whole minute, she thought you went through some sort of body horror kinda of shit. She knows a lot about it, so it was really good to hear your explanation.

"Fucking gods, soldier! You almost lost me there. Thought my heart would fucking explode."

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

GENERAL TAGLIST: @lovelyy-moonlight

BALDUR’S GATE 3 TAGLIST: @citrusbunnies

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[ephemeral--dreams]

Making you cry during a fight (2) - Scaramouche, Yae, Kaeya

Okay guys here you go never ask me for anything ever again /j

(part 1)

☆ ☾ ☆ ──────────────────

Scaramouche

There's a sort of deep, instinctive fear that takes root inside the place where a heart would be, as he watches tears fall after a few too-harsh words. 

He's hurt you. He's been careless, he's been too difficult, too much - and it's going to drive you away. You're going to abandon him because of this incident, surely. Why would you stay with someone who makes you cry? 

It's… it's not a feeling he's dealt with for many years. The fear of being left. He has not allowed anyone to get close enough to him to have any concern over whether they're around or not. Scaramouche had learned his lesson about getting attached and having emotion, after all. He had spat out whatever  bitter words he pleased and felt nothing when he upset anyone he spoke to.

But those days are past, and while that's a good thing in many ways, right now it feels anything but. 

"I-"

"Sorry. I shouldn't be crying," the way you apologize as if you're the one in the wrong stabs right through him. You're the one crying, yet he is being wounded just as much. It's an awful thing, caring. "Just. Just give me a moment…"

Scaramouche hesitates. He's paralyzed, caught up in the idea that anything he does or says may make things worse. But what wins out is the idea of fixing it, fixing things before you give up on him—

"Stop it. You shouldn't be the one saying sorry here. I shouldn't have said that to you, alright? You should know better than to take everything I say so seriously, honestly, I-" he sighs, irritated with himself more than you, before pulling you into his embrace. You don't pull away. Good. Maybe he hasn't entirely fucked things up. "...I didn't mean it. Sorry."

Yae

Yae Miko is not the sort of person who yells during a fight. Or at any time, really. So that hadn't been at all what had happened during your little conflict. 

Rather, her words were pointed to hit where it hurt, an attempt to shut down whatever silly human nonsense you thought was worth causing a riot over. Problems came and went, and most weren't nearly as important as they may seem in the moment. Living many years had led her to this conclusion. She was a busy woman who had little interest in wasting her time arguing. 

...Calculating and perhaps dismissive she may be, but she isn't cold. Yae still very much has a heart, and it skips a beat when she realizes you're nowhere to be found at the usual time she would meet with you after finishing her shrine duties. Surely you weren't that upset over it all, right? 

No, you couldn't be still lingering on the issue hours later… 

Well, you could. Others were far more sensitive to these things, a fact she often forgot. Yae should know better. Isn't she used to highly emotional people, after all? At least your tantrums weren't going to practically destroy the nation…

She finds you at the foot of the mountain, sitting and idly staring into the distance. The tear tracks on your face are all too telling. 

Yae is not above realizing when she has done something wrong. Though she's also not one to openly apologize. She doesn't do much of anything openly. 

"You don't listen to me," you tell her. 

"Well, I'll try to listen more, then. Is that satisfactory?" She offers a hand to you. You wait a moment before taking it, allowing her to pull you up. "Just remember to consider my side of things as well. We can work on it… But let's not linger on this too long. Time is fleeting for mortals like you, hm?"

Kaeya

Kaeya is excellent at one thing - avoidance. In fact, he's been successfully avoiding you ever since your fight a couple of days ago. It's easier to simply wait until you've both cooled off. 

That's what he tells himself. It's certainly not  that the fight made him feel anxious. He's not running away from his problems, of course not.

(He's lying to himself. One wrong word and you'll leave. He knows that. It's bad enough that you had an argument, archons forbid he confronts you and it's the last straw.)

So Kaeya carefully stays out of your way, doesn't speak to you, doesn't let you catch sight of him. He'll have to deal with things eventually, he knows, but… Until then, he's content to keep things this way. Four days in you finally seek him out yourself, looking exhausted and absolutely miserable. 

"Can we- can we stop fighting? You're right, I'm wrong, all that-" He can only watch as you start breaking down in front of him, a cold, sinking feeling of guilt settling in. "...Just stop ignoring me, please?"

His life has been filled with bad decisions - it seems that he's made yet another, by avoiding you so long. Now Kaeya is faced with your tears as you practically beg for his attention. It's quite the opposite of what he intended. He reaches a careful hand to brush them away. "Shh, shh. No more, alright?"

You sniffle, looking up at him. "You're not mad at me?"

"Of course not, sweetheart. I never was. We can talk about it later, okay? Let me make you feel better."

[captain-mj]

God I need a fic where Simon makes one of those offhand trauma comments before Johnny and gaz got used to them and they are just horrified

I was hoping I would get this ask! Obvious CW for talks of trauma, Ghost is nonchalant but others are horrified

Ghost sat down at one of the tables next to Soap and Gaz. He wasn't interested in eating at the moment, but if he sat in his room for another minute, he was pretty sure the walls would start talking to him. So he was in here instead.

Soap and Gaz waved at him and continued to talk. They usually did this and Ghost could just jump in whenever he felt like it. So far, he didn't find himself in a talkative mood so he just listened.

The current topic was their plans for the upcoming weekend. It wasn't technically a weekend, just three days they all had off due to two missions being scheduled a little further apart than expected. They planned to go down to the tracks for some reason to watch dogs race. Neither gambled to Ghost's knowledge and just watching them race seemed a little boring for such a convenient weekend time, but if that's what they wanted to do he supposed.

"You wanna join us Lt?" Soap smiled. "Maybe you can put some money down?"

"Last time someone around me gambled, I was gangraped. No thanks." Ghost flicked his eyes elsewhere to scan the room. He heard the clattering of silverware and turned towards them again. "Yes?"

Gaz looked... angry? "Lieutenant. It's really not right to joke about rape like that. Rape jokes are for victims and-"

"Who said I was joking?" Ghost stared at him. "And I believe if victims can joke about it, that means I'm allowed to."

Soap covered his mouth. "Oh, Simon I'm so sorry that's so terrible. I'm happy you were able to talk to us about it but..." He kept talking but Ghost just tuned him out.

"Ugh." Ghost eventually broke his silence to interrupt Soap and then leave. "Don't be such babies about it."

Gaz and Soap looked at each other and then tried to follow behind Ghost.

"Hold up. You can't just joke about that and then leave!"

"Just did. It wasn't hard."

Gaz quickly tapped Ghost's arm. "Sorry for assuming you were being insensitive."

Ghost shrugged, not really caring. "I'm a big guy. At least you guys believe me. Most people don't."

He wasn't sure what he said wrong but that seemed to make them more upset. “I thought you guys would appreciate that? Jesus.”

Soap looked so upset on Ghost’s behalf. “But that’s awful! You deserve support!”

Ghost stared at him, thinking about how he sometimes had panic attacks and could barely handle women touching him anymore. He had dealt with people hugging him, touching his back, trying so hard bring him back from that dark place. “Nah. Im good. Get fucked.”

[mmhcs]

Miguel O'Hara x Tall!Reader

A/N: (I haven't seen many fics covering this topic so I thought that I'd throw my hat in the ring today). This is dedicated to all the tall girls out there! Y'all are beautiful and amazing!

Warnings: Slightly suggestive, but mostly SFW focus on legs, reader is female(if you'd like to see a gender-neutral version, please let me know!), reader is described as having a curvier lower body (only at one point, though), Miguel is absolutely head-over-heels for reader (pun-intended!)

Okay, y'all. Look at this man. He is 6'9". Big. Very big. Often times, he's the biggest person in the room. Tall and intimidating. And while he likes that (he is the big, scary boss. Hear him roar!), there are times in which he wishes that there was somebody who could relate to him. Like, do you know how hard it is to find shoes at 6'9"?

Now, don't get him wrong, Miguel loves women of all shapes and sizes. Short, tall, average height, skinny, chubby - he doesn't care. But when he saw you? It was like he had a spiritual awakening. Seeing you walk down the hallways of the Spider Society, suit hugging your curves...It did something to him.

Especially when he saw the mold of your legs. For the first time in a long time, Miguel felt himself getting a little nervous. Never had he seen another Spider dominate the room like you did. During your first few days, people used to stare whenever you entered the room - not out of fear as they did with him - but out of awe. You were gorgeous but your height - it just took you over the top.

From your first day forward, all Miguel would hear about is you.

"Did you see the new Spider?" "Yeah, she's really tall! What do you think she does in her professional life? Model?" "Oh my gosh, look at her! She looks good in that suit!"

Whenever you and Miguel would have conversations, he found it hard to focus. First, you have a stunning face but those legs? Oh, he was a goner. Though he had only seen you with in your Spider-suit, Miguel couldn't help but take a liking to your legs. Your thighs, though comprised of muscle - jiggled when you walked, and your calves looked as firm as his demeanor on a bad morning. Miguel had never had a thing for legs before (or at least not to his knowledge) but now he found himself fascinated by your legs and their length and angles. He could spend days worshipping the curvature between your calves and thighs.

When Miguel finally does see you out of uniform? He needs to leave the room. Don't ask why, he just does.

When you two finally start dating, Miguel can't take his eyes off of you. All he can do is stare (mainly at your legs) and thank Padre Dios that he managed to pull you into his life.

But, while what initially made you stand out to Miguel was your height, it actually doesn't play that big of a role in your relationship. As time goes on and lust simmers into love, you and Miguel are just a regular couple.

Though he doesn't spend much time in his home (or didn't until you), Miguel's space is tailor-made for him. Meaning chairs, couches, tables, and shelves big and high enough to accommodate him and his height. While a small thing to note, he's glad that he finally has someone doesn't find issue with it all.

Miguel is aware of the of the stereotypes and jabs thrown at girls of your stature and so he does his best to constantly remind you that you are beautiful, attractive, feminine, etc.

If you're shorter than him (doesn't even matter if it's an inch), he likes to crack short jokes with you here and there.

"Bebita, come look at this!" Miguel yells from his in front of your bedroom's television. "What is it, Miguel?" you ask, peaking your head out of the bathroom. "They say it's going to be windy today," He juts his chin towards the TV screen before refocusing on tying his tie. "Take precaution." "Miguel," you scoff. "What? I don't want you getting swept up by the wind." "Okay, firstly, you know damn well-"

If you're taller than him, Miguel also has jokes for that.

"Bebita, could you please pass me that plate over there?" Miguel asks, pointing his chin at a cabinet shelf that is directly at eye level with him. "Miguel," you give him a pointed look. He shrugs at you, continuing to wash the dishes. "Hey, don't put things up so high if you don't want me to ask you to get them." (For the next week, you started putting all the dishes in the bottom drawer)

The jokes, however, are only reserved for him. If anyone else makes a joke about your height, Miguel gets upset. Just ask Hobie. One time, Hobie asked you how you couldn't tell him what the weather was like from up there (all in good fun) and Miguel, who had no context of the conversation and walked in at the wrong time almost crucified him.

Miguel secretly loves how you two look together. As the head of the Spider Society (again, he likes to be the big, scary boss man), he enjoys the presence that you two create together. Domineering, commanding. Whether you two are in uniform or formal clothing - when you two talk, people listen.

If you work out, Miguel loves to go to the gym with you. Not only because he likes to see you in workout gear (though trust him, that is a very, very, very big plus) but because he finally has somebody who understands the struggle of putting on (visible) muscle.

Miguel loves kisses with you. He's always been very big physical touch in relationships but never before has it been so easy to just steal a kiss. And so, it has been become his favorite pastime.

Miguel loves to see you in dresses and shorts and heels. Anything that accentuates your height. Sometimes when you come home, you see a dress or a new pair of shoes that you've been wanting. However, other times, you find an article of clothing or shoes from a brand that you didn't even know existed. But if it's jeans or a maxi dress, they always cover your legs, if it's a regular shirt, your stomach isn't exposed, and whatever it is always looks good on you.

Sometimes when cuddling, Miguel will just start tracing and/or kneading random parts of your body because there's just so much of you to love and he doesn't know where to start.

At the end of each and every day, no matter if you're taller or shorter than him, Miguel likes to make you feel safe and protected. He likes to play the role of protector/provider and makes you feel taken care of and comfortable.

Bonus: "Your children are going to be some stallions, ain't they?" Hobie says, looking between you and Miguel. You laugh but Miguel glares at him with a scowl that would make most start running for the hills. "Stallions, eh?" you repeat later that night, in bed with him. While not a fan of you slowly assimilating to Hobie's humor, Miguel chuckles dryly and pulls you closer to him. "Indeed," he says, placing a kiss to the top of your head.

[smiley-positivity-potato]

i have something to say, for all young transmascs or newly transitioning transmascs: just know the "womanhood" you had to endure will be used against you EMOTIONALLY as a trans masc. And not in the way many have spoken about. when you speak up on the abuse, trauma or experiences you went through growing up, people will make excuses of having thought you were just an "emotional teen girl", despite you trying to explain it to them- as an adult trans man. you try to tell them you just wanted help and presently want people to recognize their wrongs. like how they taught you as a child.

but instead they'll make excuses on how they each don't know how to take accountability, for the past or present. they'll say how you seemed like "your mother" at that age, so they thought it was a phase. so now they don't even want to hear or learn how they hurt you. they don't even want to know how to get help or therapy to communicate with you better. AND THEY DONT EVEN WANNA HEAR THEIR OTHER OPTIONS EITHER. they feel like you should just "let it go" when you bring up how it has effected you as a trans man growing up NOW , they dismiss you or blame your behavior on YOU INSTEAD. the reactions of a child, are labelled as an inconvenience, that you should take accountability for when you held no power. they did. so now that they don't, they don't even want to TRY to understand you-

all in all: they will use your past unchosen childhood to label you as an emotional "woman" who is hanging onto the past. when that is not it. it is NOW the accountability of the PRESENT. you want PRESENT ACCOUNTABILITY AND APOLOGIES. YOU WANT ACTUAL ACKNOWLEDGEMENT AND GENUINE EMOTIONAL REFLECTION. and every person in this world deserves that. do not fall for this lack of effort and communication- do not endure it to feel loved as a transmasc. the fact that you are younger AND have tried your best to understand EVERYONE around you all your life is enough. the fact that they won't even try to do it on their own FOR FIVE GENUINE MINUTES, says enough.

saying they don't know how to NOT say awful things to you- is a lack of effort alone. if they can watch you try to get help to understand them for YEARS, they should AT LEAST TRY to find a professional or group or ANYONE to learn how to mend the relationship they damaged or broke with YOU, if they are able. they should NOT use your past or present emotions AGAINST YOU- indirectly defining you as just an "emotional, hormonal, traumatized woman". but they will try. do not let THEM gaslight you or trick you into thinking they can't at least put SOME effort into respecting you as a MAN with FEELINGS FROM THE TRAUMA THEY MAY HAVE DIRECTLY OR INDIRECTLY CAUSED. they can AND they should put effort into rebuilding what they destroyed. because let me tell you something i've learned:

"If you stepped into a puddle and forgot to wipe your feet before you entered a loved one's house; then the tracks you left are still your's. No matter where you go in the house they will always be yours- and it's up to you to not keep leaving them."

whether they meant to or not, they still left filth on your floors- and we all know who's tracks they are. we all saw it, but the question is: will they return and do it again, with cheeky pride and their head held up high, or will they clean up the floor apologetically, and reflect on every time they left tracks accidentally, or purposely, in your house. will they think about how YOU felt; how they put you into a position of having to speak up for yourself to keep your "house" clean and respected? will they acknowledge all the other times they wouldn't listen or will they dismiss them? as said by ALL my medical professionals, the LGBTQIA community AND my chosen family, you have a RIGHT to cut these people permanently out of your life, and out of your emotional "home".

and if the next time you see them is at their funeral, that's ok. because you have a right as a TRANS MASC HUMAN BEING to put your safety, sanity, well being, respect and emotions FIRST. you have a right to PROTECT yourself from that negativity and pain. do NOT sacrifice yourself to PROVE ANYTHING to ANYONE. do not overexert yourself trying to get them to understand you when all it does is cause you to breakdowns- AND it hurts.

you KNOW who you are. and that is ENOUGH. KNOW IT WILL ALWAYS BE ENOUGH. for you are a transmasc who has EMOTIONS, A PAST AND PRESENT, PAIN AND TRAUMA. You are a VALUED, LOVABLE PERSON AND YOU DESERVE TO FEEL RESPECTED AND SEEN IN THIS WORLD REGARDLESS OF WHAT ANY "LOVED" ONE SAYS- and if your "family/loved" ones have too much pride to acknowledge that- LEAVE.

[creweemmaeec11]

Dark Horse Painted White Part 3

Pt 1 Pt 2

Hero couldn't help the feeling of guilt clawing at their throat. They were at such a loss! They'd tried so hard to be nice to civilian this morning, but it was as if the nicer they were, the more Civilian seemed to hate them! They didn't understand what they'd done so wrong!

Despite their loss of appetite, hero ate their omelette to avoid being rude, before doing the dishes like they'd promised. They wiped down the table, and even spotted a broom behind the fridge they used to sweep.

When their civilian host still wasn't back yet. Hero awkwardly lay back down on the couch, not daring to touch anything else they might get in trouble for. It was very rare they ever got the opportunity to sleep in like this, nevermind have free time. What should they do? It's not like they had time for any hobbies. What did normal people do with time off?

Hero continued staring at the ceiling. They'd checked their phone a half dozen times. No new assignments or instructions from their boss. They hadn't even gotten any paperwork passed off to them yet. They received nothing but radio silence, all their time meant to be dedicated to protecting the Civilian.

Finally, after what felt like hours of staring at the wall, hero heard the door at the end of the hall open and the clacking of claws approach. Immediately, they sat up to attention.

Civilian rounded the corner, holding a notebook and a pen but their eyes stayed trained on their phone as they typed with their other hand.

"Here," they said, tossing the two items onto the coffee table, "make a list of stuff you want picked up at the grocery store,"

"Wait, what?"

"Food, hero," civilian deadpanned, "unless you plan on eating all of mine while your here?"

"N-no, of course not! But-"

"Then get to writing," they quipped, before turning and heading to the kitchen.

Despite their confusion, hero did as they were told, writing down a list of things they could think of that didn't take much preparation.

Civilian came back a few minutes later, looking at the hero expectantly.

They stood up off the couch, handing the notepad back to their host, "Please let me pay, for all of my stuff at least-"

"Do you have cash?" Civilian asked as they started typing on their phone yet again.

"Only $20, but I can send you the rest-"

"The twenty is fine," they replied. They weren't giving the hero any sort of link to their accounts. Civilian's eyes finally left their phone screen to begin reading the list. Something in their face seemed to shift as they read the items.

"Is something wrong?" Hero asked nervously.

"We just have a much simmilar palette then I would have expected," they replied, tone a mix of begrudging and in awe.

Hero wanted to ask why, but they bit their tongue, "are we going to go pick this stuff up?"

"No, I'm having a... uhm, *friend* pick it up for me," Civilian replied, snapping a photo of the notepad before dropping it back down on the table.

"So, what are we going to do today then?" Hero questioned.

"Nothing," the other replied, tucking their phone back into their pocket.

"Nothing? What do you mean nothing?"

"As in we aren't doing anything..." Civilian explained in confusion, "I canceled my plans,"

"But..." hero hesitated,"what should I do then?"

The civilian bit back the comment of telling the hero they should leave, if not for it being a waste of breath, then for how genuinely confused the hero sounded, "Uhm... I don't know? Whatever you want? You didn't bring anything with you to keep you occupied?"

Hero looked a bit perplexed, "uhm... no? Should I have?"

"Well... I would have thought so... never mind. It doesn't matter. I'm sure you can find something on TV at least,"

"Oh, yeah okay, sure,"

"Queen," Civilian whistled, "remote,"

Hero watched in wonder as the large white dog ran to grab the remote, bringing it over to the Civilian.

"Good girl," they praised, taking the item from the dogs mouth, "Tell me your favourite channels and I'll find their numbers for you,"

There was a beat of silence. The lack of answer caused the Civilian to glance over at the hero with a mix of confusion and annoyance.

"I... I don't know.... I'm not familiar with any of the different channels. I haven't watched anything other then the news in years,"

Civilian's face simply shifted into even more confusion, "uhm.. okay... well you can get youtube on this TV too. Do you watch anything on that?"

"Uhm, no... I don't think so," hero shifted awkwardly, "Maybe you could reccomend something?"

"Uh..." Civilian stuttered, suddenly strangely flattered hero would trust their judgment and taste to make a suggestion.

They cleared their throat. Nothing coming from a hero was any sort of compliment.

There was no way they were going to be sharing their actual preferences with hero!

"Yeah, sure I guess," Civilian shrugged. They'd share shows they thought were okay, but not their favorites. "But what do you even do in your spare time?" They asked as they navigated through the channels on the TV.

"Uh, well," they chuckled dryly, scratching the back of their head, "I don't exactly have a lot of spare time. Evil never rests as they say, and that usually means neither do I,"

Civilian internally rolled their eyes. What a drama queen. There was no way hero wasn't exaggerating. Because sure, this city did have it's fair share of criminals, but there was no way a major crime took place nearly every day. Three times a week, max.

"Plus, if the city holds any big public events, I always need to be there in case a villain decides to show up. That mixed with all the press conferences, fan meet and greets, training, street watch, you know... and any time I have leftover gets used up by finishing all the paperwork the other officers don't get done," the hero gave a forced laugh again, "in fact, I think this morning was the first time I've gotten to sleep-in in..." they blinked, "I can't even remember..."

The hero glanced up, realizing they'd been rambling and were about to apologize but the look on the Civilian's face made them stop.

Civilian was looking at them with an incredulous, shocked expression.

"Of course it's all worth it!" Hero sputtered.

"Sounds like you need to put your foot down" Civilian scoffed, turning back to the tv. So what if they'd been wrong about hero's daily life? Just because they didn't live like royalty? If anything, heros probably deserved to be working so hard, for all the problems they caused, it served them right not to have any free time! If they wanted to throw their life away for some meaningless agency, what did villain care?!

"Maybe you're right, but.... I'm a bit of a people pleaser" hero chuckled again.

Civilian side-eyed them, "you don't say," they scoffed, before carelessly tossing the remote next to the hero on the couch, "Give this channel a try for now. If you don't like it, just change the channel till you find something,"

"W-wait!" Hero sputtered, quickly jumping to their feet.

Civilian's feet regrettably stuttered to a stop. They turned their head, glancing over their shoulder at their unwanted guest.

"What?" They snapped, failing to hide the annoyance in their tone.

"Where are you going?"

"To my room?"

"But... I'm supposed to keep an eye on you? I can't really do that if you're in the other end of the house with the door closed..."

Civilian grumbled. That had been the entire point.

"Fine, I'll work in the kitchen," they amended, before heading to their room to gather a few things.

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

The house had been quiet for the next few hours, the only sound being the soft murmur of the wTV in the other room, when suddenly there was a knock at the door.

Hero immediately jumped to their feet.

"Please, let me get it!" Hero asked quickly, coming up behind the Civilian who was about to open the door, "just in case,"

Civilian rolled their eyes, scoffing under their breath, but they didn't argue, stepping aside to let the hero grab the handle.

The door opened to reveal no one, only multiple grocery bags on the front step. The hero poked their head out further, looking around, but they couldn't see anyone.

"Uh..."

The Civilian didn't say anything, instead pushing past them to begin bringing the bags inside. Quickly, the hero scurried to help.

"Was that your friend?"

"No, my groceries just teleported onto my doorstep," Civilian replied sarcastically as they began taking things out and putting them onto the counter.

The hero chuckled humorously, "No, I mean, where did they go? Why did they run off so quickly?"

"Maybe supervillain got them,"

"What?!"

Civilian gave them an incredulous and unimpressed look, "they were *busy* hero," they explained, rolling their eyes.

"Oh, right," Hero replied, clearing their throat awkwardly, "Well, it sure was nice of them to pick up everything for you,"

*that's what they get paid for* civilian thought to themselves.

Once everything was put away, they let out a sigh.

"I need to take Nova and Queen out for a walk. Be ready to go in half an hour," Civilian stated matter-of-factly before disappearing down the hall and into their room.

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Midnight Rain

“I broke his heart because he was nice. He was Sunshine, I was Midnight Rain…”

Request from ao3- "ok but imagine a grumpy/sunshine fic with sam but the reader is the grumpy one 🤷" For one of my fave readers, @/badasswithafatass I hope you enjoy! 💛

Pairing - Sam Wilson x Reader Sam Wilson Masterlist | Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist Anon's 1K Celebration

“You know, for a smart guy, you’re pretty fucking dense," Bucky mutters, taking another swig of his beer.

“Aw… you think I’m smart?” Sam sarcastically awes from the bar stool beside Bucky.

Bucky rolls his eyes, shaking his head, “Do you honestly think she had any real interest in me?”

Bucky doesn't miss the tick in Sam's jaw at the mention of you. Months had passed since the last time Sam saw you, and he wasn’t too keen on remembering that dreaded last night. Just the memory of you leaning over the bar counter, hand resting on Bucky’s chest, whispering something in Bucky's ear, was enough to make Sam's stomach twist into a knot.

Even before that night, he could tell that you were pulling away from him, but there it was, that night, the final nail in the coffin. That was the last time he’d seen or heard from you. You walked out of his life without so much as a goodbye.

Sam rolls his shoulders back, his mouth twisting in distaste, “Sure seemed like it to me.”

“See? Dense,” Bucky declares, tipping his beer in Sam's direction.

“Alright, I’ll bite. How does any of that make me dense?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Are you going to keep insulting me or are you going to actually explain?”

“Sam, she’s a spy, an assassin," Bucky explains like it should be obvious. "She knew you were standing there. She knew you were watching.”

"So maybe she wanted to make a point. It’s not like she was one for talking or communicating, maybe that was her way of letting me know how she actually felt. Trust me, I got the message loud and clear. That doesn’t make me dense."

"Sam..." Bucky takes a long breath. "We're a lot alike, me and her. And people like us, we cut and run, it's what we do. We don't wait for things to go bad, we live with the expectation that things will always go bad."

Sam tosses the rest of his whiskey back, flagging down the bartender for another one. "That's a depressing way to live."

“It keeps us alive.”

“We weren’t on a battlefield!" Sam spits through gritted teeth. "We were done with the fight, remember? We won, for Christ’s sake!”

“And where did that leave her, Sam? With a conditional pardon? People watching us 24/7?”

“With me!” Sam snaps, slamming his glass down on the bar. “It left her with me. We were good, Bucky! We were happy together. At least, I thought we were happy together. I even- I told her that after everything, that I would take her back home, meet my family, maybe settle down a little.”

"And while you're thinking about taking her home to meet your family, she's probably thinking how a family like yours is going to react to you bringing an actual assassin home."

"I... didn't think about it like that,” Sam confesses, faltering for a moment. He shakes his head. No. He refuses to accept that. It didn't excuse that he'd found you flirting with his best friend. It didn't change that you told him he meant nothing to you. “Because I don't think about her like that. And you know what? She could've talked to me, she could've told me she felt like that, Bucky, but she didn't."

"Sam, can I be honest?"

"Shoot."

"I don't think you two will ever work."

"That's a shitty thing to say to me," Sam spits.

"I don't," Bucky admits with a languid shrug. "Honest truth, I don't see it."

"You don't have to see it, I do,” Sam firmly states. “I see it working out."

Bucky claps a hand on Sam's shoulder with a tight lipped smile, "That's my point, Sam. That's the difference between you and us. You, you live for the hope of it all. She doesn't know how to do that. I don't know how to do that. We're broken, haunted people, Sam. We hurt people that get too close."

"You're wrong."

"Why else-"

"Because she was bored!" Sam angrily shouts, not caring at the stares his outburst brings. "She only wanted me because I was there."

“Do you honestly believe that?”

“Yes. I do believe that,” Sam hisses. “Unlike you guys, I believe the words that come out of people’s mouth. She was bored... She was bored and I was there.”

Bucky takes a long pull from his beer, rising from his seat with a defeated sigh. He turns to Sam to offer one last piece of insight, “All I’m saying is I wouldn’t go on the run with someone for two years because I was bored. Not unless I really gave a shit about them. Not unless I loved them, like really loved them.”

"Do you mean that?" Sam asks over his shoulder.

"Yeah, I mean that."

--

3 Years Earlier - Somewhere in Scotland

“Just let me do the talking, okay?”

Sam raises up his hands, “No arguments from me.”

The doorknob rattles for a moment, opening just enough for you to stand before them. You look at them and immediately try to snap the door shut, “No.”

Nat extends out her hand to stop the door from swinging shut. “Just hear us-“

“No.”

"You don't even know why we're here," Nat argues. “It’s important. Please.”

You relent, allowing the door to fling open. Standing tall in the doorway, your eyes rake over each of them, “Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov or whatever name you’re going by now, and Sam Wilson, all in the flesh, all the most wanted fugitives on Earth. So I don’t care how important it is, my answer is no.”

Sam’s eyes comically widen, his voice taking a slightly bewildered, high pitched tone, “How did - Do you happen to know the names of all strangers that show up at your door?”

Your eyes dart over to Sam with a grimace, “Strangers that show up at my door end up dead. Consider yourself lucky.”

“I want you to know I’m choosing to take that as a compliment,” Sam quips, placing his hand over his heart. 

“Don’t worry, Sam," Natasha smirks over her shoulder. "She’s more bark than bite. And this is me calling in a favor.”

Your eyes narrow at Natasha, "Which favor?"

"Budapest."

Your mouth narrows into a thin line as you glare at her. You hated that favor.

You look back at the three of them. Even dressed in street clothes they all stuck out like sore thumbs. They’re all disheveled, clearly exhausted, and you did owe Natasha. You convince yourself that there is no good in this deed, it’s just a repayment. Even as your eyes linger back to Sam for a second too long. You tell yourself you don't care what happens to any of them. It's just paying a debt. “Fine. Just keep me out of it.”

Natasha nods, offering a small grateful smile, “Thank you.”

You turn on your heels without another word, striding down to your room. You slam your bedroom door shut, leaving the others on their own.

“It was nice meeting you,” Sam calls after you.

You don’t bother to reply.

After a few hours, the sun sets and your safe house returns back to its normal quiet state except for the soft snores of Steve Rogers in your spare bedroom. You’re certain that they’ve all gone off to get some rest. That is, everyone, except Sam Wilson.

“Have a good nap?” Sam greets you, sitting on the small couch in the middle of your living room.

Your eyes snap over to Sam, lightly scoffing, “Actually, I was avoiding you.”

Your brutal honestly doesn’t phase Sam. The corner of his mouth twitches up as he playfully tugs on the collar of his t-shirt, “I tend to have that effect on the ladies… That sounded better in my head.”

“For you and me both,” you quip.

“You know, you’re kind of a jackass.”

“I know. Thanks.” That's the only conversation you plan on having with Sam Wilson. You continue walking to the kitchen without saying anything else.

"So how long have you and Nat been friends?" Sam asks, trailing you as you walk to your kitchen, clearly not taking the hint that you don't want to talk to him.

You scoff over your shoulder, "Who said we were friends?"

"So you're not friends? Because the whole letting us hide out here, housing us, letting us eat your food, not turning us in, sorta gave me a different idea."

"We're not friends."

In truth, your relationship to Natasha was much more complex than that. At one point, you were like sisters. In the Red Room, she was all you had. Your only friend. Your confidante. And still, you could never quite live up to her, always second to her. You knew all her secrets, all the blood spilt, all the skeletons in her closet, and she knew all of yours.

The night before your graduation, you ran. As far away and as quickly as your legs could carry you.

You were never quite sure if it was irony or simply Dreykov’s own cruelty, but she was the one tasked to find you and collect you. You never stood much of a chance against the person that spent almost two decades besting you. She found you in Budapest. It would’ve taken a single shot. And still, it never came.

But you weren’t going to tell that to Sam.

"You're not friends?”

"No."

After that, your paths crossed only once in a blue moon. Once Natasha left Dreykov, she never sought you out. And you didn’t bother to either. You weren’t friends. You weren’t enemies. She was the sister that became little more than a stranger.

"Do you help all your not friends run from the law?"

"Natalia and I have an agreement of ... mutually assured destruction."

"Mutually assured destruction?" he dubiously repeats, quirking an eyebrow. "...So best friends."

In spite of your best efforts, your outwardly stoic expression gives way as a chuckle bubbles out of your mouth.

"Did anyone see that?” Sam proudly announces to the empty house. “I want it on the record that I made a Black Widow laugh!"

"Don't push it," you warn, though the hint of a smile that pulls at the corner of your mouth dampens the threatening undertone of your words.

"You've got a nice smile," Sam compliments.

You wipe the smile off your face, but there's nothing you can do to tame the slight blush creeping up your face, so you say the first thing that comes to mind, "Fuck off."

--

That's how it went between you and him. Push and pull.

Their time at your safe house in Scotland was short lived. No more than a few weeks. And even in those few short weeks, he saw it, saw the good that you desperately tried to keep hidden. Even then he knew, he knew you cared so much more than you would ever let on. Cooped up in your little cottage, he found that behind your barbed words and tough exterior, was a person that he really liked. You didn't let him see very much of it. Most of the time, it was in little slip ups, little cracks in your armor, but he saw it. He swore he did.

Sam ambles alone through the streets of New York, the pavement is still damp from the midnight rain, the noisy cityscape is the only thing keeping Sam from fixating on the endless loop of memories playing in his head.

He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t think about you anymore. He did. All the time.

He thinks about how good it used to be. How even on the run, constantly looking over your shoulder, it was good. He'd like to think you were as happy as he was.

In truth, he wasn't sure how or when it happened. You weren't very nice to him - to any of them really. You kept them at arm's length. He had to earn every glimpse of the person behind the armor. He had to earn every smile, every laugh, but he found each one was worth it. To him, you were worth it. You were worth all of it. 

And when that time came, when that safe house wasn't safe anymore, you stayed by his side, you became his home. 

--

You simply walked up to the breakfast table and announced that it wasn't safe to stay much longer. "You have to leave."

"What?"

"We've been here too long. People in town are beginning to talk."

Natasha didn't miss a beat. "How long?"

"Tonight."

Sam watches the interaction closely. You refuse to look at him. For a moment, Natasha's eyes look at you, imploring. She utters a quiet question in Russian.

You don't respond, only shaking your head once.

"I understand." She softly inhales, her shoulders slumping slightly, "Thank you."

You nod, turning on your heels and heading to your room. You didn't expect Sam to follow after you.

There's some part of you that's unsettled by how easily Sam fits into your life. You don't like how he speaks to you like you're friends. You don't like that there's a part of you that would love to know what being in Sam's life would feel like. And you most certainly don't like that Sam has no problem questioning you. Prying into your life. He won't like what he finds. He'll run the moment he sees the number of skeletons in your closet. No, you don't like that at all. 

And you definitely don't like that he feels comfortable enough to follow you back to your bedroom. He wedges himself into your doorway, leaning against the wall, "So what about you?"

You don't turn to look at him as you pack your duffle bag, "What about me?"

"Where you gonna go?"

"I have other places."

"By yourself?"

"Typically."

"Why don't you stay with us?"

You pretend like you're surprised by the offer. As though Natasha didn't offer the same thing two minutes ago. You just didn't expect Sam's kindness to extend past his need for your safe house. "What?"

He takes a step off the wall. Even turned away from him, you can practically hear the grin he wears in his words. "We could always use the help. You seem like kind of a pro at being a fugitive."

"I don't think your team would appreciate my presence."

"I would. I want you to come." Sam turns back at the doorframe. He pauses for a moment, looking back at you. "You should come with us."

--

You never told him why you ended up joining them. It was the one question he couldn't ever get a straight answer for.

He couldn't really remember how or when you ended up in his bed - or more accurately, when he ended up in your bed.

All he knew was that for two years, you were his sanctuary. Each and every night. He held you. Kissed away your fears. You allowed him to see parts of you that you buried long ago. 

It made the moment you walked away hurt even more. 

He doesn't know what the hell he's doing here. He's pacing through the streets of New York in the middle of the night. It won't bring you back. It won't change what happened. You still left him.

It was easier believing that you left him because you didn't love him. 

The other option hurts. It hurts too much. His heart almost shatters at the though of you leaving him because you didn't see it working out, because you thought you would hurt him. 

That's the worst part - he believes Bucky. He believes that no one, not even someone as prone to finding trouble as you are, would ever go on the run with someone for the hell of it. Not unless you cared. Not unless you loved him. 

He should've seen it. The panic in your eyes when he suggested going back to Louisiana. The pain when you lost Natasha, the last person you considered family. 

It eats at him. He didn't even try. Not really. Yeah, you walked away, but he could've gone after you. He could've believed in the love he knew you shared. 

He reaches for his phone, tucking into the crook of his neck as he hails a cab, and calls the one person that could possibly help him, "I need your help. Can you find someone for me?"

--

1 Year Earlier - Somewhere in Eastern Europe

“Stop watching me sleep.”

Sam kisses your bare shoulder, resting his chin on your arm, “It’s the only time you’re not frowning. Except when you’re with me, of course.”

You sleepily sigh, trying to suppress the smile that Sam so effortlessly puts on your face. You halfheartedly push him away, rolling further away from him, “I’m going back to sleep.”

Sam’s arms wrap around you, pulling you closer to him, “No, come back.”

“We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow, we should get the rest while we can.”

“I miss you,” Sam whines.

“I’m right here.”

“But we’re always talking about work, about the world ending, I just - I just want a minute, just me and you.”

You finally turn around to face him with a cheeky grin, “You had me to yourself all night, remember?”

“How could I forget?”

You settle against him, resting your head on his chest, “So why couldn’t you sleep?”

He smiles down at you, absentmindedly playing with your fingers, “I was thinking.”

“About?” you urge.

“What comes next. After the fight, after everything, about going home, finally seeing my family again. My sister would love you. I can't wait to introduce you."

Your smile slips from your face. "What?"

"I mean, I know we're on the run and everything, but I'm still holding onto hope," Sam confesses. "You'd love Louisiana."

A sinking feeling overtakes you. Those survival instincts you've spent your entire life cultivating bubble up. You could see Sam's family picture where he left it on the dresser. His picture perfect, shiny family.

That wasn't you. Not even in your wildest dreams could that be you. The closest thing you had to a family was the Black Widow sitting in the other room cleaning her knives. You weren't meant for domesticity. You weren't built for the happy ending that Sam deserved. The happy ending he wanted. 

Sure, he loved you now, but would he love you when his family looks at you with disdain? Would he love you when Sarah refuses to let you anywhere near his nephews? 

Or even worse, what if he did? What if he loved you through it all and you broke him in return? What if he loved you and he lost everything else because of it?

You could tell Sam. Right here and now. Tell him that you weren't built for that life. He would listen. He would hear you. Like all of your other scars and imperfections, Sam would take it in stride. You knew he would. 

But could you really do that to him? Doom him to a life tethered to someone so tainted.

He was perfect. In every conceivable way. He was Sunshine. And though you'd done unspeakable things, there would be nothing quite as vile as dragging him down to the dim, murky depths of the wasteland you called home.

He deserved more. More than you would ever be. 

--

6 Months Ago - A Bar in New York City

"You don't have to do this."

You bitterly chuckle. It was too late. You'd made up your mind. You gave yourself until the war against Thanos was won. You gave yourself that time to say your silent goodbyes, to memorize the one and only love you would ever allow yourself to have. You were selfish in that way.

Now was the time to save Sam while you still could, to finally set him free. Even if you had to break his heart to do it. You rest your hand on Bucky's chest, the furthest you could allow yourself to go without making your stomach turn. "Do what?"

Bucky's jaw ticks, "He's a good man."

"I know." It's the only time your voice reveals even an ounce of your pain. Your eyes flicker to over Bucky's shoulder. It's too late. Sam stands a few feet from you, watching you with anguish in his eyes. For good measure, you lean in closer, whispering in Bucky's ear, "But I never did well with sunshine."

"Can I talk to you outside?" Sam demands. 

You roll your eyes and snort, "If we have to."

"We do."

Sam doesn't waste a single moment. The second you step outside, he points back to the bar, "What the hell was that?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Are you kidding me? I saw you. You were all over him. He's my friend!"

"I was just having a little fun, Sam."

"A little fun?" Sam scoffs. "Are you kidding me?"

You don't allow a single ounce of remorse to show. You don't allow him to see the regret. Your face is purposely blank, cold and uncaring. You were good at this part. You were good at hurting people. It's exactly why you have to let him go. "I don't see what the big deal is, Sam."

"You don't see what the big deal is?" Sam's voice wavers. "You were just coming onto my friend! What about us?"

"What about us?" you scoff. "I was bored, Sam, we had our fun but it's done now. We're not on the run anymore. It's not a big deal."

"Just like that, we're just done?"

"You were there, Sam," you lie through your teeth. Acid churns in your stomach, rising up through your esophagus and coating your every word. "There's nothing more to it, nothing more to us."

You'd done a lot of bad things in your life, but nothing made you feel quite as wretched as watching Sam's heart shatter before you. It was better this way. He didn't know it, but it was for the best. You couldn't ruin his life anymore. You couldn't hurt him if you walked away right now. Those were the last words you ever said to him. 

--

He did it. He couldn't believe it. He'd found you. There you were, standing out on a rooftop, out in the pouring midnight rain. He almost laughs because of course you wouldn't even realize how theatrical this whole scene was. "Do you realize how dramatic it is to be standing out in the pouring rain all by yourself? And without an umbrella?"

"I'm working, Sam."

"Shooting your next romantic comedy? Is this the breakup scene?"

You don't even turn to look at him. “You shouldn’t be here, Sam.”

Sam scoffs, “That’s all you have to say? That I shouldn’t be here?”

“Go home, Sam," you demand. "I don’t want you here.”

“You’re such a jackass, you know that?”

It pisses him off that you still refuse to even look at him. If you were going to break his heart all over again, the least you could do was look him in the eye. You speak through clenched teeth, "I know."

He storms around, planting himself in front of you, forcing you to look at him. "No, I mean that, I really, truly, from the bottom of my heart, I mean that. You're such an asshole. You're one of the most difficult, abrasive, cold, and selfish people I've ever met."

You can't bring yourself to meet his gaze. You look just past him, mustering every ounce of your training to stay stone faced, "I know."

"Do you know how hard it was to find you?"

"I didn't ask you to come here," you spit at him. "I didn't want you to come looking for me. You knew that."

"And you're a liar!" Sam exclaims, a bitter laugh bubbling up from his chest. "A damned good one, too."

"I never lied to you about who or what I was."

"But you did lie, didn't you? You've lied to me before."

“Yes, I have," you softly admit. You catch yourself, reminding yourself of why you're being so harsh with Sam. You force yourself to speak with that venomous tone you know all too well, "Many times, so if you’re done insulting me, I have to go.”

"God, you're so selfish, and- and you're mean! You brood way too much. You're so fucking angsty all the time. You act like the tortured character in every shitty teen movie every made. You're inconsiderate. You don't listen. I swear, talking to you is like talking to a brick wall. And sometimes - sometimes, I want to hate you so much."

It takes everything in you to sound as unaffected as you do. You quirk an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms over your chest, "Is that why you came here? Because you're upset?"

"Upset?" Sam incredulously repeats, taking a step toward you. He's still several feet away from you, still far out of your reach, "No, I'm not upset. I was upset six months ago. Now, I'm angry. I'm pissed off - with you. I have never been so mad at another human being in my entire life."

"I didn't do anything to you. You knew who I was - who I am."

"You think that's why I'm pissed? I'm pissed because you made me like you. I'm pissed that you made me fall so hopelessly in love with you."

For the first time in six months, your eyes find his. His warm eyes, the ones that grounded you through storms of midnight rain. He'd never said he loved you before - there's no taking that back. You suck in a breath, "Sam."

"I'm pissed because I believed you when you said you were bored. But mostly, I'm pissed that I let you go, that I let you walk away without fighting for you."

You try to warn him, beg him to stop before he says something that'll make it too hard to walk away from him. "Sam."

"Because I'm in love with you."

Your voice wavers as you beg him, "Don't do this, Sam."

"I'm in love with you," Sam announces again to his audience of one. "And I know you don't think you're good for me. And I know that it won't be easy, but I am. I am in love with you. Every part of you. Especially the parts you don't like. I like that you're mean, I like that you're tougher than any other person I've ever met, I like that you're grumpy. I like that you don't see how dramatic it is to stand in the pouring rain all by yourself! I love you. I love all of you."

"Sam..." His name leaves your mouth in a whisper. It's too late. You're not strong enough to survive walking away from him. He's doomed himself.

He takes a step closer to you. "And maybe it wasn't real... but I think it was. I think you feel the same." And then another step. And yet another. Until you're face to face, close enough that you could reach out and touch him for the first time in months. The rain beats down on the two of you. The dampness on your cheeks has nothing to do with the rain. "Tell me that you don't love me and I'll leave. Tell me and I won't bother you again, I promise."

You can't. You can't bring yourself to say any of it. "Sam, it'll never work for us. You have to know that."

"We're not at war anymore." His hand skates across your cheek. "We don't have to hide. We don't have to run."

"I'm not - I'm not good, Sam." And you are, you want to say.

“No, no, you’re not good. You’re great. You’re amazing. And it’s a damn shame you haven’t stepped into the daylight long enough to see how incredible you are.”

You jerk your face away from his hand, “And what if I can’t give you what you want? What if I can’t be what you want?”

“What do you know about what I want?”

“You want a bride. You want someone to bring home to your family - that’s not me, Sam. I don’t think that’ll ever be me.”

“I want you." Sam takes your face in between both hands, begging you to see the sincerity in his eyes. "I want you in whatever way you’ll have me.”

“I’m not worth it," you softly exhale. "You have to know that I’m not worth the trouble and the heartache I’ll put you through.”

“Break my heart," Sam offers without hesitation. "Do it over and over again. Do it for the rest of our lives. It’s all yours. You’re worth it.”

“Sam…” You didn’t have any other defense. He’d broken down each and every argument you spent years cultivating. You didn’t know where to go from here.

“Do you love me?” Your lips press into a thin line, eyes squeezing shut to keep the tears welling in your eyes from falling. The rain slows to a halt. His thumb and pointer finger grip your chin, forcing you to meet his warm brown eyes. “Do you love me?”

“I love you.” You don't think you've ever said those words before. You don't think you've ever seen the daylight until you saw him. It'll take time for your eyes to adjust, but he's worth it. "I love you so much it hurts, so much that I let you go."

“You don't have to let me go anymore. We'll figure the rest out together."

Sam Wilson Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez@ludicbouquetfromearth@matchat3a@famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff@valoraxx@blue786sworld@buckyandgeraltsupremacy@geminigengar@ansaturn@ecolle@lexhalstead3@ybflkmj@mediocre-daydreams@shanye1112@thegirlnextdoorssister@toomanyfanficsbruh@moonlightreader649@breathtaking-cynthia@mirikusashes@beans-and-toast@niyahcoca@katiechikin@elxvrr@antiheroxsblog@infamouslyclumsy@krissydclayton93@buckysbarne@deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic@whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy

[kairiscorner]

hihiii pookie :DD!!

tw// mentions of depression

i'm wondering if you could maybe write a comfort fic about miles 42 with a reader who hates asking for help even when theyre clearly suffering in silence because they were taught to just 'suck it up' and deal with it alone as a kid?

you dont have to write this if you dont feel comfortable with it <33

Thank you pooks :33!!

hi pooks @jrrantss <:DD oh man, okay so i was kind of that kid back then too (though i was a big crybaby) it's like the adults around me didn't fully comprehend why i was feeling the way i was, so in response to that, they basically condemned crying at home or in front of them. i'm sorry if you went through something similar or, hopefully not, something worse ;-; i hope this provides you some comfort, and in a way, might also let you know you aren't the only one going through stuff like this. i'm here for you pookie, all the time <:)

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

you can be honest with me. – miles 42 x reader (angst + comfort)

nothing went your way this week, hell, you couldn't even remember a week in your life when anything felt right, when you didn't feel that you were holding yourself back from letting go of everything that felt wrong, awful, and just... painful. you were too good at keeping secrets, too good at lying about how you really felt; and that was something you hated about yourself, how you found lying as your first nature, not your second. you lied to people when they'd ask you if you were doing okay, if your day was going alright–you always gave them the answers they want to hear, that you were fine, that nothing was wrong.

but when everything just comes crumbling down, and the cracks in your facade begin to show and become more obvious... you get more and more defensive, more and more angry, more and more... scared and worried about these feelings that are hurling themselves at you so quickly that you can't even begin to understand why they're affecting you so badly–why people can see the bare you now if you just turn your face to look at them or open your mouth to speak; and your boyfriend was the first person to see you this way, vulnerable, yet trying all you can to avoid that vulnerability while you're crumbling down.

"hey," miles calls out to you in a soft voice as he sees your back turned to him as you kept working on your assignments, hunched over at your desk with your brows furrowed together and your lips curved into a scowl. you had been avoiding him for a few days now–at least he thinks you might be avoiding him–and have acted very distant, very... out of it recently. you didn't turn your head around to face him, which prompted him to continue talking, hopefully so you could find a reason to face him and his worried eyes. "you've, um... you've been busy lately." "uh-huh." you hummed as you tapped the end of your pencil against your desk impatiently, racking your brain for the answer to the questions written down that all seemed to blur together as the shittiness of the previous days just irritated you even more, and the worst part was... you couldn't hide the fact you can't mask ot anymore.

miles' face contorted as he got more and more worried about you, not knowing why you were acting starkly different than the usual you, or the only you he was familiar with. he extended his hand out to you as he walked over, looking at your cluttered up papers on your desk and the smudged up marks on the paper from your erasures. "...is something wr–" "everything's fine, i'm fine, i'm just peachy!" "you don't sound very convincing." he said, his voice returning to his nonchalant, cool tone as he took a small glimpse at your face before you turned away from his field of vision.

he sat in the chair next to you and wrapped his arm around you in an effort to comfort you. "cielo, sonething's up with you. are you... are you sure you don't wanna let me help?" he asked you with a soft voice, hoping he didn't overstep any boundaries as you slowly turned your head to show him a bit of your face. there were tears in your eyes, though you didn't dare let miles see them fall down your face; there was a sob stuck in your throat, but you didn't dare let miles hear it escape your lips. you had been there before, being severely troubled for more things than just homework–but never had you been advised to do anything than the age old phrases you've heard all your life as a kid: 'get over it.'

you took in a deep breath and tried to tell him what those words you've exhausted yourself from saying all the damn time–that you don't need any help, that you've got this, that you're okay... but your body's betraying you right now. it's betraying you for turning your back on your own feelings, but that... was never your fault, never. as you let out the breath you've been holding in, the hot tears came streaking down the ends of your eyes, your scowl morphing into a sad frown as you felt yourself slowly come undone and all the raging thoughts in your mind boiled down into one thought right then and there: 'fuck no, i am far from okay'.

you had one tear come down, then two, then... a whole waterfall of tears came pouring down your eyes as you finally released that sob you had been desperately keeping in. you had released it out into the air as it mingled with miles' shushing and gentle whispers as he held you while you leaned against him, wailing as you tried telling him how nothing had been right lately. you choked out in broken cries how you desperately wanted a way out of everything horrible that's been happening but you didn't want anyone else to be bothered by your 'stupid, insignificant problems'.

"i just... want to be okay... but i can't even pretend to be okay for at least one damn day." "please, stop pretending, mi vida. it's hurting me how you... how you think it's strength to rake up everything by yourself... when you clearly need help." miles said with a cracked voice as he felt himself choke up at your melancholic state. you cried even more out of guilt that you saddened miles, but he kissed your forehead, cheek–your whole face as he murmured words of reassurance, of love, to you to calm you down and comfort you. "you're not alone, not anymore... i don't care if some idiots in your life want you to deal with alone, never to bother them–you're never a bother to me, got that?" he mutters to you as he holds you close, letting you sob into his shoulder, your sobs getting louder and louder all the while. he shushes you and rubs your back gently, kissing your wet cheeks as he keeps reminding you that no matter what you're going through, what problems you're having, he's always going to be there for you–be the help you'll need, one way or another.

"please, don't be scared, mi vida... you can be honest with me. i promised to love you with all my heart, protect you, and... always be the help you'll need."

he whispered to you as he looked into your eyes and gently wiped your tears away and leaned his forehead against yours, hoping you would be more lenient, more understanding towards yourself and your own needs; and that you wouldn't hesitate to ask him for help. because even if you don't ask him to, he'll be there to help you, be there to guide you, be there to comfort you the best he can. because he loves you, and knows you deserve more than what you think you deserve, that you deserve... the best of the best, and nothing less.

tags !! @ii01vq @luvstarrstruck @maxoloqy @k4tsu3 @solecitoszn @toneystank-3000 @fiannee @popeheywardssecretgf @lovefrominaya @onginlove @meowmoraless @q2ie @zalayni @anikaluv @conitagray

[bookishdaze]

Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes Review. More like Rambling and Word Vomiting.

I saw it last night. Finally. After so long!

I personally thought it was good, and a solid addition to the POTA franchise. I don't think it's better than Dawn or War, but I'm willing to bet that by the time the full trilogy is out, Kingdom is gonna be looked back upon as a good beginning to Noa and Mae's story, the same way Rise, despite being most people's least favorite of the Caesar trilogy, is still an amazing intro to Caesar's story.

Some nitpicks. Despite the movie being 2.5 hours long, I felt like the final act came too fast? Like, I understand what people meant with the pacing issue. Suddenly we were in the 3rd act and I was like "Wait, we're here? It's done?"

Now, onto the characters! Let the fangirling commence!

Noa

I loved seeing how his journey and character started and where he ends by the end of the movie.

Him going from "That is the law" to "That is the law. But the law is wrong" was so satisfying.

And him being able to call the eagles to him by the end was great to see. By the way, THE SINGING SCENE WITH THE EAGLES???? LIKE???? It could've been so corny but I LOVED IT???

I'm so glad this movie answered the question of whether apes can sing. Yeah, I know they are only humming, but I'LL TAKE IT. APES CAN SING. YESSSS!

He was just a really nice character to follow. I can't wait to see how he'll be like in the next movie after the events of this one transformed him.

I also think he is the kind of protagonist we need after Caesar. I love Caesar, but Noa is....hmm, I guess you could say softer? More naive? I'm sure he'll get tougher as the movies progress like Caesar did, but I like this change.

Mae

I am a Mae defender. Yes, she did betray Noa in the end. I expected her to tbh. And I understand why she did it. She was right in that Proximus getting his hands on those weapons would've been disastrous.

She has probably been taught all her life nothing but bad things about the apes. She was not going to switch sides just because she met Noa. We still got two whole movies after this. She probably won't have her "redemption" until the 3rd movie. I can honestly go on rambling about her, but I'd rather save that for another separate post.

Raka

I really like him. He's great and funny. I love seeing how he talks about humans and his hopes for humans and apes.

Right before he dies, he reminds Noa "Together, strong." His final words and his necklace as a gift to Noa serve as a reminder. A reminder of a hopeful future where apes and humans can coexist. (And then Noa passing along that same necklace to Mae? Bringing a reminder of that hope for peace into her world? Ugh. So good.)

Also, "He was my village." LIKE. DID HE LOSE HIS PARTNER? MY HEART.

Proximus

I thought he was cool. He gave my mother and I a jump scare at the dinner scene where he slams his fist. Also, the way he was just in awe of the gun after Lightning dies. He has his priorities.

Soona and Anaya

Those two were so cute, and I loved their friendship with Noa.

Anaya broke my heart. In the beginning at the tunnel scene, he's all like "Anaya is not scared." But at Proximus's kingdom, he looks terrified at the dinner scene, and before he goes on the mission to climb the wall, he goes "Anaya is scared" and didn't want to go. Poor guy. He pulled through in the end though.

Although *puts on tinfoil hat* this makes me wonder if this foreshadows how his fear will lead him to make a big mistake in the future movies. Similar to what happened with Winter.

Soona was so sweet. Although I'm disappointed we didn't get more of her with Noa. I saw an interview where Soona's actress described a moment where after they are reunited, they kind of make known their feelings for each other or something like that. But...it didn't happen?

Mae and Noa

Alrighty, I'm gonna briefly put on my shipping goggles on, bear with me, because one has to be a teensy bit delusional for this type of stuff, BUT....

I sensed a....vibe? Not a romantic vibe. They are nowhere close to that yet. But I felt like there were tropes and scenes between them that simply imply a romantic path is a possible direction for their relationship. I will make a separate post about them. I wanna wrap this up, lol.

The ending

I liked the ending. It has me so excited for the future of this trilogy. Now that the humans are able to communicate with others, what will this mean? How will Mae be torn between her people and the apes? Same with Noa? I need to know naooooo

8.5/10 stars (I ain't done rambling about this movie yet. But it's my birthday, and I gotta go out and have some dinner, hehe).

[atimeofyourlife]

We can share our pain

day 15 | rated: g | wc: 685 | prompts: CHILDHOOD TRAUMA | Painful Hug | Moment of Clarity | "I did good, right?" | ao3 Buck and Tommy talk about their childhood traumas over dinner.

"Even though everything is getting better with my parents, I still feeling like I'm performing for them every time they're in town. Like I have to be this perfect version of myself for them." Buck sighed. "Sorry, childhood trauma isn't the best dinner conversation."

"We all have it, Evan." Tommy replied, resting his hand over Bucks. "I want to know everything about you. The good, the bad, the ugly. So you share yours and I'll share mine?"

"Uh. Yeah." Buck took a moment to figure out where to start. "I had a brother. Daniel."

"I didn't know that." Tommy replied. "I thought it was just you and Maddie."

"I didn't know about him until I was twenty nine, when Maddie was pregnant with Jee. He died when I was a baby, juvenile leukemia. He was eight."

"Evan, that's awful. Did he get sick after you were born, or was it an unexpected pregnancy?"

"Neither. I was planned. Meticulously planned. He was diagnosed when he was four. He didn't respond well to treatment. Mom, dad, and Maddie weren't a match for a bone marrow transplant. So they made one. Me. But it didn't take, and he died a year after I was born." Buck explained.

"And they never told you? They just pretended he never existed?" Tommy asked.

"Pretty much. They buried themselves in their grief. They packed up everything and moved us to a different town. Got rid of everything belonging to him, got rid of or hid all the photos. I would have never known if I hadn't found the photo in Maddie's baby box. I thought it was me, but I didn't recognize the house. So I turned it over and on the back it was dated '88. Four years before I was born."

"And Maddie never told you?"

"No. She said she'd wanted to. But she told Chimney before she told me. She was put in a bad position by our parents, I get that. But that was something I should have known. It would have been useful for when I tried to join the SEALs and when I applied for the LAFD."

"That's insane."

"I have a better relationship with them now. When I was a kid I felt like I only had their attention if I was hurt or had done something wrong. Now, we have an okay, but slightly distant relationship. The first time we felt like a real close family was when they visited after Maddie and Chimney brought the house. Chim's brother, Albert, showed up with their dad. They defended me fiercely against Chim's dad when it came up about me being a sperm donor. And like two days later I got struck by lightning." Buck took a drink of his wine. "What about you?"

"Nothing quite as crazy as yours." Tommy said with a smile. "You were born to save a person. I was born to save a marriage. My parents, I don't think they ever loved each other. But they were both from very traditional families. Divorce would not have looked good, and it was starting to cause whispers that they'd been married for years with no kids. So they had me. Gave them someone to direct their anger at rather than each other."

"I'm sorry to hear that. There's some people that just shouldn't have kids."

"They are the prime example." Tommy let out a humorless laugh. "When I got older they would blame each other for what they didn't like about me. He would tell me I was too much like my mom. She would tell me I was too much like my dad. I grew up feeling like I was made up of the worst of the both of them."

"I guess that makes me feel lucky that I at least had Maddie."

"Mmmh. For a long time it made me think that I didn't want kids. Didn't want to pass on this generational trauma." Tommy snorted. "But now I'm less sure. Kids are a maybe, if we do have them, all I want to do is be better than my parents."

[kumimi3]

can i request a fic where gun goes to a club/bar w very very VEERY shy S/O who gets all red at the slightest touch ^^ u can add nsfw too if u want love your works

❪ LOOKISM BOYS<33 ❫ ❮   bunny darling ⟡ I'm deeply sorry for making you wait for so long anon!!! I didn't have enough time to answer this(It didn't help that ive only seen this last week) Please forgive me love :(( ↳ 

notes: suggestive nsfw at the end(wont turn into full smut thought)

Gun does not care much for interactions, if it was for him, he would've completely left the club and be with you for the rest of the night, but he couldn't--All thanks to that stupid, piss-haired man

Although, it was a good thing you were here with him, but if anything, he wondered why you agreed to come with him to a club when you're just so shy?

"You didn't have to come just because of me. You know that clubs like this are often than not, dangerous... Right, bunny?"

Bunny... It was a cute nickname he called you most of the time, it was simple and definitely a relation to your shyness that has him reminded of a bunny

"W-Well... I didn't want you to leave so early" You muttered in embarrassment, "And, well--Uhm... I've always been curious what a club is like."

Gun hummed at your explanation before holding your waist, pressing a soft kiss on your head before guiding you inside the wild yet luxurious club

"Always so thoughtful... Just stick close to me and you'll be fine. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I do."

"Attagirl."

It was a good thing the club was more catered to the rich people rather than your typical club, it was more... Tolerable, quite good enough for your first time, Gun thinks.

The moment you entered, you held the hem of Gun's lavish suit when you see everyone look at you in either lust or in awe. No one came blame each other, you were very mesmerizing to look at

"They're looking at me... Gun, is there something wrong? Please, please, I don't think I can handle this--"

"Nothing's wrong, Y/n. Believe me, if one of them were looking at you weirdly, I'd kill them."

You gulped at the amount of stared you were getting, but it changed the moment you feel Gun's hand covering your eyes, feeling him guide you by the waist as he walked towards a more silent area

Gun heard all of the whispered compliments they gave you and he can't help but smirk in pride. You're the woman he loves and takes pride in, his trophy, of course they should think that way.

The moment you entered the circled seat, you yelped and blushed deeply the moment Gun has you seated on his lap, facing him. With widened eyes, you whimpered in embarrassment before covering your face with your hands.

The sight was adorable to Gun, even after all the time he placed on you on his lap, he couldn't help but love the reaction you give him.

"But there's so many seats available, w-why on your lap... Gun! This is so embarrassing, what if someone sees--"

"Isn't my lap more comfortable? Didn't know my girl was so picky when choosing where to place her butt on. Is the couch more better than me?"

The more he continued to speak, the more you blushed so deeply your whole face was going red. You didn't see his teasing eyes when you hid your face on his chest, accepting his lap hesitatingly as you tried to find a more comfy way to sit.

Too bad, it caught Gun's attention as the more you moved, the more he felt yourself rubbing close to his, well... Thing

"Oi, what do you think you're doing?"

"Just t-trying to sit more comfortably, a-am I moving too much? I'm sorry, I--"

It dawned you too late once you felt something protruding through your entrance as you stayed silent in shock while Gun merely looked at with a sudden change in his eyes--A more beast-like kind.

"G-Gun..."

Hoping to at least ease the situation, you were about to stand up before he held your waist and made you sit on top of his hardening cock through his pants

"Close the curtains."

You knew he shouldn't be questioned when he's being like this, so you obediently close the dark curtains, blocking the both of you from any of the people outside

If you two were truly to do sex right now(which will, actually) you just hoped nobody would know, please, please, just dont. Your thoughts were cut the moment you squeaked in surprise at the touch of Gun's lips on yours.

Holding on to his shoulder for balance, his hand was placed on the back of your head before kissing more deeply, bucking his hips to satisfy himself, it'll only take a few more whimpers from you until he'll finally lose it and fuck you like an animal

"No matter how many times I sit you on my lap, you never seem to know that if you move too much, you'll get fucked. You never learn, do you?"

[cherryxcadbury]

When the Alcohol Kicks In

context: context: you get drunk one night, and you and Jude start arguing

2nd person POV

Getting drunk was a rare occurrence for you. One, you didn't drink very often, you had too much to worry about. Two, you had a very high alcohol tolerance. Five shots didn't phase you in the slightest. 

However, on the rare occasions in which you did get drunk, it was bad.

You never intended to get as drunk as you did. By the time you left the house, you and your boyfriend Jude had gotten into a bit of a squabble. You had intentions of going out with your somewhat large group of friends, consisting of both males and females. That wasn't what Jude was worried about.

There was a certain someone in the group, Lewis, an acquaintance of yours that Jude didn't like.

"He's so clearly into you Y/N!" Jude had said before you left the house.

"Don't be ridiculous Jude, I hardly talk to him." You scoffed.

It was true. Out of all the people in your group, Lewis was the one you spoke to the least. You guys had gone to the same secondary school, but you barely knew each other. Let alone, be familiar enough with each other that he'd actually like you. 

"I'm telling you Y/N, just watch!" Jude warned you.

"If you're so concerned just come Jude!" You shouted back at him.

Jude sighed, "You know exactly why I can't! The club would kill me."

You rolled your eyes. The man cared more about his club than you. Maybe you were over exaggerating a bit, but you didn't care.

***

The lot of you were at Suhana's place, dancing and drinking. It wasn't a party exactly, but a gathering of "close friends". 

You were dancing with your two best friends, Tilly and Elijah. From any onlooker, it was more like bouncing around wildly. You were tipsy at this point, and that's where you'd stand. Elijah and Tilly left to grab more snacks from the kitchen while you continued bouncing around in your spot. You were very much an ambivert. Introverted to most but really quite social and extroverted with your friends.

You were enjoying just hopping around to the beat of the music when you felt someone's hands on both of your hips. You immediately turned and smacked both hands off.

You looked around to see if anyone had seen, you could only see someone having fallen asleep on the couch. Everyone else had been in the kitchen eating. 

"What is wrong with you!" You hissed, stepping very far away from him. 

Lewis shot you a lazy smirk. A disgusting one at that. 

"Aw come on, Bellingham's not even here." He slurred, you could smell the alcohol in his breath.

He stepped closer to you, trying to touch your face and kiss you.

This time, you slapped him hard, and shoved him before shrieking.

"I hope you never see the light of day!" You spit, before the rest of your friends came running.

"What's happened?" Tilly frantically questioned.

"She slapped me!" Lewis defended himself, pointing fingers at you.

"He touched me and tried to kiss me!" You shouted in defense of yourself.

Lewis just smiled lazily again. Tilly, Suhana, and the others bolted in Lewis's direction to physically assault him. Elijah stopped them from getting too chaotic and kicked Lewis out. Everyone else then turned to you, who was leaning against the wall with your arms crossed in front of your chest. You were staring down at the ground, tears slowly escaping your eyes.

Jude was right. He was 100% right. And you had just ignored him and scoffed due to a silly little fight.

"You okay love?" Tilly asked, putting an arm around you.

You wiped your tears off before nodding.

"You want me to take you and Tilly home?" Elijah offered.

You shook your head.

"I just want a drink. Something strong." You requested, this was a mistake on your part.

The reason many people thought you had such good alcohol tolerance was because you stayed away from the strong stuff. Realistically, you were a lightweight.

"I have tequila." Suhana offered.

You nodded, following her for the glass.

***

Two hours later and many missed calls from Jude. Elijah and Tilly were walking you home, you were drunk out of your mind. They'd never seen you in such a state.

"This must've been her first time drinking tequila." Tilly whispered to Elijah as they helped you up to your flat.

"I always thought Y/N had a high tolerance." Elijah responded.

"Stop acting like I'm not here! I do have a high tolerance, I'm not a lightweight!" You protested.

"Calm down Y/N. It's been a long night. You just need some sleep." Tilly tried to soothe you.

The three of you stopped abruptly once you got to your flat door. Your friends turned to you for keys. You somehow managed to grab them out of your bag and began fumbling with them. Before you could even get it into the lock, the door swung open. There was Jude, stationed by the door with a relieved look on his face.

As it turned out, when you hadn't picked up your phone, he called the others and finally got a response from Suhana who said you were on your way home. Normally, he would've been asleep two hours earlier, but he stayed up, waiting for you to come home.

You walked in, avoiding eye contact, heading straight for the couch while Jude said his hellos and goodbyes to Elijah and Tilly.

"What the hell? You didn't pick up your phone! Do you know how worried I was! What the fuck is with you!" Jude gritted through his teeth.

All you wanted to do was run to him and cry in his arms about your crappy night, but you were too stubborn for that.

"I'm sorry! It was a long night, I must've forgotten or something!" You mumbled.

Jude's face began to soften as he heard the tremble in your voice. 

But then he smelled the alcohol on your breath, that was enough to forget about the softness in your voice.

"Are you fucking kidding me. You're bloody drunk. That's why you did not pick up your phone." Jude shouted.

This was where you drew the line.

"I'm not drunk so shut the fuck up. I honestly can't with you! Stop acting like you own me!" You yelled at him, slamming the door as you made your way into the bathroom which was connected to yours and Jude's room.

You looked in the mirror and sighed at the reflection. You didn't wear makeup so it wasn't a terrible sight to behold. But, there was mascara running down your face. Your hair looked a little crazy, and you looked like a shell of your usual self.

Note to self, stay away from hard alcohol.

You pealed your clothes off, and got into the shower. Letting the hot water consume all of the negative thoughts. Once you were finished, you came out a new person, like your normal self. You wrapped your wet hair in a towel and left the bathroom to see Jude still up, scrolling on his phone.

He would never go to sleep without knowing you were safe.

You climbed in bed next to him, scooting close to him to hug him from his sides.

"I'm sorry." You said, burying your head in his neck.

He moved closer to you and kissed your forehead.

"I love you." He mumbled to you.

That brought a smile to your face, "I love you too, so much."

Jude grinned at you, coyly.

"So. What did happen?" Jude asked you with concern on his face.

You sighed, "You can't say I told you so." 

Jude's smile immediately darkened. His face grew very easy.

"It was that son of a bitch wasn't it? I swear to god, I'll show him. The nerve he has, trying something on my girlfriend." Jude began muttering under his breath.

He sprang out of bed, getting a winter coat and shoes on. It was very clearly he was about to hunt Lewis down and very likely punch him senselessly.

Before he could get himself arrested, you grabbed Jude, slowly beckoning him to come back to bed. 

"Please." You begged him, looking up at him with big emotional eyes.

Who was Jude to say no to that?

Jude sighed in defeat as a smile found its way on your face. You both went back to bed, you snuggled into his side, him with his arm wrapped around your body. 

"We'll both go beat him up tomorrow, when we're well rested and have stronger punches." You smirked at Jude.

"That's my girl." Jude grinned before kissing you again.

it feels nice to be writing again

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

So I saw that you're writing for Marvel now. I was thinking about jealousy. Specifically Bucky being ✨Jealous✨. Like the reader is just chatting away with someone about this guy she likes (bucky) but she knows he doesnt like her back (he soooo does) and (everyone else can see it too) so he gets hella jealous and finally just snaps. And kisses her like he is gonna die if he doesnt. The kind of kiss that makes you forget everything else in the world kiss.

Anywayyyyyyysssss

LYSM❤️ 

Author note: The "bad guy" of this story is named Luke so I'm sorry if you are Luke or you're friends with a Luke.

Triggers: Nothing? I think it's just fluff, a little of Bucky angst but nothing bad!

Bucky didn't mean to eavesdrop, he swears! All he wanted to do was get more tea!

But....when he heard your voice, your giggle, maybe just maybe he stayed hidden on purpose.

Who is making her giggle so much?? He wondered feeling emotions he hasn't felt in a while. Anger, confusion, insecure.

He overhears a few things that makes his ears ring.

"He's just so sweet you know? Like he is always trying to be there for me and he's so pretty! Like those eyes!" You playfully groan, "He's just perfect." Bucky stops listening after those few sentences passed your lips. Who is she talking about? Who is there for her, I thought I was that person... He goes back to his room with his empty mug and decides to spend the rest of the morning pouting in his room.

Bucky was dreading tonight.

Why the hell did he promise Sam that he would go to this party??? He knew you were going to be there, my god what if that "perfect" guy was going to be there with her? Is he going to have to deal with you be hanging all over this mystery guy? As his mind races with the idea of you being with someone else it begins to wander away with the idea of you. What will you being wearing? Will your hair be down or up? If it's down it usually means you were struggling more today than usual, does that "perfect" guy know that? "fucking doubt it" He grumbles as he walks out the door.

Sam is over this damn attitude Bucky has been giving out today. "What the hell is wrong with you tonight?" Sam asked fed up, "I know this isn't like your thing but you were improving on at least fixing your face when you're in a mood. I think if you glare at that guy anymore he will drop dead, go over and talk to her, get your girl or leave them be and fix your face." All he got in response was an eye roll.

Bucky had enough. Who the hell does this guy think he is! Your attention has been on this 'Luke' guy all night. Bucky hasn't been able to get you alone for at least a conversation for hours now and he was done. Finishing his drink he leaves the table and goes over to you, walking with a purpose. He doesn't notice the way your eyes light up and how a smile graces your face when you see him coming your way but he does notice how you seem to giggle and lean into Luke to whisper something to him and he certainly noticed Luke rubbing your arm before walking away.

"Bucky! I've been wanting to talk to you abo-" You get cut off by his lips pressing against yours with a passion. You gasps slightly, completely caught off guard. Sure people were saying Bucky was into you but you didn't really believe it. The two of you pull away slowly, wanting to stay in your own little world. Bucky smile softly, feeling a sense of relief from feeling you so close to him, but that was quickly overshadowed by a sense of fear washing over him. What if you weren't into him like that? What if he overstepped? What if he just ruined your relationship? What if Luke wanted to kick his ass now?...well I could totally take Luke.

"I-I um I know I didn't, I should've asked before kissing you but you don't understand how awful it has been watching you with that guy..." he trailed off feeling embarrassed by his previous actions. "I think I should probably just get going" he announced before he is stopped by your hands softly gracing his face. When he got the nerve to look back up at you it was his turn to gasp against your lips as you kiss him with a passion.

Who would've thought everyone was right when they said you guys were into each other. Bucky definitely wishes he listened sooner if it meant he got to feel your lips against his.

I hope you loved! I loved writing it! I'm finally getting back into the groove with writing so if you have any request I would love to try and write it for you! I do fluff, I'm trying my hand out in smut and angst too

[vi-trying-to-survive]

We Can Share

Anthony Lockwood x f!Reader

Warnings: None this pretty much fluff only :) 💖💖💖

Summary: Lockwood and Y/N have to stay overnight in a hotel for a case, which is not the biggest problem until the room only has one bed

A/N: I hope you guys like it :) 💖💖💖 I wasn't sure how to feel about it and it is a little cliche but I couldn't get it out of my mind also :') 💖💖💖 Also sorry if updates are slow :') 💖💖💖 Hope you have a great day :) 💖💖💖

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"So you're telling me they didn't have a cheaper room", she frowned, chasing after him.

He didn't look back, crumpling the receipt into his pocket, "Yes".

The straps of her bag weighed down on her shoulders, pulling her down close to the ground, as they walked up yet another flight of stairs. Her feet ached. If this hotel was so brilliant why were all the elevators broken ? It was probably because the location of their next job was far out of London, next to the middle of nowhere. She probably should have seen it coming when the train station was just a misshapen shack that was barely standing. George and Lucy had rather conveniently decided to sit this one out, something about providing assistance remotely. She rolled her eyes.

"Remind me again why we took this case", she groaned, finally catching up to him.

He chuckled, shaking his head, "They are paying us highly for our services".

"Mmhm", she closed her eyes, leaning against the wall. Money. It was the denominator of every fraction in their lives. She longed for a time when they wouldn’t be so dependent on it, to the point where they put their lives on the line just for it. It was a harsh reality, one they were used to, but if anything she could at least thank it for the people that had come into her life, for him.

"Oh come on it's not that bad", he grinned widely, readjusting the bag on his shoulder before handing her a dull looking iron key.

She gave him a pointed look, “That's what you always say"

"But is it ever a lie", he raised a brow. She couldn’t help but smile. It was never awful, not even subpar, not if she was with him. He just knew all the right buttons to press with her, granted he also knew the wrong ones but it didn’t happen often enough to be a concern. He was reckless and overconfident, but he was also sweet and funny. It was hard for her to not have a good time when they were together.

"No, but I am allowed to miss the comfort of home", she grinned. She twisted the key through the lock, swinging the door open.

"Well, you'll be there soon enough", he laughed.

"Oh", her smile faltered. The room itself was relatively normal, no expensive sheets or fantastic views. It was clean and tidy, the covers folded in neatly under the mattress. The only problem was that there was only one bed. She thought this only happened in books, but the universe decided to prove her wrong this one time and of course it had to be with him. She chewed her thumbnail. It was already too late for them to request another room. She wondered what to say. Who would even know what to say ? No one, because no one ever ends up in these kinds of situations, except her apparently.

"Right, this is fine, you take the bed, I'll take the floor", he dumped the bags haphazardly at the foot of the bed. He was already gathering some pillows off the bed.

She felt a twinge of sympathy and maybe something more. Call it a careless decision. In the moment she felt brave, or maybe she was just desperate, she wasn’t sure. Yet she was aware of the consequences, even as the words spilled out, “Don't be ridiculous, we can share".

"I- Only if you're alright with it", he was surprised. She couldn’t tell if it was a good or bad one. If she was being honest she was surprised too. It would have been easier to let him stay on the floor, kept a solid barrier between them. What had she gotten herself into ?

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It was dark when all the lights were turned out. Fortunately, she was quite accustomed to the dark. It didn't scare her. What scared her was the fact that she was lying in a bed with a boy next to her, a boy that she hasn't been able to stop thinking about for the past 6 months. It was not the most ideal situation, but she figured they'd been stuck in more compromising positions. Yet, her heart was still pounding like she'd run a marathon and she was working a little too hard to keep her breathing quiet. They had always been close, even from when she had first joined the agency. She had always summed it up to them being a good team. That was until it developed into something more elaborate. When had things changed ? When had they become complicated ?

"Are you comfortable ?", he turned towards her, whispering.

"Very", she hoped she sounded confident. Her hands were clasped together tightly over her chest as she stared at the ceiling. She refused to look at him. She just might explode from anticipation alone.

"You're practically falling off the mattress", he scoffed. So maybe she had forced herself to be at as close to the edge as she could without falling off. It was only to put a respectable amount of distance between them, so she could manage the night with some semblance of relaxation. She had been hoping that he would be ignorant enough for her plan to work, but he seemed to be the exact opposite. She sighed. This was going to be one of those long nights.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, "Come on".

"No I-", she pressed her lips together. Her body went rigid as he tugged her closer to the middle of the bed, closer to him. She felt overtly self-conscious, choosing to concentrate on breathing in and out, instead of the fact that her back was pressed tightly against his chest. It was a more difficult task than what she had anticipated, especially when the warmth from his body spread to her. Her confidence faltered, and she felt herself relax into him, “This is nice, actually".

"Surprising isn't it ?", his tone was sarcastic, but his hand still rested comfortably over hers.

She was confused to say the least. They were always close, but sharing near-death experiences could do that to a person. Still, the last few months had been different. His touch would linger a little longer before he pulled away hurriedly. She would feel his stare in a crowded room, but he never met her eyes. Maybe it would have been simpler if she had been more forward with him, but she hadn't, and it put her in a vulnerable position. She could have gone to sleep, but she didn't, "Lockwood ?".

"Yes ?", his hot breath left the hairs on the back her neck standing.

She pushed herself to sit up, "I can't keep doing this".

"Doing what ?", he mimicked her position. His brows were furrowed and he sounded unconvinced.

"This", she groaned, throwing her head onto her knees. Why was this so hard for him to understand ? Why was it so hard for her to tell him ? Why wouldn't her heart stop pounding ?

She took a breath in, "We always act like a couple but somehow we're just friends, I just- I need- I-". He watched her closely, eyes dropping to her lips, before pressing his against them. He tasted faintly of honey and tea. She was quick to respond, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and tugging him closer to her. Her racing heart finally seemed to slow. She felt relieved and desperate all at once. She hoped he felt the same too, and to some extent he must be, seeing as he was kissing her like she might disappear if he didn't.

"Was that a good enough answer for you ?", he chuckled, pulling away.

She was breathless, but stood by a nonchalant facade, "Well you didn't really say anything".

"What? I was trying to make a romantic gesture?", he pressed his lips together, falling back onto the bed. The springs creaked under the sudden weight.

She giggled, smoothing his hair and patting down the stray strands that were sticking out, “Just kidding".

She lay down on the bed, settling into his side. She wondered if this was just a dream, and that she would eventually wake to a version of him that was unaware. The thought alone made her eyes grow wide. Well, it wouldn't hurt to check she thought. She poked him harshly in the side, "Just so you know, I really like you".

He only grinned, "Thanks, I really like me too".

She hit him across the chest, "I hate you". Only Anthony Lockwood could be that big-headed. At least she could be sure that this was reality. Where he had gotten his ego, she would never know, but at least she could go to sleep in peace.

"Don't worry I really like you too", he laughed, softly pressing a kiss against her temple. Though, she thought, when he wanted to, he could also be sweet.