#and red falls for his bullshit sob stories every single time

[effervescentdragon]

the funniest thing in blacklist us how the only person who absolutely unsettles reddington and makes him a bit insane in bewilderment is glen

[your-girl-mj]

The Truth prt 2.1 [42!Miles Morales x Spiderwoman!reader]

summary: ending chosen: you told him the truth.

warning: few curses(?)

note: written in 3rd point of view, she/her for reader, he/him for miles.

created: july 26, 2023

published: july 27, 2023.

main story | other ending.

— Ending chosen:

tell him the truth

lie for his safety

"¡ay bendito!" he shouted, his hands almost pulling his braids out as he ran his hand on his head. "enough with your bullshit excuses! if it's not true, then what is the truth? tell me." he demanded, infuriated.

"why are you being so difficult?!" [name]'s legs finally gave up, squating down on the floor. physically and mentally exhausted. her hands are pressed on her ears as tears start to flood her lids, unable to control it as she is tired from everything. everything is too much for her right now. too much screaming.

miles sighed, rubbing his nape and looking down at his love. he matched her current height, sitting down in front, he opened his arms. as much as his anger is unbearable, his love for her is much more.

slowly but surely, she crawled her way to him and hugged him dearly. "I would never.." she continued to cry, "i love you... and only you." she sobbed, burying her head in his neck.

"i know." he answered, caressing her shoulder with a sad smile. he regrets what he said. he hates it. he hates every single thing he says, but what can he do? his anxiety is kicking in.

"then why would you say that?!" her voice is wobbly, but the anger is present. she's glaring hard at him. she pulled away from him, but he's still close by.

"because i know when you lie." he said firmly, his head soon drop as he sighed for the nth time for the last hour. "[name], we've been friends for six years and been dating for two years. i know you like the back of my hand."

"if you know me, then you'll know I'll never cheat." the girl's lips are formed into a straight line as her brows frown. the corner of her eyes, as well as nose, are flushed with red from crying.

"i know.. lo sé, mi vida. lo siento.. lo siento." enveloping both of her hands in his, he kissed her knuckles, one by one. "i was losing my mind at that time... please." [i know, my life. I'm sorry.. I'm sorry.]

she enjoyed every single one of his little peaks, "miles... i can't really tell you.."

his palm made contact with her cheek, thumb sweetly catching the liquid droplets. "we tell each other everything, why is this any different?"

her lips are trembling as she tries to hold a sob. "miles..." shaking her head no, she doesn't want to risk it. she loves him too much.

"cariño, por favor.." he kissed her. they both close their eyes in the process. [name] let out a little cry in his mouth before they pulled away. "you know you can tell me anything." [darling, please..]

"i'm just... so scared." she whispered, more tears to fall as the images of miles in her arms because she told him. she knows he's willing to sacrifice everything for her, and she knows he's willing to risk his life for her. just like she does for him every single day. "i can't lose you..."

"no me perderás, hermosa." he kisses her temple before pulling her into an embrace. his mind can't find any situation that will make you break up with him. "i won't let you go, i love you too much." [you won't lose me, beautiful.]

frustrated sigh left her lips as she shook her head. "you don't understand.." She clenched his shirt, his shoulder soaked with her tears from earlier. her face is now dry, as she started to get back to her senses bit by bit. she hates how she can't explain the whole thing.

"then let me understand." he kisses her forehead, holding her close. the guy was met with silence, clicking his tongue, and he rested his head on hers. "amor, sabes que odio pelear contigo... ¿cuál es el propósito de estar juntos cuando no tenemos confianza? ¿eh?" his accent is always calming to you, especially when he talks like this, caressing your shoulder as he speaks. [love, you know I hate fighting with you... what's the point of being together when we don't have trust? hm?]

[name] looked at him with uncertainties, she's hesitating. she's hesitating too much, and he can see it. "take your time. te amo, mamí." he kissed her again. [i love you, mami]

she couldn't help but melt at the old nickname, "yo tambien te amo, papí." miles smiled. he loves that nickname. [i love you too, papi]

it has been a little too over 3 minutes, that miles thought she'll never confess to him about the truth. before she opened her mouth, but words were left on her throat. [name] felt like a fool. she's been gathering up her courage, but she can't utter two simple words. she mouthed one, yet mute. "i'm.."

"you're...?" miles encouraged. she is still having a hard time confessing, and she hates how stupid she looks. "oh shit, don't tell me you're the prowler?" he teased, fully knowing [name] knows he and his unlce aaron are the prowler.

she lightly hit him, scoffing, "it's quite the opposite, actually." she beamed at him, the pressure on telling him is suddenly liften up.

"oh fuck, you're kingpin?!" he made a fake shock expression, a little too exaggerated in her opinion. it kinda reminds her how he was before his dad died.

"shut up," she nudged him, and the two fell into a fit of small laughs. the tension is lifting up by the second they spend together. she took a sharp exhale befire uttering: "i'm spiderwoman." her gaze was quick for his reaction.

but he stared at her blankly, "did mom put you up to this comic-con thing?" he rubbed his face. it's a little too early for something like this.

"what? no, miles—" [name] swiftly took of her (miles') jacket, revealing him fully her suit underneath. but he already stood up, making his way to the kitchen with his girl on his tail. "— look!" gesturing her suit.

"i'm just gonna get us some water, be right back." she rolled her eyes at his comment. he wanted the truth, she gave him the truth, but the asshole is not believing her. she frustrated, mad even. she finally gathers up the courage to tell him, and he won't even believe her.

she shoot a web on his back with a tiny pwip noise, then harshly pulled him back to her, "oh motherf—" he almost cursed at the sudden move, and his chest collided with hers, though his impact did her not damage when almost his full weight came crashing towards her.

startled by the sticky web, "what the—?!" another pwip was heard, [name] shoot a web to the remote that was near them, and it retrieved it to her.

she then toss it near a wall behind him and shot it with a flick of a wrist. the remote is stuck on the wall with her webs, helping it stick. "holy shit—" miles exclaimed again as he witnessed it, turning around to face his girl but met with clothes on the floor.

miles swiftly looked around and met with his girl's face upside down. "do you believe me now?!" she asked, with a frown, her arms crossed over her chest. she's wearing her suit with her mask off, which explains the clothes on the floor.

he looked up, seeing her standing on the ceiling. she's even tapping her feet, impatient with his answer. her frown stared to turn into a worried one, "what? you're not gonna say anything?" her hair sway in the air, with every strand being pulled by gravity.

she's spiderwoman, alright.

"metal." he utter as he fully take her in, a small beam capture her lips. miles snort a laugh out, mirroring her smile. "does anyone else know about... you being a weirdo?" a tease is present, his smile turned into a smirk when she rolled her eyes.

"you're mean, mr. prowler." [name] poked his forehead repeatedly and only stopped when he sway her hand away. "no one knows. except you, i guess." a cocky grin tug his lips, making her scowl, "oh god—"

"i feel a bit special right now. don't take it away." he peaked her forehead. his cocky attitude is still intact.

"you only know because you technically forced me," [name] shrugged, circling his figure. her feet still stick on the ceiling. "you didn't expect it, huh?"

"i didn't," he confirmed, nodding as he followed her face by spinning around as he spoke. "i'm - i'm impressed. my girl is the heroine of the city." he proudly announced in the quiet apartment. his face soon turned into a gentle frown, "you risk your life every day..."

spiderwoman then sighed, turning away from him, her steps came halt. "miles, no matter what you say, i'm not gonna stop being the -"

"friendly neighbourhood, spiderwoman." he finished for her, "i know, mamí." with a finger, he turned her head to face him, gently caressing her cheek in process. "i'm just worried for you."

"i'll be fine," smiling comfortably, "you know me, i always get up no matter what.." she captured his lips with tip toes, but shooting a web on the ceiling to stable herself. the iconic spider kiss. the two lovers catch their breaths once pulled away, [name] smirked, "i've always wanted to do that."

miles chuckled and shook his head, his braid sway in the motion. "gotta say, mamí, i know why hobo is after my girl."

[name] mask her wince with a giggle, shaking her head. she reached a hand to caress his cheek, and she beamed at the sight of him snuggling for her warmth. "sorry to ruin it, but hobie knew before you." she pursed her lips, biting her the inside of her cheeks as his soft stare formed to shock before it became a frown.

"you little shit," the girl couldn't stop the laugh from coming, when her boyfriend begun to walk away,

"mi corazón~!" she called in a teasing tone, jumping down with a thud she chased after him as he made his way to the kitchen for water. she attacked his back with an embrace, she stuck her feet on the ground, preventing him from moving anymore away from her. "te amo, papí." [my heart~!] [i love you, papi]

miles let out and exaggerated sigh, he peaked behind him, seeing his girlfriend who was smiling innocently at him. "you have destroyed my trust. you may let go of me, peasant."

"milessss!" she let him drag her on the floor. he's being dramatic, and he knows it. he's just being petty. "he's from work, of course he knows!" [name] quickly explained, her hold is still not losing one bit. "he's another spider!"

he took a sharp turn to her way, with a confuse expression, "how many spider-people are there?" the girl only smirks, knowing this is gonna be a looooong morning.

[astranva]

Daffodil

Word Count: 3.1k

Category: Angst

Warning: Some strong language.

Inspired by lines from Lana Del Rey’s excerpt from her poetry book – ‘L.A, Who Am I To Love You?’

“And also I can't sleep without you No one's ever really held me like you Not quite tightly, but certainly I feel your body next to me.”

Daffodils symbolize rebirth and new beginnings.

 It was suffocating.

Oxygen wasn’t always an ally, at least not there and then for Harry. He had changed t-shirts 4 times after each one got soaked with his own sweat, before finally resorting to taking a shower.

His body felt limp, like it was on auto-pilot mode and he wasn’t in control of it, only watching as his legs dragged him to the room he tried to avoid if it was anything of no necessity.

He remembers a time when he loved the full-body mirror that stood in the room. He remembers the amount of pictures that one mirror caught, the amount of kisses it had witnessed. But as he passed, his stomach flipped upside now.

He had been avoiding seeing his face for far too long, could go as far and say that he hadn’t seen himself since it happened, a month ago.

But he caught a glimpse of himself and he couldn’t help but divert all his attention to the reflection that stared back at him. His hair was greasy, red blotches on his cheeks that seemed to mock him for crying too much for his skin’s own liking, puffy eyes, dry lips that reminded him that the alcohol he sipped at wasn’t what his body needed and that it needed water. He looked…pathetically sad.

But he was okay with it, being sad. Of course he was, how couldn’t he?

He looked dull – dead. Harry grimaced at the sight, his heart seeming to break and shatter even more – if possible – at the sight, feeling as if he couldn’t really recognize himself.

He took a shaky breath, tearing his gaze away from the reflection before moving along with the simple task; showering.

He hadn’t bothered taking out clothes prior to stepping inside the bathroom, wanting to just get it over with.

Harry took off his t-shirt and boxers, throwing them in the hamper before his eyes caught sight of it. Her toothbrush.

His mind was loud, screaming at him to keep his hands to himself, to get his shit together and maybe throw the damn brush away but he shut that off, reaching to grab the vibrant green toothbrush with rough bristles, as if confirming the absence of its owner.

“Fuck,” he cursed, feeling his nose itch before he set the toothbrush back in its rightful place, right beside the hair cream she used to use.

It probably didn’t help that he used her minty shampoo and coconut shower gel, mindlessly doing so. He hated how dependent he was on her, even when she wasn’t there but he didn’t know any better and he didn’t want to.

Harry’s shower was quick, as if he was in hurry to get out of the place that held so much of her belongings. The cold water didn’t soothe his muscles either, it only tensed them more, making him shower with a clenched jaw as he struggled to get used to the cold temperature – it was too cold and he fucking hated how it made sense.

It was all too cold.

Without her.

He had dried his body quickly before reaching towards the cabinet underneath the sink to take out the microfiber towel which she had gotten him,

“The material just causes lack of friction, know what that means? Less frizz. It also dries your hair faster than the cotton ones.” She had said as she dried his hair one night after her trip from the grocery store, the pink microfiber in her hand thoroughly drying Harry’s wet hair before she began scrunching some of the long lockets of hair.

He loved the towel.

He loves her.

Walking naked and barefoot, he opened the wardrobe, taking out a pair of shorts and resting them on his shoulder before opening a drawer to take out briefs. Harry contemplated wearing a top at all, but then reached to grab one – the one right on top.

Hers.

His movement halted as he felt the material in his hand, looking at the familiar watermelon-printed t-shirt.

“H!” She ran to him the moment he stepped inside their home, a wide grin on her face as she looked at his amused face. How couldn’t he be? She was standing in a watermelon-printed t-shirt and Toy Story-themed shorts. “Look what I got!”

It was that damn t-shirt and the love they made that night that had him write Watermelon Sugar.

That t-shirt.

His chest seemed to clench around his heart, almost begging him to put the t-shirt away, and that time, he listened and folded the t-shirt and put it behind his pile of t-shirts, nonchalantly grabbing another t-shirt before speeding out of the room to put on his clothes somewhere else.

Harry wasn’t stupid, but at times like these, he really thought he was.

He was stupid enough to think that it was the room he could escape when in fact, she was implemented in every little nook, every cushion – everywhere. Hell, even the coaster he had put his cup of tea on in the morning was one she had gotten.

After putting his clothes on, he walked to the kitchen. Surprisingly, he found his phone on the kitchen table, lit up as it released no sound and he was more amused by the fact that he had forgotten he placed it there.

‘Gem’ the screen had read, showing him a picture of him and his sister from when they were kids.

Harry debated picking up the phone. They all had been checking up on him, almost pleading to visit him but he was set every single time;

“I want to be alone.” He had said, every time.

He knew they were concerned, knew they cared about him but he couldn’t not cringe and grow even more melancholic when he heard the pity in their voices and, worse, he knew that in their minds, they probably called him a few names;

Pathetic.

Coward.

Dick.

He knew they probably liked the state he was in because after all, it was all his fault.

He gulped, taking his phone in his hand before answering, putting the phone on his ear and waiting for his sister to speak first.

“Harry? You here?”

He hummed, “Yeah.” His voice came out hoarse and scratchy, making him clear his throat.

Gemma sighed through the phone and he wasn’t sure what type of sigh was that, but it seemed to be as one of relief. He really needed to assure them more often.

“How are you?”

Harry had begun to hate the question. He didn’t like lying, but how could he reply with the same miserable answer every time? If you wanted an honest answer, he would give you one that went like that:

“Never been worse. I’m sad, I’m hallow. I think I need therapy but I know I need her more. I miss her but I’m a fucking dick.”

But he didn’t settle on that one for Gemma, no. Instead, Harry moved to fill the kettle with water while balancing his phone between his ear and shoulder, and gave her an answer anyone would want to hear,

“’M fine. How are you?”

But Gemma wasn’t just anyone. She wasn’t a distant relative nor was she a friend he hung out with every other year – she was his sister and she knew him better than that.

“You can be honest, you know?” She reminded him, “I understand.”

It assured him, really. Not enough to make him smile, but it felt somewhat nice but nonetheless, he hummed.

So, Gemma went on, “I want to head to the flower market, what do you say about joining me?”

Harry’s movement halted, standing straight and holding his phone with his hand, “Which?”

She was glad he didn’t decline right away, but knew she still had to choose the right cards to play. “Columbia Road’s.”

“Th-I-That’s one of her favorite places.” He commented.

“What are the odds that she would be there, Harry?”

“Yeah, what if she was, Gemma? I-I can’t, ‘m sorry.” He shook his head, feeling anxious at just the mere possibility of seeing her.

“Please,” Gemma said gently, “You love that place.”

Because of her, he wanted to say. It was her who made him love that place despite the amount of people with their phones out, taking picture after picture of the flowers instead of actually buying or learning about them.

“I’m telling you; some people spend so much money on carnations and boast about their blue colors, but they always have no idea that they’re actually dyed.” She had told him once as they strolled through the market, hand in hand.

Gemma knew she was making a risky move, but she took her chances. “What if you see her? What happens if you do?”

Harry’s heart dropped, his palms got sweaty and millions of scenarios raced in his head.

Gemma knew he had heard her, but she wanted an answer, whatever it could be. “Harry?”

“She hates me,” He began, rubbing his hairline in distress as he felt his eyes grow tearful, “I-I can’t see her and see the amount of hate she has for me. It’s already killing me, Gem, I can’t.”

“But she doesn’t,” Gemma said, hearing him sigh in annoyance, “No, you listen to me. You’re feeding yourself bullshit and you’re forcing yourself to believe it. Did she say that? Did she tell you that she hates you?”

“She fucking implied it!” Harry shouted, “She said she regrets falling in love with me, what does that sound like, for fuck’s sake?!”

“Sounds like disappointment to me, Harry!” Gemma exclaimed, growing frustrated with how thick her brother could be. And to be honest, she was getting tired of tiptoeing around the truth – one he needed to hear. “Sounds like she was hurt that the one person she trusted and loved for years decided to tell her one day that she couldn’t fit in his life and he couldn’t fit in hers! Sounds like she was hurt to me, Harry, especially because she didn’t expect you to break up with her, no one did!”

That was the last straw for him. Harry’s tears fell, plopping himself down on one of the kitchen chairs, burying his face in his hand as he cried.

Gemma’s heart broke at the sobs she heard through the phone, but she knew he needed it. “You have been scared to see her, to talk to her since the moment she walked out of that door, Harry, but till when? It’s not doing either of you any good.”

Harry sniffled, “D-Did y-you talk to her? Know anything about her?”

“Yeah,” she said sadly, “She’s not okay.”

Another wave of tears hit him, shaking his head at himself.

“I’m a fucking idiot.” He repeated to himself, over and over.

“I’ll pick you up in 10. I was already on my way before calling you.”

Harry gave her no response except for a sniffle.

“Harry?”

He hummed in question.

“I love you, alright? I’ll help you fix this.”

---

Harry wasn’t lying when he said the flower market was all about her.

Without her by his side, it seemed like all flowers lost their beautiful blooming colors, devoid of the saturation. It seemed like his mind loved playing tricks on him so much that it refused to make him smell anything but her scent, even when surrounded by dozens and dozens of petals.

A pair of sunglasses hid his puffy and red eyes, and he hadn’t bothered to change out of the sweat shorts and t-shirt, only put on a pair of socks and jogging shoes.

Gemma was beside him, walking quietly with a pair of her own sunglasses perched on her nose, her arm linked with his.

She dragged him to one vendor, checking the flowers and bouquets before pointing at pretty, blue carnations. “Look at these, they look beautiful, don’t they?” She asked her brother.

“They’re dyed.” Harry had instantly replied, Gemma more surprised by the fact that he talked than by the statement.

“Ah, you know a secret,” The vendor smiled at Harry, “You read a lot?”

“My girlfriend d-“ He paused at his slip, feeling Gemma give him an assuring squeeze on his bicep, “Someone once told me that.”

“Better hold on to them, not everyone is interested enough to learn about stuff like that nowadays.”

Harry felt bitter, like he wanted to tell the man to shut up and ask him if he knew anything about what happened, ask him if he was mocking him, but he knew that that was his mind playing another goddamn trick on him.

He was getting sick of the tricks and the amount of times his mind mocked his state, because when he turned his head away from the man and spotted her, he wanted nothing more than to have a one-on-one fight with his mind.

His jaw dropped, his green eyes widened from beneath his sunglasses, and he felt like he no longer was in an open-air place.

There she stood, in flared jeans, a half-sleeved shirt and eyes hidden beneath a pair of Seven Wonders sunglasses that Gemma had gifted her when she launched her brand. In her hands was one single yellow daffodil, holding it gently and with care, reminding Harry of the days and nights when she would hold him, exactly as a flower.

“Ha-“ Gemma stopped, following his gaze before her eyebrows shot up. She couldn’t say she was very surprised, because she knew how much Sundays at the flower market meant to her friend and brother’s ex.

Gemma also knew it was the first time since the breakup that Y/N visited the place and she couldn’t be any happier for her friend for kicking herself out of the bed and to the one place she enjoyed being at.

Y/N seemed oblivious to the Styles siblings’ fixed gaze on her, carrying herself with grace despite the ache in her heart and the memories that clouded her mind with that one special someone – someone who was standing nearby.

Time seemed to go slow, as if someone had added a slo-mo effect. She had turned, and she was going to miss him if it weren’t for her double taking.

The daffodil almost dropped from her hands, and her knees almost gave out on her.

As if she was pulling the leash on her heart, she turned away quickly before beginning to walk away in big steps, Harry’s heart aching.

“Go!” Gemma urged him, “Fucking go after you, you shit!” She pushed his back.

“I-“ Harry shook his head at his sister, not being able to tear his eyes away from Y/N’s figure as she walked among the crowd, leaning to the side as to not lose sight of her.

“You can, Harry!” She groaned, before tugging on his arm, making him look at her stern face, “It’s now or never, Harry. Your call.”

More often than not, Harry was thankful and grateful for his older sister; like when she took him sightseeing in London for the first time when he was 16 during the boot camp stage of The X-Factor, or when she would help him with his science and English coursework back when he was at school as a kid.

Like that moment, as he ran after his love.

It was easy to spot her. It was easy to run towards her.

Reaching her, Harry gently held her elbow, halting her movement before she turned, and fuck, 

what now?

He expected her to shout at him, tell him that she wanted nothing to do with him but she was quiet, looking up at him as she waited and Harry didn’t know whether he was thankful or despised the fact that he couldn’t see her eyes – was she glaring at him? Was she not?

He opened his mouth before closing it again, slowly removing his hand from her arm, unaware to her longing for his touch.

“Say anything, Harry, dammit.” She almost pleaded, pushing her weight to her right leg and – finally – putting her glasses on top of her head.

Harry definitely wished she kept them on.

Because the moment he saw her puffy eyes, clearly from crying, he wanted nothing but to cry out himself.

As if to assure her though, Harry mirrored her and placed his own on top of his head, letting her see how the eyes she adored so much, the color she decided was her favorite, was hidden beneath the puffiness and red.

“I don’t know what to say, fuck me,” he cringed at himself, reaching up to aggressively rub his eyes with his palms as to calm himself.

But then she gave him that look, that one look she gave him before walking out of the door a month ago – she was disappointed.

She shook her head at him, eyes judging him. “Forget it.” She was about to turn again when he, again, held her, but that time, Harry’s hand reached for hers.

“I’m sorry.” He blurted.

God, what exactly was he sorry for? What exactly was he apologizing for? Kissing her one moment then breaking up with her the other? Not calling her? Standing in front of her and being a coward?

But she had always been patient with him, and as much as her friends advised her against, she was still patient with him that moment.

“I can’t read your mind.” She said gently, stepping closer to him and looking him directly in the eyes, searching them. “Use your words.”

“I can’t do this without you,” Harry’s tone matched hers, staring down at her and stealing a glance at her lips before going back to her eyes, “I was- No, I am a dick. I’m an idiot. It’s taken me too long because I’m just an arrogant son of a bitch who can’t admit when he’s sorry and,” he shook his head, “But I am. I fucking hate myself for letting you leave, for saying the bullshit I said, for- for disappointing you,” he gulped down the tears that threatened to fall,

“I can’t sleep without you. Can’t eat, can’t function like a normal fucking human without you and I am to blame.”

Y/N listened, eyes getting glossy before she took a breath in, gulping as she tore eye contact before looking back at him, “Would you have said all that if you hadn’t seen me here?”

Harry stared at her a moment.

“Would you have called me? Visited?” One single tear betrayed her and fell, “Because I waited for you, all damn month.”

Before he was even aware, Harry nodded, taking the risk to reach forward and cup her face in his hands, watching as she closed her eyes at the feeling. “I would have.”

“I can’t-” She let out a sob, looking up at him with an almost childish frown, “I can’t afford having my heart broken by you again, Harry, because it fucking sucked.”

His breath hitched in his throat but it didn’t stop him from pulling her into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around her, hiding his face in her hair, his senses waking at the whiff of her shampoo.

“Never again.”

Daffodils symbolize rebirth and new beginnings.

[theonewiththefanfics]

Not You (one-shot)

Synopsis: Bucky has loved the Reader for three years. She has loved him for two. Both are dumbasses, and Sam is fed up.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, SMUT

Warnings: SMUT (unprotected sex (wrap it up, before doing the devil’s tango), swearing, filth, but like cute and fluffy filth. Filth with emosh.

Word count: 5172

   “What is this?”

   That was not how Bucky Barnes thought his night would go. After leaving the gala where Pepper announced the Black Widow foundation, the ex-Winter Soldier said 'thank you' to his date, walked her home and slowly strolled back to the apartment he shared with Sam. Once he got there, he took off the suit and the tie that had been choking him the whole evening, grabbed a hot shower and plopped down into his bed.

   He was surrounded by mountains of pillows and the softest mattress and bedding he’d ever had. After everything he’d been put through, Bucky appreciated soft things. That’s why he loved Y/N so much.

   She was the softest being in the universe, figuratively and literally. The first time they’d met and shook hands (he deliberately stuck out his flesh one, not wanting her to touch the silver-and-red-starred monstrosity), his eyes had widened in disbelief at how soft her skin had been. The handshake lingered a bit longer than needed for a first-time meeting, not to mention how he’d run his thumb over the top of her hand repeatedly.

   “You know, I’m gonna need that back at some point,” Y/N teased him, a mischievous glint sparking up her Y/E/C eyes.

   Bucky’d muttered a quick apology, but she dismissed him. “If you need a longer hug as well, just let me know.”

   And he had. Whenever he’d had a bad day, especially after missions, he’d come to the tower and plop down onto the couch. No matter what she’d be doing, around five to twenty minutes later, Y/N would appear with two hot chocolates in hand. Instantly, Bucky would curl himself against her as her fingers would card through his brown locks, making him feel safe and warm.

   That’s how he had fallen asleep that night - with the gentle thought of Y/N lying next to him and humming a quiet tune. It’s why he was more than surprised to find her banging against his door, fury, hurt and confusion written all over her face.

   “What is this?” she repeated again, pushing a piece of paper towards him.

   Fuck, how he wished he hadn’t cut his hair just so it could obscure the utter horror that exploded on his features when he saw the words on the page.

   He shook his head. “I – I didn’t write that.”

   “Bullshit, Barnes!” Y/N hissed, elbowing her way inside the apartment. “I recognize your handwriting because it’s the exact same handwriting I see every day as I rewrite your reports.”

   Bucky’s eyebrow shot up. Y/N shrugged. “Your grammar is horrific, and Fury would throw out any report that even mildly looked like yours do. But that’s besides the point. What the fuck is this?” She didn’t give him time to respond though. “You – you can’t just do that! You can’t leave me confessions like these after what you’ve done.”

   “What did I do?”

   Y/N scoffed and glared at him, hands on her hips. “You brought someone else to the gala. You took someone else as your date. Not to mention your Friday ‘love-nights’. How do you expect me to believe this shit when every weekend you spend it with someone else?”

   “You weren’t meant to see that,” he whispered so low she couldn’t hear it.

   “Pardon?”

   Bucky let out a shaky breath. “You weren’t meant to see that. Ever.”

   That made her take an involuntary step back, and Bucky raked a hand through his hair. Only then did Y/N fully see he was just in his boxers and had to swallow hard.

   “It was Sam’s dumb idea.”

   “What was?” she asked, voice low and trembling.

   “To write that letter. He told me to write down how I felt because I couldn’t deal with it anymore,” his blue eyes snapped up to hers, and it was like all the air was punched out of her because of the intensity in them. “Do you know how hard it is for me to see you every day without kissing you? How much self-control I need to have, not to just lean up and press my lips to yours when you so easily hold me? It’s like what I’ve done doesn’t matter to you!”

   “Because it doesn’t!” Y/N’s tone matched his. It was the only thing she could say, as processing the previous statements turned out not to be that easy.

   Bucky let out a frustrated snort. “Yeah, I know. That’s why it’s practically impossible for me to be around you. You just – you just accept me for who I am, and you love me the way I am… broken bits and all…”

   Her vision had gotten watery, and it was only when Bucky stepped forward and wiped away a stray tear did Y/N realize she was crying. “You’re not broken,” she choked out and shook her head.

   “No,” he agreed. “Not to you. For whatever reason, by some kind of a miracle, you see me just as a man… like I’m normal… and that’s why I fell in love with you.”

   “Why didn’t you say anything?”

   Bucky lifted his shoulders and dropped them. “How could I when I knew you deserved better? Deserve better. If things had gone the way I wanted them to, you’d never have known how I felt. You would have fallen in love with someone kind and smart, and they would treat you like you deserve to be treated. And I’d stand by and watch.”

   Y/N closed her eyes and stepped out of his embrace. “Why? Just… why?”

   “Because this can cost me you. And I’m a selfish asshole… losing you is not something I can handle.”

   “So – so all those other women,” she pointed to the door as if there was a hoard of people outside, “so you just use them to forget about me?”

   Bucky shook his head. There was no point in lying anymore. All the cards were already on the table. “No. Every time I go out with someone, I genuinely hope that there will be a spark. I truly, honestly hope that maybe I’ll fall for one of them… But I don’t… because they’re not you.”

 “No,” Y/N stammered, shaking her head. “They’re not me… because I’m… me…” Her eyebrows were furrowed as she pointed a finger at herself and looked to the ground. At this point, she was unsure if she was herself because Bucky being in love with her didn’t make any sense.

   It didn’t make sense that he had taken Sam’s advice, it didn’t make sense that he had written out his love confession, and it didn’t make sense that he was so openly admitting that every single word on that page was true.

   This was not how Y/N thought her night would go. After seeing Bucky enter the hall with a gorgeous date by his side, she instantly rushed to the bar and ordered herself a drink. As she sipped on it, she was glad she had her own date with her. Matt Murdock. They’d been friends ever since law school, and she was very much so aware of his nightly activities. It was more so a business arrangement, that evening that is. He was on a trail of a dirty businessman, and she needed his legal counsel after some questionable actions had been done by a rogue SHIELD agent.

   “Drowning your feelings?” her friend’s gruff voice sparked up next to her. Y/N looked to her right and saw Matt remove his glasses. She smiled. She was one of the few people he did that around. It made her feel trustworthy.

   “Something like that.”

   Matt chuckled and motioned with a finger towards the bartender. “Does that have anything to do with Bucky who just walked in?”

   “Do you ever mind your own business?” Y/N snorted, taking the legs of Matt’s glasses and playing with them.

   “I’m a lawyer. It’s my business to be all up in other people’s business.”

   “Yeah, but I didn’t invite you here as my lawyer,” she said, chugging down the rest of her drink.

   Matt gave her a crooked smile. “Well, with you… and certain other people, I’m all up in your business... as a friend.”

   “Well then, friend, how about you get me another drink, and I can tell you all about my sob story?”

   They chatted for a good hour and a half, and Matt did everything in his power to take Y/N’s attention away any time Bucky so much as stepped in her direction. Somewhere along the line, they had ventured on the topic of Matt’s own love-life, and by that point, Pepper had made the official announcement of the Black Widow Foundation as well as the Tony Stark Trust fund.

   Champagne flew, laughter and cheers echoed all around, but Y/N wasn’t feeling it anymore. Not after seeing Bucky lean down to his date and press a kiss to her cheek, as she, with a smile on her face, took his hand and together they made their way out of the hall.

 After that, Matt had called a taxi and together they’d gone to his office, grabbed some files and made their way to his home. Y/N paid the fare and stepped out onto the freezing streets of Hell’s Kitchen. She couldn’t help the smile that lifted her lips at the irony.

   Matt motioned with the papers to the apartment behind him. “Wanna come up? I have some beer, and we can talk a bit more… or go through the case if you need to think about something else.”

   “I think I’ll just walk back,” Y/N waved him off and rocked back and forth on her feet.

   “Are you sure?” there was concern in Matt’s voice. “I don’t mind you staying over. I can give you some spare clothes.” But Y/N was already shaking her head. She knew Matt couldn’t see it, but he definitely heard how her hair swished in the wind with the motion.

   “I need to clear my head,” and she started to walk away but not before turning around and saying, “besides, I have the Devil looking over me.”

   Not that she needed it. Working with the Avengers in any capacity made sure you knew hand-to-hand, let alone being a Level Nine SHIELD agent. But it was nice knowing she had someone looking out for her. It was nice knowing Y/N had someone who cared.

   Snow had started to fall in heavy flakes, and a gust of wind pulled up her coat. Instantly she regretted her decision of walking back to the tower. With a grumble, she stashed her hands into the pockets, and that’s when something crunched there.

   In the middle of the road, she stopped and pulled out what turned out to be Bucky’s confession. It only took her twenty minutes to get to his apartment. And that’s what had led them to that moment.

   Bucky tilted his head trying to read Y/N’s expression but without any luck. Guess seventy years of being a spy went out the window the second he was faced with the woman he loved.

   “What’s going on through that pretty head of yours?” he whispered tucking a piece of hair that had gotten stuck to her lip back behind her ear. The snow that had been stuck in her hair when she’d first barged in had now melted, leaving the Y/H/C strands with translucent pearls atop them.

   Y/N shook her head. “That we’re the biggest idiots the world has ever seen.”

   There was no time to process what she had said because, in that same moment, her arms had wrapped around Bucky’s shoulders and pulled him down for their lips to meet. He was glad she was strong enough to carry a man (and his emotional baggage) because he quite literally sagged down, tongue swiping against her mouth to ask for entrance.

   In his head, Bucky thought she’d easily give in, but the smirk that pulled her lips up in a smile, made him groan in frustration.

   “Baby come on,” he said, kissing her again and again. “Please.”

   Y/N just chuckled. “Gotta make you work for –“

   He took his chance. Right in the middle of her sentence, he slotted his tongue between her parted lips, and now she was the one whose knees wobbled.

   “Take me to your bed,” she gasped once Bucky was satisfied with how far he'd gotten to explore her. “Please.” But then another thought entered her mind. “Unless you already have someone in it.”

   “God, no,” Bucky laughed, slipping off her winter coat and leaving it on the floor, exposing the exquisite sight that was hiding underneath. “That place is reserved just for you.”

   “Yeah?” Y/N’s nose nudged against his, and he nudged right back.

   “Yeah.”

   Both of them were breathless by the time Bucky’s bedroom door swung open. One, it was from all of the kissing, two, because neither had really seen the walls in the hallway and had slammed one another against them.

   “Make love to me,” Y/N breathed against his mouth, tugging Bucky’s bottom lip between her teeth.

   “What?”

   “Tomorrow you can fuck my brains out… but I want you to make love to me tonight. Show me that everything in that letter is true.”

   It didn’t take more than that for Y/N to convince Bucky. Almost viciously, he gripped the covers of his bed and threw them onto the ground. His hands didn’t leave her body for a single second. Every night there had been a goodbye, one last touch of the day before both of them went their separate ways. There had always been one last hug. Not this time.

   Bucky sank down onto the floor, on his knees in front of Y/N like in a prayer, one hand on the back of her thigh, the other trailing lower and lower until he reached the end of the evening gown.

   She was still wearing her heels. He could feel how cold her toes had gotten after that walk, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to leave the golden stilettos on, but this wasn’t about him. It was about both of them. So, he quickly unclasped them and held out a hand which Y/N graciously took as she stepped onto the cold hardwood floor.

   When she had first walked inside that room where the gala was being held, Bucky thought his lungs had stopped working. Y/N was breathtaking. All dolled up to the nines, with the sheer black dress and the golden sparkle that strategically covered her up, he no longer remembered how to breathe. There was even a cape that transformed from black into the golden shimmer like the evening sky, and he could only think – what if the black was white?

   Bucky took great care in removing Y/N’s dress. He took his time marking her skin with his lips, leaving himself and her little reminders for tomorrow… or that morning, as the clock on his nightstand showed it was 3:13 AM already.

   Had he been wearing his suit, Y/N would’ve been mimicking his moves and undressing Bucky, but he was already almost naked, so she just allowed her palms to explore the scarred skin.

   He was all dips and ridges, with some of the raised skin more sensitive than other places, especially where his metal arm met his shoulder. This was the newer one, the one from Wakanda. There was no star or silver. It was all black and gold, much like the dress that now was in a heap around her body, and much like the underwear still left on her form, to which Bucky had to use all of his willpower not to rip it off.

   A shudder ran down his spine when Y/N leaned away from where he’d been assaulting her neck and pressed her own lips against his left shoulder. Shuri and the rest of the doctors had taken great care of the ruined tissue, and it no longer looked angry and red, rather a pale gleam against the rest of his flushed skin.

   For the first time in a while, Bucky allowed himself to enjoy what was happening. There was that stupid, annoying voice in the back of his head, the one that had told him he wasn’t good enough for Y/N, but he put it in a little jail cell and threw the key away because he’d be damned if he didn’t allow himself to fully experience what paradise was like.

   He hadn’t even noticed how Y/N’s hand had travelled all the way down from his collarbones to his chest, down his abs and to the front of his boxers, too focused on the gentle way her lips marked him.

   “Shit, fuck, baby,” Bucky hissed as her palm had slipped behind the one piece of clothing on his body and grasped him at the base.

   He was hard, painfully so, but the slow and rhythmic twisting of Y/N’s hand alleviated the built-up tension. She swiped her thumb over the tip of his cock, and he moaned.

   “Keep going like that, and I won’t be able to deliver.”

   Instantly Y/N pulled away, and instantly he missed her touch. “Really?” she smirked. “I thought the super-soldier serum enhanced everything. Stamina included,” she had leaned back up and tugged at Bucky’s earlobe. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you are a hundred-years-old grampa.”

   Hands roughened by war and hurt oh so tenderly slid up Y/N’s waist to her back and unclasped her bra. She sighed in relief as the material was flung away somewhere into the depths of the room.

   Bucky’s fingers skimmed over the marks the offensive piece of clothing had left all around Y/N’s ribs before he leant in and closed his mouth around one of her nipples.

   “Hundred or not, I wanna make this last,” a sloppy ‘pop’ noise made her gasp as his lips travelled back to her neck. “And I ain’t cumming until you do. At least three times.”

   He guided her backwards, careful not to get tangled in the dress. The back of Y/N’s knees hit the edge, and slowly she crawled up the soft mattress, not once letting Bucky’s lips disappear from hers.

   He hovered above her, and for a while they just made out, letting their hands roam over their bodies and release any stress or anxiety that was still hiding in their muscles. At some point, both of them had lost the last bits of underwear and knowing that nothing separated the two made a set of butterflies fly around in Y/N’s stomach while they frantically trashed in Bucky’s.

   He was keeping himself in check, his cock resting heavily against the inside of her thigh. He was so close, so close to being whole, but safety came first.

   “Condom,” Bucky announced, ready to climb off of Y/N, but she was quicker. In a flash, she was on top, straddling him and grinding against his hard-on.

   “ ‘M on the pill, need you now.”

   Bucky had to bite on his lip to the point that the tangy taste of iron invaded his mouth not to let the pornographic moan into the open at the feel of just how dripping Y/N was.

   “We can stop,” he shakily stated. “Any moment you feel uncomfortable, we can stop. I promise I won’t be offended.”

   Y/N’s heart clenched at the thoughtfulness, but she was eager and impatient and wet beyond belief, so with a roll of her eyes and without a warning, she rutted her hips a bit more backwards and let the tip of him slip into her.

   That shut Bucky up real quick, as inch by inch Y/N engulfed him in her warmth. The pleasure was the kind that consumes everything, leaving only heavy breathing and rattling hearts behind.

   She collapsed against Bucky’s chest once he was buried to the hilt, and he was quick to wrap his arms around her, letting her adjust and calm down a bit.

   “I want you,” Y/N murmured against Bucky’s collarbones, giving them a quick peck. “All of you… I’m kinda in love with you. Just as a side note.”

   Bucky was ready to fall back into his sappy speech, but once again Y/N took all the words right out from his mouth with just a simple swivel of her hips.

   “Fucking love that side note,” he helped her raise herself up and held the palms that rested on his stomach. “And you, of course.”

   Y/N let out a chocked back laugh before looking down at Bucky. It was like he had gone into his own little world as his blue, well now almost completely black eyes, scanned every inch of her body, only stopping when their gazes met.

   She reached out, thumb gently stroking his cheekbone. “You okay?”

   “Yeah,” he nodded and kissed the inside of her palm. “I’m perfect.”

   She kept eye contact with Bucky the whole way as her other hand trailed down his metal bicep and intertwined with the appendage. “Yeah, you are.” And slowly she lifted her hips up and sank down.

   The first time Bucky made her cum, he watched her. He memorized every single facial feature, and how beautifully Y/N’s mouth fell open in a silent gasp, her Y/E/C eyes never leaving his. He ingrained it in his brain - the way her chest stuttered while drawing in a breath, and how her whole body shuddered with pleasure. He just had to see it.

   The second time Bucky made her cum, he listened to her. He flipped her over and settled himself on top, hiding his face in the crook of Y/N’s neck. He listened to her laboured breathing, her thumping and erratic heart and the sweet, sweet way she whimpered his name. He listened to the obscene noises that exploded into the air every time his hips met hers and how her body moved against his sheets with every single move they made. But the symphony came to a crescendo when he finally heard her choke on a breath as extasy took her over.

   The third time he was going to make her cum, he wanted to feel her.

   “Turn around, doll face,” he muttered, taking in a shaky breath and kissing her neck.

   “But Bucky,” she whispered, tightening her grip around his shoulders, digging her nails in his skin in defiance to his wishes, “I wanna see you. You didn’t cum, and I wanna see.”

   A fluttering in his heart made the biggest fucking smile appear on his lips. Just the thought that she wanted to see him happy and in pleasure, made the super-soldier want to giggle like a schoolgirl. “And you will, I promise. I just wanna feel ya.”

   Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed. “I’d say you’re feeling me more than anyone right now.” In retaliation for that comment, she squeezed her already sensitive walls around his cock making both of them let out a moan.

   “No,” he groaned out, “just, please. Just wanna feel. Besides, I need a new canvas to leave my masterpieces on.”

   Hungry eyes trailed over her chest and neck and even her stomach and hips which were all littered in hickies. It was this realization that gave him a moment of opportunity to pull out and gently flip Y/N onto her stomach. She was already half-spent so rising on her elbows and knees was a task, but Bucky didn’t need her to do that.

   “Shh, lie down, baby,” he muttered, his chest pressed tightly to her back. Y/N didn’t argue. Her stomach was met with two soft, cloud-like pillows which Bucky had somehow managed to push underneath her. They lifted her hips up just enough, put them in the perfect angle for him to comfortably slide in without breaking Y/N’s spine in half.

   Her hands fisted the sheets above her head as Bucky filled her once more, and now she understood what he’d meant by just feeling her. She couldn’t see him anymore, and his breath was obscured by where he’d hidden his nose in her hair. Only Bucky, only his gentle hands sliding down her biceps until they curled around her wrists and intertwined with her fingers, and only the steady thrum of his heart existed. No hug could ever make Y/N feel safer than she did at that moment. No kiss would ever make her soak up his existence more than that position. Nothing in the world could ever make her feel him closer than that single position. 

   All of Bucky's focus was on now was how Y/N felt underneath him. Her hot, sweat-slicked skin, how her back rose and fell, and the way she moved her hips in a desperate attempt to meet his. Bucky closed his eyes and tuned in all of his senses on how she felt wrapped around him, so tight and snug around every ridge and vein… so perfect…

   And all Y/N could focus on was Bucky. How his giant frame enveloped hers in a secure embrace, how his hands tightened around hers, and the way his chest heaved at every thrust, Bucky’s heart stuttering with every push. That little bubble was filled up even more when he leaned completely on top of her, careful to hold off his weight by placing most of it on his forearms and kissed her, swallowing all of her praises.

   “Fuck, I’m so close,” he moaned and captured her lips in another kiss. He was just about to let himself be taken over by absolute bliss, not before getting her off first, when Y/N spoke up.

   “Stop, Bucky, stop.”

   Instantly terror flooded his veins, and he pushed away. He was sacred he had hurt her, had done something she didn’t like, or that suddenly, in the middle of everything, she regretted him and would dash out of his apartment and life.

   “Do you hear that?”

   His forehead scrunched up. The only thing Bucky could hear was his own heartbeat in his ears and Y/N’s labored breathing. But then he focused and did. A soft scraping somewhere in the apartment had interrupted them.

   Her head turned fully to the side. “You said Sam’s away on a mission.”

   “He is,” Bucky nodded right as someone unlocked the door. Instantly, he was off of Y/N and out of the bed, grabbing his discarded boxers. “Stay here.”

   She hissed his name, right as he grabbed a gun from the bedside drawer and exited into the hallway. With a roll of her eyes, she wrapped the sheet tightly around herself and picked up one of the stilettos, pulling out a thin vibranuim needle from one of the heels. She never went anywhere without a weapon.

   Y/N was half-way towards the living room when two voices talking back and forth, made her slow done her pace. One of them was clearly the gruff tone of Bucky flinging off the walls, the other was a bit smoother, but still just as deep.

   “Sam?”

   Almost like in a daze, half-smile on his lips he waved back at Y/N, Bucky swishing around as well. “Hi.”

   “Weren’t you supposed to be on a mission?” she asked, careful of the way the sheet stayed wrapped around her body. Knowing it wasn’t an intruder, she dropped her blade onto the countertop and crossed her arms.

   Sam nodded. “Yeah, but there was some new info that needed to be processed before they sent us out. So, I’m leaving tomorrow evening instead. Wanted to get one more good sleep in before spending my nights in a Siberian forest for a month.”

   A beat passed before Sam grinned like the Cheshire cat, motioning with a finger between the two and their undressed state. “Am I right in what I’m thinking?”

   “Dunno,” Bucky growled, crossing his arms over his chest. “If it’s about how you’re close to losing some teeth, then very much so.”

   But the Captain-ex-Falcon disregarded his dig.

   “Fucking finally!” Sam hollered, fist-bumping the air. “God, it’s taken you two ages! This calls for a celebration!” He was halfway to the fridge when Y/N cleared her throat.

   Bucky put both hands on his hips. “Yeah well, can we do it later? We were in the middle of something. And, ya know, neither of us got to finish.”

   “You know what, it’s fine,” Y/N waved both of them off with a tight-lipped smile. “The mood’s kinda ruined. I think Imma just grab a shower and get a cab. We can finish this at some other time.”

   That was the wrong thing to say as Sam rushed afterwards Y/N and pulled her by the bicep towards Bucky practically shoving her into his chest.

   “No, no, no, no, no! The mood is not ruined!” Sam pointed at Y/N. “I’ve had to listen to him groan about being in love with you for the past three years, and when it finally happens…” he huffed. “I’m not going to listen to another thirty years of his dumbass complaining… now go in there and finish what you started.” He gestured towards Bucky’s bedroom. “I did not go through all that trouble with that stupid note just for this whole thing to fall apart. I’ll be out of your hair in a second.”

   “It was you?” Bucky exclaimed holding onto Y/N’s waist. 

   If Sam was the least bit ashamed of going through his personal things he didn’t show. “Don’t leave your love letters lying around the house… besides, she’s been in love with you for two years. It’s not my fault you’re two dumbasses. Someone had to make the first move.”

   Bucky scoffed. “I would have!”

   “Really?” Both Y/N and Sam looked at the brunet with raised eyebrows. 

   Bucky blushed a bit and tightened his hand on Y/N's waist. “Yeah… eventually.”

   Sam snorted and gave him a ‘sure you would’ve’ kind of a look before grabbing his keys from the counter. “I’ll be staying at the tower. Use protection, kids!”

   The door slammed shut right as Y/N and Bucky both scoffed and shook their heads. She was still staring where Sam had disappeared thinking about when the hell did he manage to slip the note in her coat when she felt the strong gaze of two blue eyes watching her.

   “Yes?” Y/N cocked her head to the side.

   Bucky shrugged. “I’m still up for it. I promised three orgasms, didn’t I?”

   “That you did, but tell you what,” she trailed a hand up his chest, Bucky instinctively wrapping his hands around her. “First we order pizza, and then we finish what we started. You kinda made me hungry.”

   For a moment, Bucky contemplated Y/N’s proposal, but he wasn’t going to disagree. As she went to plop down onto the couch, he went after his phone and placed the order; he didn't even need to ask what she wanted, knowing her choice by heart.

   “Done,” his heavy frame made the sofa dip, and Y/N was just about to cuddle in his side when he pushed her back and slotted himself between her legs, the sheet unceremoniously falling to the ground revealing her naked form. “But I’m having dessert first.”

Tags (crossed out wouldn't take):

Bucky tag list: @thunderous-flower @who-cares-rn​ @projectxhappiness​ @callmebucky-doll​ @coal000​ @killuaenthusiast @courtneychicken​ @sophiealiice​ @raquelbc2003​ @watch-out-for-thorns​ @potentially-kinetic​ @thatonegirljessy99​ @proxinge @bbkenna @buckysclub​ @ulired @fangirlofeverythingbasically @mrsalh32611​ @horrorx570ximagines​ @the-nargles-made-me-do-it​ @pooslie​ @itsisabelanotisabella @httpmcrvel​ @purplebananatragedy​ @pxrrishly​ @parker-barnes-af​ @skulliebythesea​ @california-grown​ @stevehesaidabadlanguageword​ @belongsto-prachi​

Forever tags: @lumelgy​ @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415​ @crazy--me​ @thatawkwardlittlefangirl​ @sea040561​ @staryeyedgirl​ @deathbyarabbit​ @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91​ @dalilx​ @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki​ @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ @averyrogers83​ @in-the-end-im-still-trash​ @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch​ @avxgers​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @sweet-ladyy​ @magicwithaknife​ @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines​ @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28

Marvel tags: @nerissa98​ @happyseagrill​ @asguardiansoftheavengers​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @wishingforahome​ @pizzarollpatrol​ @desir-ae​

A/N: mY BUCKY TAGS ARE NOT WORKING :(((((( TUMBLR!!!! WHAT THE FUCk!!

does anyone know how to fix that???

P.S. what did ya think? my tags are always open

[kuroo-shitsurou]

Communicate (Haiba Lev x kuudere!Reader)

note: first entry for haikyuu! i'm open for requests, just hmu! i apologize for any mistakes. some of my stories were intentionally made to be f!reader, but i figured gn!reader would be more appropriate. so i apologize if you see any she/her/names that are in the text. ^^

(i'm adding w/c now as well!)

word count: 3.8k

"He's not coming back tonight, no?"

For a few moments, there was silence. A gust of wind blew past the apartment complex, rustling the leaves of the trees planted down below. You sat on the chair set up on your balcony. Looking over the metal railings, you admired how the yellow and red taillights of cars stuck in traffic bobbed up and down the street. Somehow, they looked like Christmas lights tossed in a messy line; Like they were discarded the morning right after Christmas because the tree had to be taken down again.

You hugged the jacket closer to your arms, hoping to gain more warmth. Inhaling the fresh scent of laundry detergent, you smiled. Eyes crestfallen and tears just barely swimming in your ducts. The cold breeze of December brushed past your hair, tickling the back of your neck. It's the first Christmas I'm spending without you.

Your cat, Maika, jumped on your lap. She purred and mewled, rubbing her head against your warm hand. You managed to choke out a small chuckle, petting the white fur of the cat. You let your eyes wander to the glass doors connecting the living room and balcony. Your couch was there, a duvet carelessly thrown on top of it. You shouldn't help but let a few drops of salty tears fall down your cheeks.

You weren't really the type of person to cry over silly things. In fact, you rarely cried at all. As far as you remember, the last time you cried over something petty was back in second grade. You were teased for cutting your own hair; Your bangs looked choppy, and one classmate even mentioned how you managed to cut a giant chunk out from the back of your head. Admittedly, you were pretty stupid for messing around with the scissors you found on the table, but you didn't really know any better. Anyway, who knew that hair took so long to grow back?

Other than that, you don't recall crying anymore. Throughout your middle and high school years, tears weren't really present to disrupt your life. Not even when Kuroo accidentally spiked a ball into the back of your head, and not even when Yaku accidentally kicked your shin because you were standing too close to his original target, Lev.

Lev.

Although you didn't find any reason for letting yourself cry during those years, you couldn't help but tear up when you remembered Lev. You were incredibly proud of yourself for counting up to five days without crying every since Lev left your shared apartment. However, today was Christmas eve. There were approximately three hours before Christmas, and here you were, spending it with Maika, on the balcony, crying your eyes out.

To be completely honest, you knew that it was your fault that Lev left. You were a rather independent person. You had a bold personality; Never afraid of being blunt to people, never afraid of telling others if they needed to be scolded. However, you were an absolute novice when it came to showing affection to Lev.

It was a surprise, to say the least, to the entire volleyball team that the cold-hearted manager, _____-san, was dating the eccentric and hyperactive first year, Haiba Lev. Yaku, Kuroo, and Kai were in shock upon hearing the news from Lev. At first, they thought he was just kidding, but when they heard it from you, their minds were beyond boggled.

-

"Eh?!"

"Seriously?"

"Kuroo-san, why do you look so surprised? You too, Yaku-san. And Kai-senpai, I didn't think you'd be interested in my love life as well." You calmly said, clipboard firm against your chest, as your eyes scanned the volleyball posters displayed in the volleyball club room.

"W-Well, I didn't think it was actually true because Lev was the one saying it. I thought he was just bullshitting us." Yaku admitted, scratching the back of his head before sending you a sheepish smile.

"You're growing up too fast, _____-san!" Kuroo quipped, wrapping his arms around you like a doting aunt, "You have a boyfriend now, I'm getting old!"

"Kuroo-san, please stop patronizing me. I have feelings too. Why does this come as a surprise to you all? Inuoka-kun and Futakuchi-kun also asked me if Haiba-kun and I were actually dating. It's not like I'm a robot or anything, I can... contract love too." Your disheveled form pried Kuroo's arms away from you, and you dusted your shoulders off as if Kuroo left dirt atop of them.

"You don't contract love, _____. It's not a disease." Yaku laughed at your poor choice of words.

"You, see _____-san, we just didn't think that you were interested in romance for the time being, and for you to be dating someone like Lev, it's surprising. In a good way, though, don't get me wrong. Lev's a good kid." Kai was the calmest of the bunch, but he was simply masking his happiness. He was the one who invited you to be their manager, after all. He saw how you grew out of your shell gradually. It's nice to see you enjoying the years of your youth, as Kuroo would put it.

"Ah, I see. To be honest, I didn't think I would also participate in a romantic relationship with anyone this early on. However, Haiba-kun successfully caught my attention. I think it would be a fun experience. Whatever happens, I get to grasp a further understanding of our Russian first year, and I also gain knowledge on the department of... love." You mentioned nonchalantly.

Kuroo, Yaku, and Kai all exchanged knowing looks; Something that screamed: "Are you sure you're not a robot?"

"_____-chan!" Lev's excited voice was heard from outside of the gym. The first years finally arrived, signifying that practice would begin soon.

"Pardon me. Thank you for your time." You bowed politely to the three seniors and walked over to where the first years were leaving their things.

"_____-chan I missed you a lot today! I only got to see you in free period earlier, and that was barely 10 minutes, but you're here now!" Lev was like a puppy. He was bouncing around, showering you with genuine compliments and adorations, his smile reaching the heavens above. Perhaps, if you pat his head, an invisible tail would wag? You considered the idea.

You managed to hold back a smile of your own, only replying with, "Get prepared for practice, Haiba-kun."

"_____-chan, you can call me Lev, you know? Since we are dating and all." The Russian said softly, wanting to get his point across, but not wanting to scare you.

"Maybe next time, Haiba-kun."

-

When you slipped inside your living room, you couldn't help but let out a few more sobs. There was a Christmas tree left half decorated just beside your television. Cans of tea and red bull were laying just on the feet of the couch. Half-empty and empty packets of chips were on the coffee table. God, you left the living room in such a messy state.

You pulled Lev's enormous (Well, it was enormous on you. But on Lev, it was the perfect size) jacket closer to your body, wishing you could smell his scent instead of the laundry detergent.

Maika wandered into the living room and onto her cat bed, stretching her paws and making herself comfortable before she went to take a nap.

You couldn't help but acknowledge the absolute dumpster fire when you saw yourself in the full body mirror near the entrance of your hallway. You were wearing a pair of fuzzy pajamas, an oversized shirt covered in stains and crumbs, and Lev's Nekoma jacket. Your hair was messy and ruffled, and you looked... pale. Eyes red and swollen, cheeks puffy, but your lips were white. You had never looked so awful before.

-

"_____-chan, you look amazing as always!" Lev came bounding to you.

"Congratulations on graduating! I'm so proud of you!" He took you in a tight embrace, lifting you up and spinning you around.

"H-Haiba-kun, please put me down!" You squealed, wriggling around in Lev's grip, trying to get away. For a split second, you could've sworn that Lev's face darkened, but you decided to brush it off.

Once your feet touched the ground, you managed to say a short and quiet "Thank you."

"Ah, this is really happening, isn't it?" Lev shoved his hands in his pockets, looking up at the cherry blossom trees in full bloom.

"Y-Yeah. It will even eventually happen to you too, Haiba-kun. It's the way that life progresses," You knew that you were pathetic at mustering a good enough reply, so you chose to fumble with the hem of your collar.

"Hey, _____-chan, do you love me?" Lev asked, suddenly serious. His gaze was still fixated on the trees above, their branches freely swaying in the wind, a few cherry blossoms fluttering down as the breeze carried them away.

A blush creeped up on your cheeks. Of course you loved him! More than... anything, if you were being honest. More than volleyball, more than red bull, more than anime, but why couldn't you say it?

"Speak up, damn it!" You thought to yourself.

After a few minutes passed, you were still tongue-tied. You hated yourself for not being able to express your feelings. There were already tears in your eyes, but you didn't want to cry in front of Lev; You vowed that you never would.

Lev looked down to see his senior in a low mood. "Don't worry, _____-chan! It's okay if you can't say it yet, I understand." Lev caught a single cherry blossom as it was falling down and tucked it behind your ear, " I'll wait for the day that you can say it back, so for now, I'll say it for the both of us, okay?"

You were embarrassed. You were such an asshole for doing this to Lev. To make up for your lacking skills in communication, you tapped his hand. Curiously, he opened his palm, and you placed a small object on top of it.

Lev's smile contained nothing but pure, concentrated glee.

"Thank you for the button, _____-chan, I will always cherish this. Happy anniversary. I love you so much!"

-

You found yourself standing at the doorway of your shared bedroom. You longingly stared at the queen-sized bed. The sheets were crisp and the pillows were fluffed. You haven't been sleeping in that bed since Lev left the apartment. It just didn't feel right. There was something about a heavier loneliness whenever you tried to sleep alone in that bed when you were so damn used to having Lev sleep beside you. That's why you've been sleeping on the couch ever since; It's uncomfortable as all hell, yeah, but at least you don't feel a large empty space beside you when you sleep. Maybe a few crumbs here and there, but that was bearable.

You pattered your way back into the living room, where your laptop lay buried under the empty chip packets. You grabbed it from underneath the rubbish and brushed off other residue before plopping down on the couch. You slipped your arms into the sleeves of Lev's jacket and opened up your laptop. You've been neglecting your uni works for the past days because your sadness just didn't allow you to function properly.

Upon entering your passcode, the black background of the loading screen faded into a photo of you and Lev. He was wearing a minnie mouse headband, and you wore the matching mickey mouse one. You were standing in front of sleeping beauty's castle at Tokyo disneyland. You were wearing Lev's gray hoodie, which made it look like you were wearing a really short dress because of how long it was. You were both smiling like idiots, and you recalled that that trip was one of the best of your life. You never usually smiled like that, but because Lev carried you bridal style and kept touching your sides, you couldn't help but squirm and smile in the photo.

Once again, tears were brimming in the corners of your eyes. The stinging pain of heartbreak and regret stabbing you over and over again.

-

"It's Christmas in five days, _____." Lev popped up from behind you while you were decorating the tree.

"Jeez! Don't scare me like that, I nearly dropped the lights." You replied, calming your racing heart. Was it because of how he scared you, or because of how close he was? Honestly. you couldn't tell.

Lev could only chuckle at this, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He gave you a kiss on the cheek. "You know, my first year at uni has been great so far. Thanks to you and a few of my friends."

"That's great then." You said, tone of voice returning to a monotone one.

"I love you, _____."

You couldn't even recall all the times that you froze up whenever Lev admitted his feelings for you, but add one to whatever number it's at right now.

You could only swallow your saliva and grip the lights tighter. Say it, ______, say it! You kept yelling in your head. Why can't you fucking say it?!

"I knew it." A low laugh was heard from Lev's mouth. His fists were turning white because of how hard he balled them up. His nails were digging into his palm. "Sometimes, I wonder if you even actually love me. But I guess you never did."

You turned your head abruptly. "Haiba, that's-"

Lev let out a hearty laugh, throwing his head back. "We've been dating for over three years now and you still call me by my last name. Are you that uncomfortable with me, _____-san?"

You cringed at how he emphasized the honorific following your name, probably trying to prove a point.

"You know that's not true."

"Of course it is!" He snapped. " For god's sake, _____, three years! Three years, and not once have you told me that you love me!"

You were on the brink of crying. No. No, not in front of him. You weren't weak, you weren't going to cry.

"In all those years that we've been together, I have never seen you cry. Not even when we're upset with one another. Are you... that cold-hearted that you don't care or you don't even feel anything? Not even for your own boyfriend?"

Silence.

The words he spat were like venom.

You couldn't speak. Your mouth felt dry and your throat felt like it closed in an instant, like some sort of invisible throat cover just squeezed itself right there, preventing you from speaking.

"I see how it is."

With that, Lev spun on his heel and went to their room. He grabbed a backpack and stuffed it with a couple of shirts, his wallet, his phone, charger, and other necessities. He slipped on the thickest jacket he owned and went straight to the front door.

"Le-"

"Goodbye."

He slammed the door shut.

-

That was probably the first time that you broke down in years. Who knew that it would be a guy behind your facade fading?

Who knew that Haiba Lev would be the one to make you realize that being strong-willed didn't mean being cold-hearted and nonchalant?

"Stupid Lev." You muttered to yourself, hugging your knees to your chest. Admittedly, his name seemed to roll off your tongue nicely.

You desperately tried to wipe your tears away, but they just kept coming.

"Why do I love you so much?"

-

"Lev, are you sure you're okay with what you're doing?" Yaku asked the taller male, taking a sip from his beer mug.

"Yaku-san, we've been together for a little over three years. They've never told me that they loves me. Never even cried. I think they're just that stone-hearted," Lev replied, taking a shot of vodka. "Either that or they're a fucking robot."

He fiddled with the necklace around his neck, contemplating whether he was going to pull it off and stomp on it until it broke. The charm attached to his necklace was the button that _____ gave him on back during her graduation day.

"Lev, you better listen to me, and you better listen real fucking good." Yaku's tone of voice was sharp, and it was something that Lev hasn't heard since his years at Nekoma. "You do know that _____ can't express their emotions well, right? They're blunt with everybody, and they're honest. But when it comes to love or romance or feelings that make them happy, you know that they can't show it as easily as you do."

"Yeah, I know." Lev answered quietly.

"But you do know that they love you, right?"

"I don't."

"You're telling me that you've never even felt that they love you?"

Suddenly, Lev's eyes shot open.

-

"Christ, you're going to catch a cold! Why the hell did you run out in this rain?!"

"Sorry, sorry! I just had to rush here to see you! I missed you soooo much!"

"Get inside and hop in the shower. I'll prepare some warm food for you while you're in there. There's a spare towel in the cupboard above the sink."

"Thank you, _____-chan!"

-

"Stupid beanpole. I told you to change clothes after practice yesterday, didn't I?"

"Sorry, _____-chan. I totally forgot." He coughed.

"Here, drink this medicine. I'll reheat your porridge and grab you a cold towel for your head. I'll also bring in the assignments that Inuoka gave me."

"You'd be a good wife, _____-chan. My wife, that is." Another cough.

"Shut up and rest before I hit you with this notebook."

"Yes, yes, darling."

-

"Where were you?! We've been looking for you everywhere!"

"S-Sorry, _____-chan. I saw this cat stuck in a tree and I just had to rescue it!"

"Don't go running off like that! Do you know how worried the team was? How worried I was?! I thought you were gone! Look at how many scratches you have on your arm. You need to go to the infirmary, now."

"I-I'm sorry."

"Just... Don't do it again, please. Always be in my line of sight."

"Yes, _____-sama!"

-

"Haiba, here's your water bottle."

-

"Haiba, the forecast said that there might be a downpour in the afternoon. Don't forget to bring an umbrella."

-

"Haiba, you left your books at the gym. Here. Jeez, don't be so forgetful next time."

-

"Haiba, here, I bought your favorite meal. Furihata said that you forgot your lunch at home. You can't go hungry."

-

"Haiba, you're doing well. Your progress report shows continuous growth. I'm proud of you."

-

"I'm a fucking idiot." Lev said. His emerald green eyes were filled with tears. "Excuse me, I have to go."

With that, he dashed out of the bar, leaving a confused Yaku with a drunk Kuroo passed out behind him.

The former libero could only sight and take a giant gulp of beer.

"Damn right you are."

-

You were full on crying right now. Approximately 10 minutes before Christmas, and here you were, crying on the couch. Maika had given up on comforting you, but remained by your side as you bawled you eyes out, offering some sort of moral support or assurance that someone was there for you.

However, a few moments passed, and Maika's ears perked up. She jumped down from the couch and made her way to the front door of the apartment. She lightly scratched the door.

"M-Maika, I'm sorry. I know I'm being too loud, I'll pipe down soon." The girl blubbered, blowing into a tissue.

As if on cue, there were multiple knocks on the door.

Fuck's sake.

You didn't even care that you'd be facing whoever is on the other side of the door while looking like this. Your eyes were puffier, the bags under them more prominent. Your nose was a rosy red color, cheeks flushed and tear stains were obvious on them.

"Who the fuck-?"

As soon as you opened the door, a sudden warmth engulfed your body. The familiar fragrance you loved so much flooded your blocked nostrils.

"Le-"

"I'm sorry."

There was silence.

"I'm so sorry for everything that I said, _____. I take all of it back. I know that you love me. Your love language isn't vocal and I should have been more accepting and understanding of that. I may not know your reasons for being the way you are, but I promise you that I accept you wholly. I'm so, so fucking sorry that I left so suddenly. I love you so much. I'm never leaving you again."

Sobs racked through your body. Your form was shaking in Lev's arms. He was surprised. It's the first time he's seen you cry, and it breaks his heart knowing that he's the reason behind it.

"I'm sorry, kitten. Please don't cry anymore."

"Lev," You started, attempting to calm down, and Lev swore his heart stopped beating for a second, "I love you."

For a moment, everything stopped. They could hear the neighbors yelling "Merry Christmas!" in their own units.

"P-Pardon?"

You giggled. "I love you, Lev. I'm really sorry that it took me this long to tell you. I guess I was just scared of telling you how I really felt because... I didn't want you to think that I was cheesy or..."

Lev cut you off with a kiss. It was short and sweet. He could taste red bull and barbecue chips on your lips, and you could taste vodka on his. It was imperfect, but it was yours, and you loved it.

"I love you so much, _____. This is the best Christmas gift I've ever received."

"I love you too, Lev."

"Come on, let's get inside. I bought some takeout for us to eat." He easily lifted you up with one arm and grabbed the plastic bag of takeout with his free hand.

"Yeah, about that," You buried your face in his neck, "I'm sorry."

"We'll... Clean up tomorrow." He chuckled, looking at the messy state your living room was in. "We'll eat in our room, okay? Why don't you get cleaned up first, and I'll prepare the things we need." He placed a kiss on your cheek.

"Alright, Lev." You replied, "Sorry for causing a lot of trouble."

"Don't be sorry, malishka. We're fine now, okay? We have each other and we understand each other better now." He set you in front of the bathroom. "Now, go ahead and shower! I'll get a fresh set of clothes for you and leave them out here."

"Thank you, Lyovochka." You grinned, using Alisa's nickname for him.

"Anytime, babe." Lev turned around to go to the bedroom until,

"Hey, Lev?" You showed your head out of the bathroom door.

"Yes, _____?"

"I love you!"

The, the door was slammed shut.

"_____, you're too cute!" Lev had to use every strand of will power he had to not faint on the spot.

Who knew that his kuudere partner was such a huge softie?

Maola mewled and rubbed her head against Lev's leg.

"Merry Christmas to you too, Maika."

[fkingsteverogers]

Tell Me We’ll Be Just Fine

A/N: A couple points: 1) I made a new blog for these writings to make them easier to find 2) I have a tag list! lmk if you want to be added to it 3) For my non US babes and others, your third amendment rights say you can’t be forced to house soldiers. Long Story Short 

Contains TFATWS Episode 5 spoilers

                                                        ****

With John Walker being Honorably Discharged after an International Incident, you’re stuck under house arrest.  (The United States Government would tell you house arrest is too strong of a word, it’s simply Strongly Advised you stay in your apartment.) You want to scream from the rooftops that you had nothing to do with him, that it was all an act, but you’re being Strongly Advised, so that’s not an option. You hope, wherever he is, Bucky is having a better time than you are. 

Five Days; Eastern Europe:

Bucky is not having a good time. They’re in a country where everyone wants them dead, holed up in a shitty motel and all he can think of is the absolutely devastated look on your face when he walked out the door. It makes him brood. 

“You have to talk about her sometime.” 

“Who?” 

“Whoever makes you frown like that.” 

“‘M not frowning. What do you know about it anyway? You’re single.” So maybe he was being an ass about it. You were so far away, probably cuddled up with John or Steve, and he was here, sitting in a motel room with Sam. John Walker was probably feeling you up right now, running his hand over those beautiful thighs of yours as you kissed him, making soft little noises--he clenches his fist so hard he breaks the bowl he’d been holding, splattering rice and beans all over the floor cracked tile floor. 

“Yo, man, what the fuck?!” 

Day One; New York City: 

Steve’s allowed to visit, because of course he is. He flashes some badge and the guards (who are Strongly Advising you), stand down. “Why are you here, Stevie?” And you hate that you still call him Stevie. Stevie is what you called him on the quiet nights when you two were alone and he was still yours. Steve gives you his sad smile and you want to fall into his arms, to sob into his chest and tell him how you fucked it all up. You don’t. 

“Just go, Stevie.” 

Four Days; Eastern Europe: 

Sam goes to do some surveillance, announcing that he “couldn’t deal with this shit,” leaving Bucky alone in the shitty room they were sharing. Before he’d been deployed, he would’ve spent an afternoon alone in a hotel curled up with a pretty girl or a handsome boy. During the war, he’d spend a quiet day catching up on some sleep or rereading a well loved copy of The Hobbit. During his Hydra days (which he hated thinking about but also couldn’t stop thinking about), there really weren’t days off. There were days where he killed and days where he didn’t. Since then, he’d spent most of his days off trying to remember how to be a human. 

You had made those days feel like living again. And now you were John’s girl, dressed all pretty up for him and everything. Bucky’d been fucking stupid to think you’d want someone like him, someone damaged, someone with blood on his hands. You were good and soft and pretty. You spoke four languages and had probably read every book ever written. 

You’d been good enough for Steve. 

He breaks another bowl and has to lay down after.

Day Three; New York City: 

You glare down the solider that’s sitting in your kitchen, eating a sandwich. “This is violating my Third Amendment Rights, you know.” 

The smug bastard grins and keeps eating his sandwich. 

Two Days; Louisiana: 

“That shield’s the closest thing I’ve got left to a family, so when you retired it, I felt like I had nothing left.” 

The mission had gone down as well as any of their missions go, they’d been shot at, gotten out by the skin of their teeth. Sam left to go back home as soon as he could, Bucky followed. Where else did he have to go?

“You have her.” 

He didn’t, not really. 

“I don’t want to talk about her, Sam.” Bucky tosses the shield, scowling deeply. 

Sam sighs, catching the shield. He turned to face his friend, were they friends?, and looked him up and down. “Yeah, you do.” So maybe Bucky does want to talk about you, about how betrayed he feels by you choosing Walker over him. The government hadn’t been powerful enough to stop some gossip magazine from publishing a spread of you and Walker, you in a little red sundress that makes you look incredible and his hand on your thigh. There’s some bullshit story about how you met and had been so enamored with him you’d asked him for coffee on the spot.

 It makes Bucky physically sick with rage. 

Day Four; New York City: 

After four days of being Strongly Advised, you’re ready to start pulling out your hair. The news is nonstop coverage of what happened to John Walker, the green beret who had gone crazy and killed a man in a moment of grief induced rage. And to top it all off, People released a spread that makes you want to scream. The whole shoot hadn’t been your idea, some government publicist had insisted it was necessary to sell the story. In reality, it’d been five hours with John’s hands all over you, grinning like the cat that got the cream. During a break, he’d asked you about Steve, his tone suggesting something that was none of his business. 

“You don’t get to talk about Steve.” John had smirked at you, running his tongue over his teeth. It clearly annoyed him, someone thinking he wasn’t good enough for something. “What about your wife, John?” A look of surprise crosses his face but it’s gone in a moment, the mask he wears to keep people out back in place. 

“Olivia isn’t part of the deal. I thought we could be friends,” he spits the word out like it’s dirty, “but clearly you’re not interested in that, clearly you’re interested in--” 

“Be careful how you finish that sentence, John.” Your voice is low, betraying the landmine he’s almost stepped on. Given the chance, you’d stab John Walker in his pretty face. Decades in prison means nothing when the love of your life abandoned you and the man you thought you could count on ran out. (So maybe you were thinking about Bucky, it doesn’t actually matter.)

Bucky had been a solid presence in a sea of uncertainty. He’d made you feel safe and okay. After Steve’s departure and the death of Tony, the only member of your family left, solid and safety had been in short supply. He’d showed up, ate his cold beans in silence in the kitchen, and hadn’t left. He’d made you laugh in a way you hadn’t in months. You’d developed a routine, Bucky would wake up before you and boil water for tea, you’d stumble out and cook something to serve as breakfast, and you’d both go about your days. In the evenings, you’d come together, talk about the stupid shit that had happened during the day, watch a movie on Friday nights, and go to bed. It was nice to have a routine, something and someone you could depend on. 

The nights had been quiet since he left. 

Twelve Hours; New York City: 

Bucky’s plane lands and he breathes a sigh of relief. 

It’s raining when he steps out of the airport, a down pour by anyone’s standards. Fine by him, less people to avoid. He manages to make it to the little coffee shop outside your apartment without getting too soaked. Going up there wasn’t an option, not when you were probably angry with him for running out. So he sits, drinks endless cups of coffee and watches. 

“She takes it two creams, no sugar, if you want to bring it up to her.” Bucky turns and finds himself face to face with Steve. His friend looks old, but happy, at peace even. There’s so much he wants to say, he wants to ask Steve why he left, what he thought about Walker. He wants to punch him or throttle him or hug him. Bucky wants a long fucking hug. 

“I don’t think she wants to see me, punk.” Steve sits, shaking his head. 

“I didn’t think she wanted to see me, either. Sometimes she doesn’t know what’s good for her..” 

Before Bucky can reply, before he can really process what Steve is saying, he gets a text from Sam and he’s off to save the world again.

Day Five; New York City: 

Because the universe hates you, you can’t even use your phone to entertain yourself. Someone leaked your personal number and it hadn’t stopped ringing since. And, since the internet has no nuance, they’re mostly death threats. You’re reading a book when the guards who are Strongly Advising you abandon their posts. There’s something going on, something that no one bothers to inform you about. 

You go back to reading your book. Hopefully Bucky’s not being thrown through a wall. 

Thirty Minutes; New York City: 

Bucky gets thrown through a wall. 

It fucking hurts and he’s dizzy after. Like can’t-walk-straight-am-I-actually-drunk-dizzy. Sam, the useless bastard, loads him into a taxi, tells him he’ll be fine, and gives the driver your address. Bucky’s dimly aware of this fact, aware of the fact that this poor man is driving him, a bleeding super solider, to the one place he wanted to be but wasn’t welcome. 

Two Minutes; New York City: 

The guards aren’t back by the time the downstairs buzzer starts ringing incessantly. You’re in the middle of your book, right at the moment where the head-strong damsel and the Lord she hated are about to kiss. You try to ignore it, With a groan, you stomp down to the doors. 

Standing there, half supported by Vasily, the Russian cabbie (who is definitely into some shady business), is Bucky. 

Now; New York City: 

You thank Vasily, telling him you’ll pay for the cab when you see him on Friday for Shabbat, and take the bleeding Bucky into your arms. Bucky mumbles something, clearly speaking Russian but too lowly for you to actually understand. Vasily glares at him, muttering curses as he stalks away. 

Dragging Bucky up to your sixth floor apartment means sharing a run in with Daisy Mae, your elderly neighbor who’s 90% blind and enjoys loitering in the elevator. She seems to take offense to Bucky mumbling Russian children’s songs to himself. 

“Speak English dear, not Communism. We’re in the United States.” 

“Mind the business that pays you, Daisy Mae.”

She hmphs, but doesn’t say anything else. Bucky, for his part, gives a rousing performance of the Russian alphabet. Finally, you get Bucky into your apartment and unceremoniously drop him on your couch. 

It’s not long before he falls asleep, leaving you to stare at him for hours, wondering just what he’s going to say when he wakes up. 

When he does wake up, it’s to the scent of your soap, sweet watermelon that always leaves an aching in the pit of his stomach. Waking up on your couch, smelling your soap, and listening to you cook feels like a dream. How many times had he thought about this exact moment while he was with Sam? Soon enough you’d turn the corner from the kitchenette and smile at him, that beautiful smile that never failed to make him feel a little dizzy. 

And then he’d wake up in a shitty hotel room, listening to Sam take a shit through the paper thin walls. 

He waits, but when you appear, you’re frowning anxiously. And God, you’re so fucking beautiful. You’re wearing a pair of tiny sleep shorts that expose your long legs to his greedy eyes. Your hair is pushed back off your face, exposing the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen. 

Steve was a lucky man, to be able to love you.  Maybe one day he’ll find a woman like you to love, if he’s lucky. Has he ever been lucky?

Bucky looks confused when you appear holding tea. “Hi.” He doesn’t say anything back, just frowns back. Your mind races, realizing he probably doesn’t want to see you, that he was dropped off here by some well meaning friend, and he was going to get up and walk out the door again. 

“At least let me clean you up before you go.” Bucky nods wordlessly, looking like he’s still a little stunned. He takes a seat at the kitchen table as you pull down the first aid kit you’d put together when Steve was still here. There’s a cut above his eyebrow that’s still oozing a little blood. It’s in such a place you have to situate yourself between his legs in order to get to it. 

It’s quiet while you work, Bucky’s never been a man of many words and now he’s probably trying to figure out how to tell you you’re never going to see him again. As soon as he’s cleaned up well enough that you’re satisfied he won’t die sitting at your kitchen table, you step away to admire your handy work. Bucky’s left hand, his metal hand, catches your wrist and pulls you back to him. It holds you there while his right hand comes up to cup your face, running a thumb over your cheekbone. 

“You’re so beautiful.” 

He’s not sure what possesses him when he pulls you back into him. All he knows is if he doesn’t get you close, if he doesn’t tell you how fucking beautiful you are, he won’t be able to breathe. You make a little noise of exasperation, your gorgeous lips parting. “I mean it.” “Bucky…” You try to pull away but he holds you there, studying every inch of your face and committing it to memory. There’s an electricity between the two of you, it feels like the air is charged enough to light that stupid snail lamp you’d bought from Arrow or whatever that store you loved was called. “Bucky…” You repeat, your voice softer, in a tone he can’t quite describe

Before either of you can move or say anything else, the door swings open to reveal Sam and Torres, flanked by three soldiers. None of them take notice of what feels like a very compromising position. 

“Oh good, you’re here, Sargent Barnes. You're all being moved to a safe house. Pack enough for an indeterminate amount of time.” 

[a-singleboat]

Does He Know?

Word Count: 1.5k

Request: Damien Haas x Reader with the prompts 13, 33, 129 - Anon

Masterlist

You didn’t know your day could have gotten worse. Between hiding your obvious morning sickness from your oblivious boyfriend and actually doing your job, you were sure that only a gunfight could make your day any worse. You had your fingers crossed that that wouldn’t happen. You didn’t think you could mentally afford that trauma at the moment. 

As you sat in your cozy little office, you made idle gossip with your assistant, Emily, to pass the time. You organized your desk as she complained about the coffee machine on your floor not working for the thousandth time, lamenting that she had to make the trip two floors down for a decent cup. 

“Maybe you should learn how to fix the machine,” you suggested, only partially paying attention to what she was saying. Emily had moved on to her latest in-office crush, one of the techies that worked one floor up. “And I wouldn’t try it with any of the techies. They all look great, sure, but don’t do well in relationships.” 

“You don’t know that for certain,” Emily defended her crush. “Besides, not everyone can have the perfect relationship that you have with Mr. Damien Haas. Honestly, you guys are sickening.”

“Our relationship isn’t perfect,” you argued, hand falling to your stomach as if on instinct. You were barely even showing yet, part of the reason why you had been able to hide your pregnancy so well. “I mean, we still have our arguments…”

Emily narrowed her eyes at you, critical of the way your hand had immediately gone to your stomach at those words. You’d told her that you weren’t feeling the best earlier, the possibility of the stomach flu being high. That didn’t explain your switch from coffee to tea, specifically ginger tea--which she knew you hated with a passion. 

“Does he know about the baby?” Emily asked bluntly, crossing her arms over her chest. You hesitated, unsure of how to answer that. Emily was smart, you knew that. If she had managed to figure it out in less than thirty minutes, then you were sure Damien already knew. 

“No,” you lowered your voice. “He doesn’t. I was going to tell him, I swear, I just--”

“Bullshit. You weren’t going to tell him and we both know that.” Emily frowned. “God, Y/n. What were you going to do? Skip town and reappear with a child. You and Damien have been together, what? Five years?”

“Eight, actually,” you corrected. She glared at you, making you shut your mouth. 

“Eight years is no better, Y/n,” she reprimanded. “If you don’t tell him, then I will.”

“Tell him who?” 

You jumped banging your knee against the underside of your desk while Emily’s hand flew to her chest. The both of you turned to look at the office door, which had been left open. Sheepishly, Damien apologized for scaring the both of you. 

“How long have you been standing there?” you demanded, reorganizing the pens back into the pencil holder. “And what did you hear?”

Damien held his hands up in surrender. “I heard nothing. I literally just got here.”

“Good.” You exhaled. “What are you doing here? I thought you had a scene to shoot?” 

“I’m going to get a refill.” Emily snatched up her coffee mug and got up from her seat, edging around Damien on her way out of the office. She closed the door behind her, leaving the two of you in silence.

“Scene got pushed back because… well… I may have ripped my pants.” Damien turned around, revealing the rip down the middle of his pants. You tried not to laugh as he explained how it happened. “I swear I wasn’t doing anything I wasn’t supposed to. The piece of equipment had no right to go anywhere near my butt.”

“So what I’m hearing is you were standing where you weren’t supposed to and got caught on a piece of equipment, resulting in your split pants.”

“No,” Damien denied, the red of embarrassment already crawling onto his cheeks. You grinned and poked his cheek slightly, laughing as he swatted you away. 

“It’s fine,” you reassured, hands falling to his shoulders. You rubbed soothing circles into his shoulder blades, watching as he relaxed under your touch. “You’re lucky these aren’t your actual pants. Go get changed and bring these back to me, I’ll have them fixed in no time.”

“What were you and Emily talking about?” Damien stalled his exit, pulling you into his arms. You settled your head into his chest, breathing in the scent of new clothes and the detergent the two of you shared. 

“It was nothing,” you mumbled into his chest, patting his bicep. “Just work stuff. I accidentally stole Jeff’s stapler and she threatened to rat me out.”

You cringed at your lie. There was a reason you worked in costuming and not in front of the camera. You were a terrible actress and it showed. 

“Really?” Damien didn’t buy it. “Emily threatened you because you stole Jeff’s stapler? Somehow, I don’t believe it.” He held you at arm’s length, forcing you to look at him instead of the plaid fabric of his costume. “What’s actually the matter?”

Somehow, you knew it was now or never. If you didn’t tell him now, there was sure to be a train ticket with your name on it. You’d have to go into hiding, forever. You kid would grow up without their father and, most likely, an alcoholic mother because for some reason that’s how you say yourself in the future without Damien. 

And before you could stop yourself, your mouth opened and spilled your secret to the man standing in front of you. “I’m pregnant.” The two words stopped all time and movement as you watched the trainwreck that was your life unfold. 

He was silent, which was the worst reaction you could have thought of. This was it, he was going to break up with you and you would have to move cross country anyways because even being in the same state as him would be too painful. In your head, you thought of what your single-mother house would look like.

It most likely wouldn’t be a house. You’d live in a shack with an outhouse. Your baby would grow up to be a hick and you’d die of some ancient disease at the age of forty-three with no one by your kid to mourn you. 

Then, out of absolutely nowhere, Damien yelled out in… fear? No. Excitement. 

“I’m going to be a dad?” he asked, eyes widened and disbelieving. “You’re not joking, right? I’m actually going to be a father?” 

You nodded, tears you didn’t know you had dripped down onto your cheeks. The salty water sloped off your chin, landing on the carpet below you.

“Baby,” he wiped underneath your eyes with his thumb. “Why are you crying?” 

You exhaled shakily, falling into his chest as your sobs broke free. “Oh, I was so scared you were going to be mad at me.”

“Mad at you… Why would I be…?” His arms wrapped around your shoulders as you fisted his shirt in your hands. He was going to have to change before he could go back to shooting… If he went back to shooting, though you were sure Emily already told them what was going on. “I could never be mad at you for something like this.”

“But we’re not even married. Oh, God, my mom is going to beat my ass--Damien, we’re not even married!”

“Simple solution for that,” Damien said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a distinct velvet box. He dropped down on his knee in front of you, velvet box in hand. “Be my wife.”

“Damien--”

“I had this whole thing planned,” he rambled. “I was going to take you out for dinner and bring you back to where we first met…”

“You were going to bring me to the Planetarium?” you asked. You’d stopped crying tears of relief at this point, exchanging them for tears of joy. You blamed the pregnancy hormones, making you cry more than you had in the entire eight years you’d been with Damien. 

“Yeah,” he played with the box. “Was gonna propose under the night we first met too.”

“You’re a sap.”

“Yeah, but I’m your sap,” he joked, opening the box. “Y/n, these past eight years together have been, simply put, amazing. I want to be able to wake up next to you every single morning and go to sleep next to you every night. I want to be able to make pancakes with you on our days off and always have you as my plus one to family reunions. I want the constant singing in the shower and the stupid mohawk photos you send me while I’m out. I want you, and if you’ll have me… Will you marry me?” 

“Yes!” You pulled him off the floor, throwing your arms around him and kissing him deeply. He slid the ring on your finger, pulling out of the kiss so that you could admire the gem. 

“Do me a favor, leave out the fact that I proposed to you with ripped pants when you’re telling your mom this story.” 

You laughed, craning your neck around to view his underwear still very much on display. “No,” you shook your head. “That’s definitely going to be in the engagement story.”

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[wyofabdoms]

Ten Days - Day Eight

Characters: Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: Javier is shot and refuses to take his antibiotic while recuperating. You get creative and make him a deal that ensures he will take his medicine everyday: one kiss for one pill. It's gonna be a long 10 days.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Major character injury, slow burn, mutually unrequited, angst, swearing, soft and sweet Javi, period appropriate sexism, brief mention of broken Javi

Word Count: 2484

Note: You have a bad day at work and seek out Javi to keep you company.

Read the full series on Ao3

The Friday work day ends early for you and finds you seething as you stomp up the stairs to your apartment carrying two loaded bags, one stuffed with your favorite take out food, the other clinking with multiple bottles of red wine (and one large bottle of whiskey).  

It had been that kind of day.

All you wanted to do was drink yourself into a fuzzy stupor so you could forget the bullshit from today. The second you’re in your apartment, you shuck off your work clothes in the main entryway and pop open a bottle of wine in the kitchen wearing nothing but your bra and underwear.  As you gulp down the first sharp taste of tart alcohol, you wander to your bedroom.  By the time you’ve washed your face, put your hair up out of your face and changed into comfy shorts and a ratty tshirt, your glass is empty.  It’s a good thing tomorrow’s Saturday because you can tell right now you’re probably going to have a major headache in the morning.  You click on your record player and turn up your favorite Bruce Springsteen album, then snuggle into your couch with your food, another full glass and a trashy romance novel.  A few bites into your meal, though, and your train of thought wanders back to your day and you lose your appetite.

How dare they!  How dare they all.  YOU were the one responsible for that intel.  After the shit you’d had to do to track down that punk bartender and get him to talk...no one even bothered to acknowledge it. Not that you required them to stoke your ego and tell you how great you were, it wasn’t like that at all.  It was when you were passed over despite your hard work and someone else completely undeserving earned the praise that infuriated you. It was always that way (most of the time, anyway).  Every single male colleague you worked with always seemed to overlook the fact that, more often than not, you brought things to investigations that might not normally have happened; that you worked as hard as they did...oftentimes harder.  You had to to be successful in a man’s world. You were damn good at your job.  As cliche as it sounded, you often thought it as your woman’s intuition...an idea that many people scoffed at, but you knew was actually a legitimate and important trait.  But today had been more than just the usual workplace sexism.  Once again you had been overlooked as being an integral part of the team.  It happened so often by now that you were still surprised when it stung so much.  Today you had just felt like breaking.  So you had left work early...not even bothering to clock out or finish your paperwork.  

Fuck them!

You couldn’t stop yourself this time.  Tears began to fall again (Christ, when did you become such a crybaby?!?) and you shoved your face into a throw pillow as you sobbed for several minutes, getting the anger and frustration out of your system.  It was so unfair.  And you knew that if you had been born with a penis and were in the same situation, it would be a different story all together.  You also felt a pang of longing: if Javier hadn’t been sidelined and out of commission, you know he would have had your back today.  He was the one exception to the sexism you experience (most of the time).  It had taken some coaching on your part when you had first become partners; he had made his fair share of blunders that had hurt you and been unfair.  But he had always listened when you had called him on his bullshit, when you had explained how the things he had done or said made you feel, explained how they were not fair solely based on the fact that you were female.  Early on he had acknowledged when he was wrong.  He still occasionally did or said something thoughtless, but he usually was quick to recognize when he was wrong and he had inadvertently become your champion when things like today happened.  Though you hated to admit it, when he spoke up to others on your behalf, it made you feel good...although it also enraged you that a man’s voice pointing out your hard work was heard by the other men in a room rather than them all just recognizing it on their own.  Javi would have stood up for you today if he had been there.

Thinking about your partner reminds you that you should probably check in with him before you get too tanked...you definitely don’t want to interact with him after you’ve had as much wine as you were planning to have...and after you’ve been reading things you know you’ll encounter in your book.

You snatch up the bottle of whiskey, not bothering to hunt down his keys and patter down the hall to his apartment, tap, tap, tapping on his door, enjoying the soft buzz the wine was making you feel on the edges of your thoughts, eager to make sure he was set for the evening so that you could get back your own apartment.

As soon as Javi opened the door you realized immediately that you had made several critical errors despite only being one glass of wine in.  His eyes immediately traveled down your body, taking in your exposed neck; it was unusual for you to wear your hair up like this. They roamed further and assessed your t-shirt with hardly any elastic, the collar hanging low and dipping off one shoulder.  Despite the fact that you swam in the material, it was obvious to his keen eye that you were not wearing a bra beneath it.  You started to shuffle a little as his eyes traveled further and raked down your bare legs, his lips curling into a smirk when he saw your bright yellow, fuzzy socks.  You rolled your eyes at his roaming gaze.  My champion...you thought sarcastically.

“Hey!”  You said loudly, snapping your fingers in front of his face a few times then waving your hand in front of your own face, drawing his eyes away from your exposed legs.  “My eyes are up here, Peña. You don’t need to be lookin’ anywhere else.” He shot you a guilty grin, knowing he was caught and you felt some pressure leave your chest.  After his apology last night and the unspoken sweet moment that followed, you were afraid things might be weird between you.  Thankfully, though, things felt ok...until you see the smile drop from his face and his forehead crease in concern.

“What happened?”  He asks.  You pause, confused by what he means.  Then you realize: you had just been sobbing into a pillow in your apartment...no doubt your face looked as puffy and red as it felt.  You held up the bottle of whisky.

“I got passed over for another commendation today.” Your voice was full of false cheeriness, edged in steel and highlighted with fury.  Javi’s eyebrows came together  “Agent Dickhead got it instead.  Want to have a celebratory shot with me?”  

“Sure,” and he stepped back from the doorway to let you in.

***

Javi was appropriately outraged along with you at the injustice of the entire situation as you sat at his kitchen table.  After inviting you in, he had gotten glasses for you both as well as a bowl of chips and you had poured them each a drink. Out of the corner of your eye, you had seen him glance at you to check that your back was turned and you had watched as he knocked back a pill from the bottle next to the sink, keeping his back to you, and making no mention of it.  One shot had turned to two and you both went back and forth between chuckling and spitting ire over for the incompetence of the man who had wrongfully received the recognition that you deserved.  After your partner poses a particularly explicit hypothetical question regarding “Agent Dickhead’s” relationship with his mother that leaves you clutching your sides in a fit of giggles, he sighs.

“Sorry I wasn’t there.  I know you don’t need me or anything like that, that’s not what I mean, but…” he trails off for a moment and fiddles with his glass on the table before finishing.  “...I just wish I could have said something.  You don’t deserve to be treated like shit.”  You sigh too and lean back in your chair.

“Thanks.  I appreciate you saying that.”  You sit in an amicable silence.  Then you shift in your seat, stretching your legs from where you had tucked them up under you  “I should go.  I don’t want to keep you, I just…” your frustration from the day hits you again like a ton of bricks and in the next instant, to your utter horror you are blubbering into your hands, your shoulders shaking, trying not to sob hysterically in front of what you are sure is your mortified partner.  

You hear his chair scrap across the kitchen tile and you feel more than see him kneeling next to you on the floor.  Before you can react to his closeness, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his solid frame.  You think for a moment that you should pull away...but you just can’t. You breath him in as you lay your head against his chest and cry into his shirt, the soft smell of soap and cigarettes giving you something else to focus on besides your hurt and rage and you feel your tears start to subside just a little.  He buries his face in your hair for just a moment, taking a deep breath and releasing it in a heavy sigh, then he props his chin on top of your head, tightening his arms a little bit more around you.  

You stay like that for a while, his arms cocooned around you, you letting him hold you while you cry yourself out.  He’s told you before there is nothing more terrifying to a man than a woman in tears and you know how uncomfortable it makes him feel.  This isn’t the first time you’ve cried in front of him; it’s happened before on a few occasions, but it has never resulted in anything quite so intimate.  He usually slings an arm around your shoulders or simply sits next to you patiently, waiting until all of your tears are spent.  And then there had been that one terrible, dark time when you had found him curled up in the locker room at work at two in the morning, his head clutched in his hands, shoulders shaking, silently sobbing into the wall.  You had never been so frightened of anything as you had been then, seeing him so broken in front of you. You had held him and the two of you had never spoken of it again save for his grunted thanks the following day.  

You close your eyes and allow yourself to feel safe, feel small, feel cared for, even if only for a few moments.  Your breath comes in shallow stutters as your breathing begins to regulate.  Reluctantly, you pull back, sniffling and wiping your nose with the back of your hand.  You touch the wet front of his shirt, chuckling your apologies, embarrassed.  He shakes his head and shrugs in response and you force yourself to look at him.

His eyes are full of something that makes your heart pound.  The longing from previous nights, a reflection of your own hurt, and something that can only be described as adoration.  He brings his hands from around you and frames your face along your jaw, his thumbs carefully tracing the trails your tears have made on your cheeks, wiping away the last of the wet streaks.  

“You ok?”  He gruffs softly, the question reflected in his soft, sweet brown eyes as they search yours.  You can only nod, hypnotized by the incredible tenderness you see in his face.  For all of the resolve you have always had that has kept you from crossing the line with this man, you have never felt so much weakness as you do in this moment.  Every part of your being screams at you to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him; to beg him to touch you, to make love to you.  You know if you did he would oblige you.  He would make you forget how hurt you are by work, make you feel like the most special person in the whole wide world, make you splinter apart under his ministrations.  All you had to do was close your eyes and lean forward…

...Before you can convince yourself to act or not, Javi makes the decision for you.  Cradling your head in his hands, he leans forward, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to your lips.  It lacks the heat of the last time your lips touched, but strikes a perfect balance between chaste and lustful, pressing just long enough to be more than a peck, but not so long that either of you get lost in your desires.  He pulls away after a few tender moments, pausing as he does just millimeters from your face, his eyes open and studying you carefully, taking a moment to breathe in the air from your exhalation, his lips hovering over yours.  Your eyes remain closed, though, unable to look at him for fear of wrapping yourself around him and shoving him to the floor to ravish him.  He lowers his head, his forehead brushing your mouth and he lets out a shaky sigh.  He whispers your name as though casting a spell and you open your eyes, staring at his lowered head until he raises it again.

He looks at you for a moment longer, then rocks back onto his heels and pulls himself up to standing, taking you along with him.  You stand a little too close to each other for just a moment, heat crackling across the small space that separates you, your palms flat on his chest, his hands resting on your elbows before they drop to his sides. He takes a small step back and the raw desire you see in him frightens you.

You mumble your thanks for the company and the drink along with an apology for losing your shit on him.  He waves you off, telling you not to worry about it, never breaking eye contact. You swallow hard and blink before saying goodnight and making your way back to your own apartment, your legs suddenly feeling like they’re made of jelly and your heart pounding so hard you’re amazed he doesn’t hear it all the way down the hall.

Day One 

Day Two 

Day Three

Day Four

Day Five

Day Six

Day Seven

Day Nine

[iwrestlenow]

TITLE: Many More To Die (Chapter 14)

FANDOM: Sanders Sides (Necromancer AU)

SUMMARY: A gift from the past secures the future. Knowledge is our greatest defense.

Or, this time, Logan means it when he says he'll never let go.

SHIPS: Logince (Logan/Roman), Moceit (Patton/Janus) and Dukexiety (Remus/Virgil)

WARNINGS: graphic descriptions of violence and death related grossness (i.e., decomposition and fantasy derived nastiness)

There's an epilogue after this, so sorry it's kinda short--and I'm not kidding, guys, shippy bullshit to follow for the next 739 years.

NOTES: This is based on the gorgeous piece of art by @gretacticdraws that can be found here. I ended up writing a ficlet for it, and then my brain got swallowed up. Breathe at me wrong, and I’ll write more…hell, who am I kidding? I’ll write more anyway because this? Is self indulgent drivel. XD

Also located at AO3 over here.

1023, A.A.

Thomas felt a little bit like he was going insane.

Venturing through the deepest of the forgotten sewer tunnels beneath the palace, he shut his eyes and thought of Nico—his unruly curls, his too wide smile, his infectious laughter.

It wasn't his imagination—he heard it echo, somewhere worlds away, bright as the sun.

The grief knotted tight in his chest for an instant before it began to loosen again, bleeding comfort into the raw places in his heart.

They keep the Vigil. He reminded himself. Outlaw wouldn't lie to you.

Taking a deep breath, he quickened his pace.

Once he reached it—a break in the tunnel, where the unfinished pipe sharply cut off into stone and earth, Thomas knelt before the spot where he'd buried the parcel that Outlaw—Josiah Crofter—sent him.

A simple wooden box containing a vial of ashes and a single thread.

“You know what the Vigil is: our funeral rite, our means of keeping the dead alive in the worlds beyond. The Necromata got no souls, so memory's all we have. So we lay their body to rest, and the memories...trinkets, letters, clothing...we give to the funeral pyre. One that never ceases burning.”

Reaching into his belt, Thomas pulled out a dagger.

“When the fire dies, ashes are collected from the freshest embers and kept—and every year, they are added to a fresh pyre. Ashes are collected. The cycle repeats. The fire always burns...so long as the Necromata hold the flint and steel, the Vigil will continue.”

Gritting his teeth, Thomas lay the dagger against his palm, took a breath—and drew the blade against his skin with firm, even pressure.

“But the power of the Vigil is stronger than that. A secret, long kept by our people...that the Vigil don't just safeguard life after death.”

The skin yielded beneath the blade, weeping a garish line of crimson.

“It can safeguard life itself.”

Thomas bit his lip at the sting, but made a fist over the little mound of earth before him.

“The vial I gave you—the embers of your beloved's Vigil, a single thread from the handkerchief you gave me, stained with his blood. Buried 'neath your palace, you join us in the Vigil's keep...offer it blood and a blessing, and the Sacred Souls will let your beloved keep yours in turn.”

He watched his blood hit the dirt, little drops of red catching kernels of earth on their surface.

“The living remember the dead to keep them alive...so it goes when the dead remember the living.”

“For our sons, my love.” Thomas whispered. “For them, and them alone, keep my Vigil.”

The drops of blood sank into the earth so abruptly it startled him.

He heard his husband's laughter again—barely an echo, worlds away.

Even as his tears began to fall, Thomas felt himself smile.

********** 1033, A.A.

THOMAS.

It didn't feel like coming back to life—it felt like remembering.

The heartbeat that eluded his thoughts, the breath that danced on the edge of his consciousness, thoughts and reason and existence that lay just on the tip of his tongue.

A body to live, of course, how had he forgotten? Eyes to open...yes, certainly...

...well, that was a little bit harder. Something was wrong, terribly wrong...

That was when Thomas realized that his body hurt—everything hurt.

“...I may be mortal, but I am still a Weaver...with power over life and death.”

Somehow, over the sudden din, Thomas heard the choked sound of someone unable to breathe. It was a sound he vaguely recognized—a sound that chilled his blood, which already felt strange moving through his veins...chill, sluggish...

THOMAS.

...Nico?...

FOR OUR SON...KEEP THE VIGIL.

Thomas finally managed to open his eyes, head slowly rolling to the side.

The first thing he saw was the door of his bedchamber shattering. A hound swiftly followed, a massive creature with glowing blue eyes that made a beeline for one of the royal guard. Half paralyzed, half fascinated, he watched the animal's jaws close around the guard's throat and his head shake, tearing flesh...

Ichor, black and nauseating, spurted from the guard's throat instead of blood.

On the animal's heels came...yes, that was a heart healer, picking through the splintered wood with a look of horror on his face. A mage came to his side, a prison mage from the look of his robes.

He heard swords clashing—a gleeful cry of triumph. Oh, Remus, his beloved slice of chaos personified...

If Remus could bellow like that, however, he could breathe.

Thomas's eyes finally found the middle of the room—a chair, Roman's body slumped in unconsciousness.

THOMAS.

“I know.” Thomas croaked, struggling to sit up. Every one of his joints felt stiff and brittle, his throat sandpaper rasping one face to another.

Still, he got to his feet. Still, he stumbled over to where Roman sat, reaching out a too thin, too gnarled hand to pat his cheek.

“Ro...Ro...Ro—damn it. Roman!”

Roman stirred, his eyes slowly blinking open with a moan.

“...not...Ro...Roman...”

“What? I don't understand...”

Roman's head lolled to one side, his features paling. Thomas followed his gaze...

He knew the soldier—Colonel Mori, the man he'd barred from that young necromancer's presence once he'd realized what had been done to the poor child.

A poor child sprawled on his back—and Thomas couldn't be sure how, but he knew, he felt it in that place within his chest that tingled when Remus learned a new way to blow something up. He knew it in that place behind his brain that lit up when Roman was about to burst into his chambers with some new poem or story.

The part of him branded father strained towards whatever it was within Roman that was branded son, and Thomas knew it was in the wrong body.

“Rest.” he reassured the boy in Roman's body, patting his shoulder. “I'll be back in a moment.”

Straightening, his limbs grew looser as anger swelled in his chest...no, rage.

Rage for the young life that had been stolen. Rage for his son, who lay dying on the ground—rage for a man that he hated for what he'd done to someone Thomas respected and trusted.

Rage, even, for his broken bedchamber door, and the bodies falling all around the room. Rage filled him, revitalized him, resurrected him from the last dying embers of the grave.

Walking up behind an unsuspecting Mori, Thomas reached out and, without a single shred of regret, grabbed the man from behind to pull him close.

“I should have let the executioner do this ten years ago.” he spat in Mori's ear before he gripped his chin in one hand, secured the other at the right angle, and wrenched with a cry of fury that only died when he heard the satisfying snap of bone and sinew.

He swore, as Mori fell, that he could hear another voice alongside his—no longer worlds away, but so close he could nearly smell the bright citrus of his favorite cologne.

“I'm sorry, my love—but today is not our day.” Thomas couldn't stop himself from whispering. “Wait for me?”

Nico's laughter rang right in his ear, clear and true, before it receded back into the worlds beyond the reach of the living once again.

Roman.

Remembering in the absence of two men's anger, Thomas fell to his knees. The body before him was too still, the eyes glassy and distant.

“Roman...Roman, please!...”

“Your Majesty.”

Thomas turned sharply. At some point, the din had died and silence fell heavy over the room. A young cadet knelt beside him, blood and ichor staining his clothing and his cheek. His eyes were wide and haunted.

“No.” Thomas breathed as the cadet looked to the body on the floor and reached out to gently close its eyes. “No, no no no...”

Arms wrapped around Thomas from behind. Tears dampened his neck—blindly, shaking, Thomas reached behind him to run soothing fingers through Remus's hair.

“Logan, he—he has a Claim.” Remus stammered through deep sobs. “He—he can't be dead. Not when Logan can't...when he can't...”

Thomas didn't understand, but as he glanced towards the chair where Roman's body had been slumped, he watched Roman stand slowly, shuffling towards them, and kneel carefully on the other side of Roman's corpse.

“The Claim is bound to flesh, and it suspends when the soul leaves the body.” the necromancer in Roman's body replied—Logan, his eyes cold and hard and nothing at all like his dear, passionate son.

“He wasn't supposed to come for me.” he continued, running a hand over Roman's hair, his voice too flat, too lifeless. “I warned him...”

Logan trailed off, his eyes widening. Something dangerously like hope sparked in Thomas's chest.

Before he could even draw breath, Logan slammed a fist into the corpse's chest.

********** Knowledge.

“Logan, what the fuck?”

Knowledge is how.

Logan planted his palm in the middle of Roman's chest.

He covered his hand with his other, firmly meshed his fingers.

It is our best weapon...and our best defense.

Throwing all his weight behind it, Logan drove his hands into Roman's breastbone, establishing a steady rhythm.

“Logan, you gotta stop...”

“Virgil, move.”

Remus's voice, deafening silence. Logan kept his gaze focused on his hands in Roman's chest, tried to keep his vision clear so he could do it right.

The way Roman taught him, as his brother taught him.

“Stop.”

Remus's voice. Logan stopped.

Roman's chest barely lifted, then sank.

“Go.”

Logan resumed the compressions. A rhythm, a count...

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Stop. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Stop.

The vital breath—a means to raise the dead without magic.

The cycle continued. Logan gave up his soul with every thrust of the heel of his hand, let it fly into the ether, let it burn to nothing and filled himself instead with Remus's brisk instruction, with the drumbeat of the pulse he desperately tried to tattoo into Roman's chest--

“Logan, stop!”

Logan stopped. Someone was coughing, spasming, rolling to the side...

With an animalistic wail of agony, Logan flung himself around Roman, and followed his soul out of his body.

********** When Roman came to, he was hacking, his lungs burning, his whole body feeling...

...he lost the feeling as dizziness overcame him, and he was suddenly holding Logan instead of being held, the smaller man wracked with wheezing, desperate gasps for air. Everything still felt chaotic, off-kilter...

Chaos. The Animator.

This time, when Roman gathered him close, Logan didn't rear back. He burrowed hard into Roman's chest, shaking like a leaf, and clung so hard to Roman's shoulders he was certain there would be half moons left behind of Logan's nails on skin. Holding him tight, Roman surveyed the rest of his father's bedchamber.

There were bodies everywhere, many of them untouched. There was some blood, but most of the black stuff that filled the air with the smell of rotting death had been spilled from bodies under the Animator's control that were so long dead that their blood had turned to sludge—and now that they were inanimate again, in varying stage of decomposition as they lay, mutilated.

The only people left standing were the victors.

Emile and Remy, wrapped around each other, Emile strangely calm while Remy's solid black eyes took it all in with an equally strange, haunted expression.

Virgil and Remus, side by side, kneeling there before him. Virgil was visibly swaying, but Remus looked perfectly serene—blood and ichor dotting his face, smearing his hands, a rock in the middle of the rapids.

Janus, standing in the middle of the room, equally stained by battle and yet no less resplendent for it. By his side, still in animal form was Patton, calmly licking the blood off one massive paw. Janus had his fingers barely stroking Patton's head, and the side of his face layered with scales was spattered heavily with that same combination of red blood and black rot.

As Janus met his gaze and smiled, Roman felt certain in that moment that Janus had surrendered to Patton the human portion of his dual drake's soul.

Then there was his father, just at his elbow—somehow beautifully, miraculously, alive and watching him with a watery smile. He still looked...well, terrible, features still too thin and leathery, his pallor still that of a corpse dessicated by magic, but his eyes were open and sparkling with real, vibrant life.

“Hold on,” Roman breathed as he smiled back at his father and pulled Logan impossibly closer, “don't let go.”

Logan laughed, then hiccuped, pressing his face to Roman's neck. For the first time in ten years, Roman felt himself draw a true breath: free, clear, and clean as Logan clung to him tight and meant the words as he said them.

“I never have. I never will.”

[saharamae21]

Never Ran Smooth (Part 14)

Hey guys! Thanks for all the love and support! I loved writing this chapter and couldn’t wait to post it... Enjoy!

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

For you, in my respect, are all the world.

The night past quickly and the next morning, we got straight to work. I sat next to Pope as JJ and Kie bickered back and forth. I smiled at how cute he looked while he annoyed her. Love really blinds you quickly.

“You guys are sickening sweet,” I heard Pope groan as he looked back and forth between John B and I. Both of us looked like lovesick puppies, staring at their love like no one else was there.

“Have you ever thought about telling Kie how you feel?” I asked giving him a quick shove with my shoulder.

“That doors closed,” Pope said. “Before you were around JJ tried really hard to open that door. Even John B tried. She just doesn’t see us like that.”

“You never know until you try,” I said and looked back at JJ. “I never thought he would like me. I’m part of a whole community that he’s grown to detest, yet I can’t help thinking that he’s in love with me.”

“Thinking?” Pope questioned me.

“He hasn’t said I love you,” I said back, thinking about the first time I said it to him. “To be fair, we just started dating and maybe he doesn’t feel that way yet. I’m not in any rush for him to tell me.”

Pope gave me a small smile. I could tell he was happy for JJ and I. Everything I had said was true, I was in no rush. This was the first time that I had ever felt this way and I wanted to savory and draw it out as long as possible. JJ noticed me smiling at him and gave me a little wink. Even that was enough to make my heart flutter.

After everything was prepared, we filed into the van and took off for a pawn shop. I listened to JJ continue to fight with Kie, even after we were out of the van.

“Hell of a job melting it down, Dr. Frankenstein,” JJ said with an attitude.

“Like you could've done better,” Kie retorted, both of them clearly upset with each other.

“I could have. I took a welding class,” JJ said, both of them getting in each others faces. I grabbed JJ’s hand to calm him down. John B helped to diffuse the situation at hand and we made our way inside. “How did I get this job anyway?”

“'Cause you're the best liar,” Pope said as we opened the door. Then someone caught my eye. I said I would join them inside in a second. I saw Topper’s mom walking up to me from across the street. What was she doing over here?

“Savannah!” she greeted me.

“Hi Mrs. Thornton,” I said.

“You really need to stop hanging out with those lowlifes,” she said, eyeing the van. “I can’t believe your dad paid off that deviants restitution for ruining our boat. Keep hanging out with them and your whole family will go bankrupt.”

“I’m sorry, my dad did what?” I asked, thinking I must’ve misheard her or something.

“He paid for our boat,” she said. “I thought you knew?”

My heart swelled for a minute as I told her I had just forgotten. Why would my dad do that? I said my goodbyes and made my way into the shop. I watched as JJ tried to pawn off the melted down piece of gold. The clerk argued back and forth for a while, running a series of tests while JJ sassed her. I watched as JJ gave her this sob story about how his mom tried to melt the bar down. She walked away to talk to someone about what they could offer us and finally settled on 70k. They sent us out and on our way to the warehouse because they didn’t have the cash laying around in the store. We all filed back into the van and I sat down next to JJ. We drove a few miles and I let out a yawn before laying my head gently on his shoulder, zoning out while the others talked.

“So they keep money out here?” Pope asked skeptically.

“That's what she said,” JJ said in response. Then he let out a small chuckle. “That's what she said.”

“You’re such a child,” I said with a giggle. I closed my eyes and felt JJ play with a strand of my hair.

“How are you so tired?” he asked me, ignoring everyone else in the vehicle. “You slept all night.”

“I don’t know. I sleep so nicely next to you,” I muttered back. In reality, I was tired, but I was also confused. Why would my dad do that after everything that’s happened? He’s planning something. I opened my eyes to see him glancing down at me affectionately. Everything seemed perfect at that moment, until I heard the siren behind us. I sprung up and helped JJ hide the gold and his belongings. Why are we even getting pulled over? Why was there a cop all the way out here? Then it hit me. We’re being set up.

Everything began happening so quickly. A gun cocked and we looked forward to see a man pointing a shot gun right at John B’s face. He told us all to put our hands up. He told John to get out and let all of us out. I could feel my heart beating in my chest as I got out of the van. I watched as JJ told the dude to calm down. I was shaking as he pointed the gun at JJ. We all got down into the ditch and laid there. I was so scared and as the man dug around in the van. Then John B got up slowly. We begged him not to be a hero, but he got into the robber’s backseat and waited. The man found the gold and walked slowly back to his car, threatening us the whole way. Once he got in, John wrestled him for the gun. As soon as he got the gun, JJ was up and running. I got up quickly after him, wanting to help, but more importantly wanting to protect JJ. I watched him get punched down and went in swinging. I landed a few punches before getting nailed in the ribs. I fell hard, but the fight was over quickly. There was six of us and one of him. He didn’t stand a chance. Pope got the gold and then we pulled his face mask off. “I know this piece of shit!” JJ yelled. A rage overtook him as this became personal.

“Listen, I couldn't hurt any single one of y'all-” before the man could finish his sentence, JJ beat him with the butt of the gun.

“JJ!” I yelled grabbing his arm, but he shook me off roughly. He proceeded to grab the man’s license and inspect it thoroughly.

“We got one last stop,” he said and stormed back to the van. “Let's go see where this son of a bitch lives.”

The man threatened us over and over as we got into our van and drove off. JJ drive quickly and even recklessly. We pulled up to this rundown trailer home. I watched as JJ stormed out of the van and into the house, John B following closely behind. I wanted to go after him too, but Pope told me not to. This was a new side to JJ that I had never seen before. He was so overcome with rage that I was scared for what would happen next. When they finally came out of the house, I ran up to him.

“All right, so we're looking at five grand each for reparations for putting us through that bullshit. Sorry about that, y'all,” JJ said nonchalantly. I watched as everyone instantly realized what JJ had done and tried to talk some sense into him. Then John B and JJ instantly got into it. JJ got into the van and waited for us. He looked at me and waited for me to follow suit, but I couldn’t. This was wrong. He got out of the van.

“We're sick of your shit,” John B. said firmly.

“Oh, my shit?” JJ asked.

“Yes. Your pulling guns on people shit,” Kie said.

“You acting like a maniac-” Pope tried to add.

“Okay, Pope, I took the fall for you, man! Know how much I owe because of you?” I listened to him demand Pope pay him back now. I listened to him become unreasonable.

“JJ!” I yelled getting his attention. “You don’t owe any money, I handled it. It’s done! Stop treating your friends like this!”

“I don’t need your money, princess!” he snapped at me. My heart sank as princess became an insult again. “God, everything is the same with you kooks. Money, money, money!”

“That’s not true and you know it,” I said, tears filling my eyes as he lashed out at me.

“I could’ve handled it! You look at me like I’m something to fix!” he screamed at me. “I’m not a project for you Savannah! You don’t get to just fix me because your bored and have no friends!”

“JJ!” I yelled, tears streaming down my cheeks. I began to get mad at how he was treating me. I couldn’t control my emotions and finally yelled back at him.“Is that what you think of me? Is that what you think I’m doing? Does I love you mean nothing to you?”

“You may think you’re in love with me, but you’re just like every other kook. You look down on us. I don’t need your money. I don’t need your help. I certainly don’t need your pity. I’m not some mistake you can just fix,” he said coldly. “And because you treat me this way, I will never love you.”

He turned his back on us and walked quickly away. He went off on his own. I sank to my knees and let out little sobs as Kie wrapped her arms around me. I just crouched down with my face in my hands and bawled.

After I composed myself a little, we got back in the van and went back to the chateau. Everyone was silent as we parked the car and got out. I forced a smile onto my face and decided that it was time to go back home.

“I’ll head out first,” I said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear nervously.

“Are you going to be okay?” Kie asked. I could see in her eyes that she was genuinely worried about me. I nodded, fiddling with my thumbs a little.

“I’ll see you all soon,” I said and walked to my car. I gave them all a small wave and began to mentally prepare myself for what was to come.

The drive home was shorter than I remembered. The driveway no longer seemed so long. I stared up at the mansion I lived in and let out a sigh. I turned off the engine and checked my appearance in the mirror. My eyes were red and puffy. I looked like a mess. Still. I gathered all the courage I had and got out of the car. I opened up the front door and walked in.

“I’m home,” I said in a hoarse voice. My mother came running into the entrance. She hugged me so tightly and cry. She begged me to never leave like that again. I felt bad for everything I put her through. Then my dad walked into the room. I walked up slowly and began to apologize for my actions, but before I could finish them my cheek burned. I fell to my knees and let some tears slip out.

“You embarrassed us. You disappeared. You cost us a fortune. Get your shit together Savannah,” he said. “I didn’t raise a failure.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” I talked back for the first time in my life. Then he said the only words that could make me want to die inside.

“And because you believe that, I will never love you.”

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Tag List : @jjmaybangme @thebendslikebendover @jellyfishbeansontoast @justcallmesams

[peakyblinderswhore]

Maybe some Shelby sister angst with tommy please?

A/N: hey anon! you know, i was worried about writing angst as i thought i had almost no idea what i could angst about; then i remembered that i wrote that finn imagine that was hella angsty and i just went with my gut. i hope you enjoy!

i also listened to this song, cause it was playing and suddenly i had the urge to write along to it. it definitely wouldn’t have been the same without it.

(the song is supposed to be romantic (i think) but i’m not using that side of it  — that would be so weird  — i’m using the desperation side of it. It’s a good song nonetheless).

W/C: 1.6k

“I’ll still be here waiting for you to answer my call,” Tommy says to you.

Rolling your eyes and crossing your arms stubbornly across your chest, you say, “I don’t need your help, Tommy.”

Tommy stands abruptly from his chair behind his desk. Often, you thought his desk made him look powerful and you also thought that was also why Tommy liked it so much; it made him feel important.

“You will answer when I call you —”

“Or what?” You shout, your hands balled in fists at your side, before whispering, “It isn’t supposed to be this hard.”

Tommy is standing, eyebrows raised, his arm held mid-air and finger pointing at you across the room and his mouth is left hanging. The air in the room stood still, waiting for him to make the first move. You refused to say anything but your face displayed raw emotions.

Instead of saying anything, his arm falls to his side and he straightens his posture. Your eyes were full of tears threatening to spill every second that you took a breath. Your chest was rising and falling harshly, displaying your distress in ways that you couldn’t have verbally explained.

“What’s on your mind?” Tommy says, looking down at his desk, avoiding eye contact with you.

You laugh, hysterically.

He was playing dumb, like he didn’t know why you were about to break down in his office.

“I’m your sister, Tommy. And you betrayed that trust, the — the bond that we used to have,” you stutter.

Your hands clench and un-clench continuously, trying to keep yourself from throwing something at him. He’s contemplating what to say to you next, trying to plan every move he makes from now on, like a pathetic game of chess with your mind. He was trying to figure out what you were thinking and then how to dodge whatever you were going to accuse him of. He’d heard that kind of tone before. He could also see it in your face — nothing makes you this angry.

Adamantly, Tommy clenches his jaw and says, “How?”

That one word. The one word that would later be the demise of you. How?

You didn’t know what to say; you didn’t want to relive those moments of your life; they were horrible moments that you knew would make you crack every time you thought about them all over again. But how could you avoid them?

“You know what you did, Thomas. The second you did it, you knew what you had done and you would have to face as a result of your actions,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you held back tears. Closing your eyes, you let a tear slip, one that shed pain, anger and upset. You took a deep breath and continued to stare at him, waiting for his response.

“I can’t live with being by myself,” you say, “and you ripped that away from me, Tommy.”

He doesn’t say anything to you.

“I can’t get you off of my back. I couldn’t,” you let out a sob, “past tense. I suppose I’m alright now, eh?”

He speaks up, “Now, after what?”

Without thinking, you scream your response at him, “After you killed him, Tommy!”

Your face is red, blotchy as a result of the crying and eyes slowly swelling up. Your chest was tight and your throat raw, you didn’t know what else to do.

“I’ve been putting us first. Our family, the Shelby’s. Us first, that’s what I’ve been doing. He had to go.”

Your face falls, your legs are weak and you collapse onto a chair in the office.

“Oh, Tommy,” you mumble, “Tommy what have you done…”

Confused, Tommy looks at you, the first time he has since you started shouting at him, “What do you mean?”

Your hair looked like it was static, instead, you had only been sitting with your head in your hands for the past few days. Even Ada, who was well known for hiding away her and her newborn son from the rest of you couldn’t get through to you. For days you laid in bed, silently crying yourself to sleep, barely remembering to bathe yourself and feed yourself. It would've been so much easier to forget it all but you knew that you couldn’t let yourself deteriorate. Not considering the circumstances.

“The difference,” you begin as you lift your head to stare at him, “between Heaven and Hell, Tommy… is you.”

Tommy frowns, bringing his eyebrows together in a way that made you think that he was going to let out his anger, like he wasn’t going to hold back on you.

“I can’t live with being by myself,” you shake your head in disbelief, “and that’s the part of me that really needs your help.”

“Then let me help,” he says, taking a step towards you, “let me help you.”

You rush to your feet, and hold and arm out, palm facing him and insisting that he doesn’t come any closer.

“No further, Thomas. You’ve already done enough.”

All of a sudden, Tommy bursts out in anger, “What could I have done that was any worse than what he was doing to our family. Our company, our legitimate company!”

His arms were thrown up in exasperation, his voice was projected across the room in an unpleasant manner, “Shout at me all you want, Thomas, but you can never take back what you did. I hoped — prayed even — that you wouldn’t take it this far, no matter what he did.”

You take in a deep breath, “And don’t bother mentioning ‘our’ legitimate company because no matter how hard you try, Thomas, you’ll always fall back into the same old pattern. The company was never ours, you get more than your fair share and John struggled to put shoes on his kids after Martha died and yet no money went his way, none. You had to wait for him to get desperate. Nothing comes easy here, Thomas, you of all people should know that.”

Your lip is trembling, your voice travels in warbles, barely staying stable.

“The money has always been split evenly.”

You pick up a vase that Lizzie had poorly placed in an attempt to try and decorate Thomas’ office and lobbed it at him. He managed to duck in time but you were even more infuriated by him.

“Bullshit — and you know it! Who paid for a dress for an informant to wear, Thomas, hm? Who?”

Thomas pauses, “She was my wife.”

“Not then she wasn’t. You knew what she was and yet you continued with it, we almost fell down to the ground, we would’ve been dead by now, Thomas!”

He grits his teeth, refraining from shouting at you and agitating you more; he says, “My wife, he emphasises, “took a bullet for me, you don’t know what that’s like,” his eyes widen, his arms are loose limbs trying to tell his story, “to be left alone with a child, without his mother.”

“Except you underestimate me, Thomas. Every single time I step into this room, it’s about you. What about me, eh?” Your voice is hoarse and you’re fighting to not lose your voice, “What if that was me, what about my child, what am I going to do then, when I’m left without its father?”

Breaking his demeanour, he shouts, “Except it’s not, is it? I struggle every single day without her by my side, Charlie doesn’t understand and I can’t explain that to him, can I?”

“Naive, Tommy, that’s what you are. Your wife took a bullet for you and left her son without a mother, granted it’s not her fault, but you see, somehow, in some twisted way, me and her have something in common.”

You don’t wait for his response, he’s agitated and you know you’re pushing him with every insult that you hurl at him.

“Me and Grace…” he’s taking long strides, most likely to throw you out of his office, towards you yet you continue, “our children are left with a single parent, both incidents because of you. You attract chaos, Thomas, and you know it.”

Thomas’s stride falters halfway through the room, “You don’t have a child.”

“Well, hey, at least Grace got to meet her son and Charlie to meet his mother.”

He’s standing, lost in thought.

“Ada can tell Karl that Freddie died of pestilence.”

Thomas still stands, in a daze, trying to process what you had said.

“And nobody knows where Esme is with John’s kids anymore.”

Stepping towards the door, you turn the handle, “At least you haven’t fucked it up for Arthur, right, Tommy?”

You take a deep breath and say, “He was never enough for you, Tommy, but he was for me. And now look where we are.”

“Wait.”

You gulp, wishing for this to be the last time that you see Tommy and remain so that your back is facing him, “For what, Tommy, so that you can tell me how you’re about to fuck up Finn’s life too? I’m not interested.”

His words stumble out of his mouth, “I’ll keep in touch, send you money. Even write you a letter, if you’re going to walk out.”

Turning, you simply say, “Not if I can help it.”

And walk out of the office.

He doesn’t call after you; you’re not sure if you wanted him to or not, but you knew that it was better if you kept on walking no matter what.

No matter what.

[crazyfreckledginger]

Batboys x Reader - “Fear”

Your arrival in the mansion has made you forget about what you were put through, quickly growing attached to all your new brothers. Slowly, you were starting to adjust after your incident. Until the Joker makes you have a stepback.

Requested on Wattpad: “Can I request a story for Batfamily x reader Age:8 She/He is captured by Joker and while her brothers and dad save her she gets infected with joker and scarecrow gas, and almost dies”

A/N: Hope you like it, sorry it took so long, but now my exams are over and I can write again yaaay!!

"This is my room?" Her eyes went wide as she stared up at Dick. 

"Yup," he nodded. 

"B-but it's so big, and other people might need a home, oh, am I sharing with other people?" There were conflicted feelings in her eyes. 

"Nope, you have this beautiful room aaall to yourself." He placed the few belongings she had on her bed. 

(Y/N) timidly felt how soft the mattress was before sitting on it.

"What if there are bad men hiding in the closets -- or under the furniture." Slowly, she hugged her legs, suddenly feeling self conscious. 

"I'll check for you okay?" 

"But what if they come during the night?" She was hugging her pillow now. 

"My room is two doors down, just run as fast as your legs can go and I'll protect you." Richard smiled reassuringly.

****

It must had been a month since the girl  had settled into Wayne Manor and she had grown attached to her brothers, Damian more or less.

She bit her tongue as she tried to keep her balance on the pavement, half of her hovering above the road. 

"Careful," Tim clasped his hand with hers and slowly nudged her back to his side. 

"Where are we going now, Timtim?" The girl skipped to stay beside him. As soon as her eyes caught a glimpse of the marble building on the other side of the road. (Y/N) groaned. "Please tell me we're not going for more money, there are so many people and it's not good to take money from others." The girl peered up at her older brother with puppy eyes. 

"Huh? Oh you mean the bank, no we're not going in there, it's our money they keep in here as well. We're just picking up a few groceries and then we're heading back to the Manor." He stopped her in front of the small grocerie shop to pull out his wallet.

"But wouldn’t make that their money?" She scrunched her nose in confusion. The girl was met with a blank stare. 

"Ask Jason next time you see him." 

"Okay," she grinned. Her eyes locked on a dog that was nearing the pair. 

"Okay, let's go in so we can be out quickly." He gripped his wallet and pushed the door open.

"Aww, puppy." (Y/N) smiled, crouching down as it cautiously sniffed her, completely ignoring the door closing behind her brother.

"Don't me scared 'kay? I only wanna cuddle you." The furball's tail started waggling rapidly, enjoying the small scratches she was inflicting on his forehead and behind his ear. 

His mouth fell open, tongue springing free, thoroughly enjoying the treatment he was receiving. 

A loudly explosion pierced through their ears as debris collided with a building on their side of the curb.

"Timmy!" She screeched, crouching down and covering her ears. The dog whined and rushed off. 

"Well well, who do we have here?" A voice chuckled mischievously.

"H-huh?" 

**** "What was that?" Tim scanned the small grocery shop.

"It sounded like an explosion!" The scared man behind the counter pressed a button under his till.

"Where-" 

The young man's heart nearly dropped: (Y/N) wasn't here with him. He cursed under his breath, racing towards the door as a loud metal screech roared in the room. Bars were falling from in front of the main door in case of a robbery. 

"No, no no!" The Wayne grunted, watching it fall tightly shut as he opened the windowed door. 

"Open it!!" He turned to the cashier. 

"I-I can't until the cops get here!"

*****

"Who was robbing the bank?" His fingers pulled at his strands of hair cascading down his forehead and teasing at his eyes. 

"Joker." Dick murmured.

"This is so much fucking BULLSHIT!" Jason threw hands around.

"How long before you track her down?" Damian turned towards his father who was typing away at the Batcomputer.

"Soon, it's been narrowed down to two locations." 

"Hurry up so we can go!" Red Hood ushered.

****

Slowly, her eyes opened, they felt heavy and unfocused. Her body was numb and her head ached against the cold, damp ground.

"D-daddy?" She sobbed, feeling the pain from each breath she took. A gasp escaped her as she finally realised something around her mouth and nose, which had previously muffled her sounds. It contained green gas and she was instinctively breathing it in. 

Since when is air green??

Her arms and legs were tightly bound by rope that was digging into her skin. Squirming only made it worse. 

"Aah, the little Wayne brat is finally awake, I was wondering how long you would take, I didn't hit you THAT hard, you're only of use to me alive." An insane cackle spread through the room. Her heartbeat picked up widely, making the pain even more unbearable at her poor attempt at respiring oxygen. 

Small tears fell off her cheeks to the ground as she distinguished a figure in the dim lit room. 

"You recognise me?" He teased, hovering over her restrained figure on the floor. She was too terrorised seeing the face of the man that she could only half recognise from when her brothers switched the new channel as soon as she entered the room.

Cowering inside herself, as much as her restrains enabled her to, she painfully watched as the mad man towered over her.

Abruptly, he pulled off the gas mask to watch her cough.

"Good, now the gas can sink into your lungs and show you loaaads of wonderful things." He snorted. 

Terrorised, it felt like her throat and lungs tied a knot to stop her from breathing all together. 

She shut her eyes as tightly as she could, hoping this was a nightmare, wishing she would wake up from it and having one of her brothers were soothingly combing through her hair, cooeing and reassuring her that everything was alright. That they were there for her -- but this felt all too real to be up to her imagination. 

Glass breaking, thumping, groans, and yells teased at her ears, she heard, but could not listen. Her entire body was failing her, shutting down, purely mechanical. 

Every thing felt distant, like her consciousness was leaving her body, her skin was burning up but she felt so cold inside, what happened to her? 

After the torture her body was inflicting upon itself, her limbs went limp. Eyes fell shut, blocking out her unfocused and dazed senses. 

Finally, the physical pain morphed into numbness, but the poor girl didn't know that her inner demons awakened, and the emotional pain was just starting.

****

"How is she, Alfred?" He rushed into the hospital, worry and concern threading at his face. 

"She's... alive," the butler turned towards him with a sorrowful look. 

"Her heartbeat is stable, but we don't know when she'll wake up." Dick muttered, head barely hanging from his shoulders as his attention stayed glued to the floor, elbows on either knees. 

"Joker has disappeared again, we have to make sure this doesn't happen again." Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose.

"That's all good and well but-" 

"Jason, not now," Tim interjected, shooting a glare his way as his older brother scoffed. 

Dick stood up, sighing deeply and leaning against her bed.

Her heartbeat was above normal, clearly showing that she was either stressed, scared, or excited. However, her contorted, painful facial expressions showed that she was nowhere near that last one. 

A single tear formed in the corner of her eye, dropping down towards her ear. His thumb rubbed it away, but the action only made his heart break. 

(Y/N) was so cheerful around them, worming into their hearts and making a little home for herself. She was just a child, and she'd gone through so much in so little timex she didn't deserve it, none of his brothers deserved it.

A sob escaped her and all eyes tore to her. 

She did not budge.

How could she still be asleep and crying? How much more painful could this be for her? 

The heart monitor shot up, making alarmingly rapid noises. Damian, who had previously been quiet walked over to her bed and leaned over it, the others followed suit. 

"P-please," the tiniest of whimpers escaped her and her eyes finally opened. The child sat up and crawled as far from the figures as she could instinctively.

"(Y/N), it's okay, it's Dick, everyone is hear as well," the eldest robin soothed, holding her hand and staring at her affectionately. His beautiful eyes held hers and upon recognising them, she accepted his firm hand, being pulled in his tight embrace. The others grouped around her in relief. 

She was shivering, suspected of still being under the fear gas. 

"We're here, and we're not letting you go until you're ready." Tim mumbled. 

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[lovelybarnes]

gone world- peter p.

pairing: peter parker x reader

warnings: death

-

PETER PARKER

warning: this is sad, mentions of death

my dog is snoring aaah she's so cute

-

y/n stark didn't shed a tear when tony stark died.

she had been trained to be strong, and that was what she was going to be. so she shut off all of her emotions, burying them so deep down, she was practically numb.

she held herself together and kept a calm face, as she kneeled down in front of her dying father, smiling at him as pepper and peter cried behind her.

"it's okay, dad. i promise you i will take care of them," she had promised, and he had smiled at her weakly, his smile reaching his eyes.

"i'm so proud of you. i'm sorry i never told you that enough."

y/n noted how hard it was for her father to continue talking.

"i love you, y/n. you- you make me so-" tony paused, struggling to breathe. "happy, and-"

tony wheezed again painfully, and y/n shook her head.

"it's okay dad. you can let go."

tony stark took his last breath surrounded by the people who loved him.

at her father's funeral, y/n ignored the emotions that needed to be let out. she ignored how badly she needed to mourn for her father to protect her little sister, and for peter, who she knew was hurting tremendously at losing another father figure in his life.

she talked about her father in front of his friends, and made them laugh, just like tony had told her he wanted.

at hearing the news that natasha was gone, y/n had completely shut off, not wanting to feel the pain of losing her best friend.

she couldn't even feel it when steve left, barely acknowledging the fact her second dad had left her.

instead, she stood by peter and morgan, holding both their hands and being both their shoulders through their pain, never once asking them to be hers.

y/n read morgan bedtime stories, giving her endless hugs, and made her favorite food, attempting the almost impossible task of trying to make her feel better.

she had given pepper space, and then let her talk to her about anything, making pepper laugh even through her tears.

and she had been there for peter. every second of every day.

she was there each time he needed her; sneaking into his room as stealthily as possible and calming his panic attacks, running her fingers through his hair, and whispering things that made all bad thoughts leave his mind.

and through all that, she had not let herself feel an ounce of pain over the loss of her father, much less the rest of her family.

and it weighed on her, all the emotions she wouldn't let come out made her life hard and being happy impossible.

no one noticed, too busy mourning. she didn't mind, it made it easier for her to hide, to be numb.

she held herself together after losing three of the most important people in her life; deciding to push away much it hurt to lose natasha, her sister, who took care of her and was always there for her since y/n was a child. the person who trained her to be the fighter she was.

she ignored the pain of losing steve, who had taught her about the past, comforting her through breakups and baking her awful cookies, being more of a dad that tony was at times.

instead, she filled her mind with plans to distract her family. she taught herself recipes to surprise morgan with, baked poptarts for thor, and worked with bruce, trying her best to make everyone but her happy.

on one of the nights where all the avengers decided to come over, while putting morgan to bed after reading her a story, her phone vibrated with a text from peter; which she didn't need to read to know he was in her room.

she kissed morgan goodnight, and excused herself in the living room where all the avengers were, heading into her room hurriedly.

inside, her already broken heart broke even more at seeing her boyfriend, his eyes brimmed red from tears, and his curly hair messy.

"y/n..." he started, reaching out to her like a child, and y/n ran over to him, wrapping him in her arms tightly, and playing with his curls soothingly.

her squeezed her close, tears running down his freckled cheeks and falling on her shirt.

she gently pushed him on her bed, where he laid down, snuggling his head into her chest as she laid down next to him, embracing him tightly.

"baby..." y/n mumbled, kissing his wet cheeks as he whimpered, his breathing rapid.

"y/n... i- i don't know what to- to do-" peter stammered softly, and y/n shushed him gently, "it's okay, everything's okay," she whispered, trying to convince him as much as herself.

"make it feel better, y/n," peter begged quietly, squeezing y/n's waist impossibly closer to him, and his cries started to grow, his breathing quick.

"breathe, sweetie," y/n said, and peter obeyed, taking deep breaths, his cries starting to calm down.

"don't leave me too," peter said, and y/n gently pushed his face up to look at her, "i won't, baby. i promise."

"i miss him," peter mumbled as y/n peppered his face with soft kisses.

"i know, pete," y/n said, looking into peter's beautiful chocolate brown eyes.

"don't you?" peter asked, and y/n hummed a yes. peter pulled away, his eyes shocked.

"you don't," peter stated, his eyes scanning over y/n.

y/n stared at him in surprise, understanding that he was just in pain. she took a deep breath, keeping the emotions she had shoved deep down down below.

"of course i do, pete-" y/n started softly, before being interrupted by peter.

"bullshit!" peter accused loudly, and y/n winced, hoping the adults in the living room hadn't heard it.

"peter, please calm down-" y/n said, and she jumped back on her bed when peter walked towards her.

"y/n, you didn't even care when he died. he was your father, and you didn't give a shit." peter said, and y/n gulped, taking deep breaths.

"peter, please, you know i-"

"you're an awful daughter, y/n, he would be so disappointed," peter cut her off, and his words stung, hurting her in such a way she could only see red.

"i know, peter! i know he would be disappointed, that's all he's ever been with me since he met you. he was my father. he saved me, from myself, from from the world. he protected me, and although he didn't do a perfect job, he did it." y/n started, emotions from long before finally bubbling up.

"you think i don't care?" y/n asked angrily, standing up and jabbing a finger in peter's chest.

"i loved him. he didn't want me to know, but nobody wanted me to stay because my mother was one of my father's old girlfriends, but my dad kept me anyways. he gave me a life because he believed in me," y/n spat.

she was so angry, she didn't hear her door open.

"he was my dad," y/n repeated, her voice breaking.

"he was my dad and now he's dead. and i miss him every single day. it hurts me to think about him, and i can't ever stop thinking about him because everything reminds me of him!

"he was your mentor, and my sister's dad, and my stepmother's husband, and my best friends' best friend. i'm his daughter! i see him everywhere! i can never not- i can never not see him or think about him. and it makes me want to give up knowing that i will never see him again," she continued, and peter felt awful, realizing he had been so caught up in his own grief, he didn't see her not grieving.

"i lost my whole world, peter. tasha was my best friend, steve was my second father. i am in pain every second of every day, but i have to keep it together for you and morgan, and pepper, and everyone!" y/n exclaimed.

tears were actively flowing down y/n's face, and she shook as she talked.

"i have to deal with the fact that i wasn't enough for tasha or steve to stay," y/n breathed, voice cracking. she tried her best to compose herself. "but i deal with it,"  y/n said softly.

"you know why i do that, peter? because my father taught me that everyone else is before me. and so i spend my life making sure that everyone else is okay," y/n explained, sighing as she angrily wiped tears from her face.

"i miss him like hell. and it hurts so much," y/n said, breathing deeply.

"because i know if he hadn't been so damn stubborn he would be here and i would be gone and everything would be okay," y/n muttered, and peter's eyes widened.

"and every day, you, and pepper, and morgan remind me it should have been me and not him! and i know that. and i wish every day it had been," y/n finished.

"i know you're hurting peter, we all are, but you have no right- n- no right," y/n mumbled. she turned, surprised to see the avengers outside her door, listening in.

at the broken looks on their faces, she crumpled, her legs giving out as she sobbed into her hands. "i failed," she whispered, "damn it. i'm sorry," she mumbled.

peter had been left feeling both shocked and guilty, and all he wanted to do was go over to her and apologize, but, bucky had picked y/n up from the ground, and thor was standing in front of peter with clint, and they did not have encouraging looks on their faces.

"y/n..." peter mumbled, starting to walk over to the door, but bruce stopped him with a disappointed look as he placed a hand on his chest, "you messed up kid. now you have to pay for it."

y/n had woken up on the couch, her arms wrapped around morgan, who had, at some point, climbed in with her.

y/n smiled at seeing her little sister, and she started running her fingers through morgan's hair, careful to not wake her up.

as memories of the night before flooded in her brain, y/n groaned, sighing in disappointment at herself.

as she looked down at morgan though, tears stung at her eyes, she needed to be strong for her little sister.

she smiled, even as her eyes burned, remembering how excited morgan was to meet her big sister, and how she had clung to y/n after hearing of her dad's death, hugging y/n's leg as if they had known each other for years.

y/n didn't want to feel it, the effects of losing three of the most important people in her life, but if she didn't, after that past night, she was sure the avengers were going to send her to a therapist to deal with her.

she pulled morgan closer to her gently, kissing the top of her head, before slowly laying her down again, covering her little sister with a blanket as she stood.

she stretched quietly, walking over to the kitchen in search of food, deciding on a banana before going to the training room.

y/n was surprised no one had been waiting for her. after last night, she had thought her uncles would be following her closely, just in case she would explode all over again.

she was grateful it wasn't like that, though, and especially so as she exercised in the training room, sweating out her frustrations.

she was distracted, which led her to be surprised when she was suddenly pinned to the wall, and she cursed, realizing who it was almost immediately.

"clint- what the hell?" y/n asked, before reacting, kicking at his leg harshly and making him fall, quickly pinning him down on the floor, and clint smirked.

he tsked, and y/n rolled her eyes, getting off of him and helping him up.

"what the hell was that about?" y/n asked, and clint shrugged, "never be distracted, y/n. not even in your own training room."

y/n huffed, scanning his face, realizing what he was really doing.

y/n squinted at him, "just say it. just say whatever you really want to say, i know that's why you're really here."

clint's face grew serious, and he sighed. "why didn't you tell any of us what you were going through? we would've helped you, you know?"

y/n shrugged, "i know, that's why i didn't. you had your own problems to deal with, and i can deal with mine very well, thank you."

she started to walk off, but clint grabbed her arm. "you shouldn't have to. we're a family, we support each other."

y/n didn't answer, and clint let her go in defeat.

"and you're more than enough, natasha... she was made for this, she was made to save the world," he said, and y/n sniffled.

"it doesn't make it hurt any less," she mumbled, heading for the bags.

it was bucky who came up to her next, while she was watching television in the common room, laughing at her favorite show.

"hey n/n," he said, and y/n had smiled at him, him and her had grown a lot closer, talking about steve and comforting each other during nightmares.

it was strange, the soldier had come into her life, and she had a strange sort of understanding with him, he was the uncle she never knew she needed. there were few exchanges of words, but it was enough, somehow.

"hi buck."

he hadn't beat around the bush, getting straight to the point immediately.

"it's not that you weren't enough y/n. steve, he deserved to be happy, he deserved to be a little selfish. he almost didn't leave because of you. but he knew you were strong- are strong, and he loved you, doll. he really did. you were the daughter he always wanted. he knew you would be okay. he had finished here. he brought me back, he saw you grow up, he saved the world, he just wanted the girl."

y/n froze, "i don't need- comfort, i, i'm good," she managed, and bucky rolled his eyes.

"come on, y/n, i 'm not stupid. and neither are you, you know not to keep things bottled up, let him in," bucky said softly, and y/n felt herself nod.

"okay," she said, surprised at herself.

she was sitting on her bed, watching television with morgan when peter came up to her.

y/n had just been informed morgan was also mad at peter because he 'made her big sister cry,' so it was really no surprise when morgan didn't greet peter like she usually did.

"um, hey morgan, do you mind if i talk to y/n for a little bit?" peter asked gently, but morgan had huffed, ignoring the brunette.

y/n had smiled softly at her little sister, kissing her head. "hey, maguna, i'll be right back okay?"

morgan grabbed onto y/n's hand, but y/n gave her a reassuring smile that made morgan let go, and give peter a stink eye.

y/n led peter out of her room to the hallway, where she stood awkwardly, arms crossed.

"i'm sorry, y/n. i am so sorry, angel," peter started, but y/n wouldn't meet his eyes.

y/n swallowed, "i know, it's okay, you were stressed-" she mumbled, but peter cut her off.

"no, no! it's not okay! i should have noticed you weren't dealing with this, and, and i shouldn't have told you those things. they're not true and they're awful, and, i'm so sorry, y/n," peter exclaimed, and y/n finally looked up at him, her eyes wide.

"i appreciate you so much, everything you've done for me, and now it's my turn. i'm here for you, y/n. let me be here for you," peter begged, taking a step closer to his girlfriend.

"you lost your whole world, let me help you," peter whispered, bringing the girl closer to him the same way she had done to him.

y/n melted against him against her own will, hugging him back.

"you made me feel really awful, pete, please- please don't do that. because if you do, you know maguna and i won't be as forgiving."

peter smiled at her words, pressing a kiss to her head. "i won't, angel, i promise i won't."

[inkribbon796]

Like a House of Cards Ch. 7: Something Precious, Something Gained

Summary: As the dominos fall in the opposite direction, time ticks on.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

After the blast hit and Dark fell backwards, their form flicking and convulsing, the chaos around them froze in time.

Brody broke free of the magic pushing him away and both he and Wil raced over to Dark.

Wil took out his revolver and fired in the Guildmaster’s direction, screaming in a rage before leaping to Dark’s side.

“No! No!” Brody screamed as he raced over to Dark, tears starting to stream from his eyes. “She wasn’t supposed ta hit yeh.”[1]

“Darkling!” Wil knelt by Dark’s other side.

Brody began drawing up as much aura as he could muster as started trying to seep it into Dark’s battered body as carefully as he could so he didn’t worsen the damage. He looked up at Wil, “Make yerself fookin’ useful, will yeh Bubbles?”[2]

“Ohh, right,” Wil realized and placed his hands ever so gently on Dark’s chest, the touch gentle as the two of them began slowly seeping aura into Dark’s chest and tentatively their aura fused the horrid cracks up again.

The Entity’s souls, no longer screaming in agony, began to rouse again from their dazed state and Dark saw Wil and Brody leaning over him.

“Dark, sweet mother ‘a[3] Mary, yer[4] alive,” Brody gasped, setting his head on Dark’s chest as another round of sobs ripped their way out of his chest. “I thought yeh were gonna die.”[5]

The hunters all suddenly disappeared into a massive portal as a person in a long brown trench coat and blood stained bandages over his eyes. The blood from his bandages was starting to roll down his cheeks.

The entire group looked at this new Host, and the one who was still standing by Illinois.

“The fook[6]?” Marvin said, looking between the two Hosts.

The Dealer walked towards Dark, who was starting to settle in exhausted unconsciousness instead of imminent death, Wil looking up and frowned at the fact that he was now seeing double of one of his boys. Both he and Brody felt drained.

“Huh, I don’t recall getting drunk,” Wil commented.

“He’s not gonna[7] die, right?” Brody growled.

“Of course not, why would the Host want such a thing?” The Dealer scoffed. “The Entity should be fortunate that it will take another three years for the Guildmaster to amass that kind of magic again and by then the Entity will be more than fully recharged due to the vast empire he has accrued that he can get aura from.”

“Holy fuck, he’s still alive?”

J.J and Hearts appeared out of thin air.

Illinois and his siblings, except for the Host, braced for another attack.

“Hey, hey,” Hearts held his hands up in surrender. “We’re done, besides there’s no point in wearing the suits again now that Wilford’s alive.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Bim demanded.

“Well, we,” Hearts began patting his pocket in confusion, before groaning and rolling his eyes. “Logan’s still got the video, awww, shit, we were gonna[7] use that.”

Hearts looked up at the beanstalk not too far from them. A huge sunflower platform starting to bud and flower at the top. “Hold up, we’ll get Tech Avery and the Hulking Croak down and we’ll do the whole spiel then, when we’re—”

The Suit dodged as Ethan came out of nowhere to try and punch Hearts in the face. Hearts deflecting or dodging most of the strikes.

“What did you do to my dog!” Ethan demanded in an angry fury. “Stop wearing my fucking face.”

Then one of Ethan’s fists phased through Hearts’s face before he completely disappeared. Then he was swiftly kicked in the back so he toppled forward onto his face.

“We’re done,” Hearts told Ethan, parts of him materializing first before others. “I can kick your ass, but I really don’t want to.”

“You’ve killed dozens of people already,” Ethan spat, “why stop now?”

“Well maybe I like existing,” Hearts told him, “you ever think of that?”

“Why would that matter?” Ethan demanded, picking himself back up.

“I can’t tell if you’re being obnoxious or just plain stupid,” Hearts rolled his eyes, and looked around.

J.J casually snapped his fingers and a magical barrier sprung up and a wall of red and gold magic hit it. “Right on time, it seems,” the false J.J smiled.

“Yeah, I’d hate to tell the story twice,” Hearts smiled. “Hey Princey, are the others with you?”

“Odious scoundrel!” Roman shouted. He was standing with all the other Sides. All of them in their superhero outfits. Other heroes and villains began showing up since they’d been called over by the cracking dome and the burst of magic.

J.J dissipated the barrier.

Nate let out a sigh of relief as he counted all seven Sides. None of them had tried to kill each other for power or to get more of themselves back. He’d need to have a long chat with all of them, but right now there were other things to worry about.

“Where is that face stealing monster?” Roman demanded.

“Seeing as I still have my face, I think we are merely dealing with imposters,” Logan explained.

“Logic, now is not the time for semantics,” Janus hissed.

Logan fell silent, but he was looking at the two Suits. Hearts smiled at him in return.

“Hey, glad to see you’re all still doing well,” Hearts still had a huge smile.

Janus hissed at him in fury at the same time Logan yelled out, “FALSEHOOD!”

“Yikes, but that’s a discussion to have with our Logan,” Hearts smiled.

“That was nothing like Logic!” Roman shouted. “How dare you?”

“Well yeah, he’s not our Logic yet, give him about fifteen years and he’ll get there,” Nestor explained. “We’re from the future.”

There was a beat of silence before Roman began laughing, pointing his sword down at them, “Your tricks will not fool me, thou cretinous wretched. Tell them Deceit.”

All the other Sides had already been looking at Janus, who was staring at the two doppelgängers in a mixture of shock and apprehension.

“Deceit,” Roman growled, “now is not the time to play devil’s advocate.”

“That would explain the nanite technology and the fact that they know who we are,” Logan reasoned, a pit forming in his gut. Because if that Logan had been capable of that much sadism and outright, malicious violence . . .

“No. No!” Roman spat angrily at Janus,. “We are not even considering this.”

“Wait you guys are even thinking of considering this?” Ethan shouted. “It’s absolute horseshit!”

“Deceit’s a living lie detector,” Illinois called out. “He just also happens to be a really good illusionist.”

“It’s true,” Joan pushed three way past Janus and Remus and jumped down from a piece of rubble.

“So they’re telling the truth?” Joan looked at Janus.

“Unfortunately, it seems so,” Janus answered through gritted teeth.

Heart looked over at Brody, “Come on, Chase, if we can’t cheat with Logan’s video, we gotta do it together. I only want to do this once a round.”

“I’m not fookin’ leavin’ him ta get shot again!”[8] Brody shouted. “I don’t care if Host says it’s clear or not. I didn’t put up with all this bullshite[9] ta[10] watch him die.”

“Come on, he’s literally in the middle of what amounts to an army of magic, he’s not going anywhere,” Hearts tried to reason.

“Leave it,” J.J told him, his voice still grainy with whatever was helping him speak. “We need to get Logan back and it’s best to have this farce dealt with sooner rather than later.”

“Fine,” Hearts let out a frustrated groan, before pointing to J.J and then Brody. “This is J.J he’s a tactical advisor. This is Brody, part time hit man, and fulltime emotional crutch for an unstable eldritch demon.”

“And I am the Police Commissioner of the Egoton PD,” Hearts introduced, gesturing to himself, CP Nestor flashed a badge on his wallet that was usually carried around by Abe and reached around and grabbed a disk at the back of his neck and handed it over to the Dealer. “I’ll spare my name since it makes younger me a bit antsy despite half of the league already knowing who we are and where you live because you’ve been playing hero since you were fourteen.”

“The hell, you’re not me, you’ve killed people,” Ethan argued.

“Trust me, we’ve been targeting people who have killed or at the single rumor of an order from their Guildmaster they would kill. I have killed far better people, and I’m not claiming we’re saints but we did this town a favor.”

“You could have just told us upfront,” Logan grumbled. “It would have saved us all this trouble and bloodshed.”

Hearts started letting out an amused chuckle, J.J and Brody were decidedly not laughing, “Oh that’s funny, and you always say you don’t have a sense of humor. Did you know that you always ask that, every single time? Nah, you see, we tried that. A lot. So we’ve just been trying whatever sticks.”

“This is the tenth reset,” Brody frowned. “Thanks ta the anomaly an’ J.J here, we’ve been able ta remember all ‘a ‘em so we could make changes as we needed.”[11]

“We had to remove your J.J this time around because he refused to help,” Diamonds explained. “Speaking of which.”

He stepped to the side and snapped his fingers, a bubble of distorted time rippled out and J.J tripped through. He looked confused and bewildered, until he saw future J.J and jumped up to attack him.

Then there was another ripple of time and both J.J were standing there, the real one looking furious as Diamonds just stared back. “See? No one’s died, you should have just trusted me from the start.”

J.J looked around at everyone and he froze when he saw Jackie, who was standing next to Chase.

“Jackie?” J.J gave a shaky sign as he took a couple steps forward. The mute hero then raced over and hit Jackie with a hug, he was shaking in relief.

“Hey, Jay, you okay now?” Jackie asked in concern.

J.J nodded and held onto Jackie even tighter.

Hearts had the wherewithal to wait for the moment to pass before he pointed up to the beanstalk, “And our Logic just peaced out up there. He motioned to the beanstalk. “He’s got the drive we need where we explain everything and have actual video evidence to prove it. So you all can either wait in here, or we can send someone up to get him.”

Roman looked up at the beanstalk, finally sheathing his sword. “Fine, besides, we have unfinished business with him.”

“Excellent the Core Sides will be able to accomplish the mission with little to no bloodshed,” the Dealer smiled.

“They good or should we send someone else?” Nestor asked J.J and the Dealer.

“The Core Sides should be fine,” the Host asked for the two of them. “The Sides should not worry, the Host will not allow the Suits to escape. Especially since there’s a town to clean up.”

“I’m going with them,” Nestor decided. “Someone needs to help power him down afterwards and he won’t let that happen if he thinks the other Sides are still in danger.”

That caused a little bit of an argument but after a while everyone came to an agreement. Core Sides would go up with Nestor to retrieve their Logan and Patton. The three Dark Sides would stay down with the others and help clean up or wait for Dark to recover.

Janus did walk over to the beanstalk with them, halting Logan a ways away to talk. Mostly to plan in case Nestor double crossed them.

“I’ll keep an eye on things down here,” Janus decided, a small albino python sliding out of his sleeve and moving towards Logan. The logical Side letting the serpent crawl up his body until it was delicately wrapped around his wrist and then turned into a bracelet.

“Are you certain that you do not wish to join us?” Logan asked.

“If I go up there, I will strangle him with my own hands,” Janus warned.

“Alright,” Logan responded in understanding and walked back towards the spot the other Core Sides were standing with Nestor. Roman set his hand on the tree-like stem of the beanstalk and a rounded elevator carriage made of woven plants and flowers.

“Is that even safe, Princey,” Virgil looked at the carriage nervously.

“Of course why wouldn’t it be?” Roman leaned against the carriage with a huge smile.

Virgil frowned, “Are you serious?”

After some magic from Patton they all got into the carriage and it started to move up. The ride was quiet for a bit as the carriage began moving up.

“Why are you even coming up, don’t you have a future to hover over?” Virgil spat. “We can’t be that important.”

Nestor frowned, leaning forward in his seat, “Hey look, I’ve regretted many, many of the things I’ve done in my life but the time I spent with you guys was not one of them.”

Nestor pointed to Logan, “You’re not our Logan yet, but even at this point I owe you a lot. You fixed my crappy homemade suit into something that would protect me. You and Silver and Jackie helped give me a structure while I was still in school and doing hero work. I still hold those days in a special place in my heart, and regardless of what happens next that won’t change. But even after I still owe Logan a lot for really helping me out. I might have mentioned it but this city hates me. Dark dropped the police department in my lap and basically told me: “keep order in my city, bitch” and walked off to keep looking for Wil. Logan was there to help me. He helped me when no one else did or could.”

“Sounds like hell,” Virgil commented.

“For five years it was,” Nestor told him, “a lot of people who didn’t need to die, died. Hunters were killing anyone they thought could be a demon vessel after they found out how many demons were actually in the city. And while all that was going on, I had to stand up in front of the news and try and keep the peace in a city that was turning itself inside out. My mission was to save as many people as I could, and if a couple scumbags who were going to kill children and people who have nothing to do with heroes or villains then who cares?”

Logan’s brain was already going to dangerous places. He could see a logical chain of events that brought the Side from where he was sitting in-between Patton and Virgil, to wherever Spade was in his life. It was a dangerous slippery slope.

His future self had already been telling him things. And if these doppelgängers were truly from the future then he had to acknowledge that his other self’s warnings were true. That Virgil and Roman had died. That Patton had been hurt and needed protecting. That Deceit had to be trusted when he couldn’t trust anyone else.

And that the hunters were to blame.

These thoughts swirled his head as he evaluated them:

Did Patton deserve to be attacked for things he could not control? No!

Did a young man who was barely old enough to drink deserve to have the metaphorical weight of a city dropped upon his shoulders and left to run the police force on his own? No!

Did the people who callously murdered Virgil deserve to be left to walk free . . .

Logan hesitated. Apparently most of those people were now dead before they could kill Virgil and others like him. They also hadn’t yet done anything.

Objectively his head spun with the paradox. Given the chance they would have killed him. But they were too dead to actually carry out the deed anymore. We’re they still guilty of the crime?

The logical Side’s battered heart cried “Yes” but now Logan couldn’t be sure that was his mind and heart deciding those things anymore.

His future self had clearly been trying to make Logan think and act like him. If not for Ethan and Chase, he would have succeeded.

“Not sure how much I should keep telling you, either way, Lo’s gonna be pissed,” Nestor shrugged as the flower car continued to take them up. “Logan works kinda with Google these days. Patton started going full demon and got scared so he worked with Dark for aura to help sooth Pat, and then he worked with Google and Bing for safety.”

“Because he’s inorganic?” Logan commented, roused from his rather venomous thoughts.

“Yeah took a good five years for Lo to want to work with him, Google had been making offers for a long time before that,” Nestor scratched some rubble out of the back of his scalp. “We were all going through a lot and I kinda lost track of him for a couple of years since we were all so busy. Then he just showed up in Dark’s office one day a glitchy and angry mess.”

“I fail to see how if you were genuine that we would turn your assistance down,” Logan grumbled.

“Yeah, we’ll you weren’t the difficult one,” Nestor scoffed, looking out the window in thought for a couple seconds before looking back. “Look, Lo’s really protective of Pat, so just be careful, okay? Pat’s been through a lot.”

“Our anger and frustration is with your Logan, not your Patton, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

The cart finally came to a stop at the top of the beanstalk and opened into a lush and verdant garden entryway. Beautiful petals and pastel colored insects fluttering in the breeze.

There were the light sounds of conversation that the Sides and Nestor could hear coming from the next room.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Accessibility Translations

1. She wasn’t supposed to hit you

2. Make yourself fucking useful, will you Bubbles?

3. of

4. you’re

5. I thought you were going to die

6. Fuck

7. going to

8. I’m not fucking leaving him to get shot again!

9. bullshit

10. to

11. Thanks to the anomaly and J.J here, we’ve been able to remember all of them so we could make changes as we needed.

[archonssun]

Huntin’ For Your Touch

Your timing was impeccable nonnie. I’m so stuck on my other stories rn 😭 Also, cuz I’m a slut for angst, this is gonna get sad...😈

Huntin’ For Your Touch

WC: 1763

Prompto didn’t get it. Whenever he was around Cindy, he’d be a bumbling mess, but around you ... he almost felt normal. He didn’t stumble over his words, he didn’t make a fool of himself. But in a way, speaking with you was more nerve-wracking than speaking with Cindy. You were a hunter, after all, and you’d have no problem kicking his scrawny ass.

Maybe that’s why he never told you. Maybe that’s why he’ll never get the chance to.

***

When he first met you, it was during their trip to Altissia, shortly after the fall of Insomnia. When they had met Cor at Keycatrich Trench, you had been there, standing at the Immortal’s side. More than anything, the gunman was curious who you were -- you didn’t look like a member of the Crownsguard, but you weren’t just some random civilian, either, if the weapons strapped to your sides were anything to go by. It wasn’t until the boys, Cor, and Monica took down the Imperial blockade that he learned you were a relative of the Immortal.

*

“Hey, um, not to be rude or anything, but who are you?” Prompto approached you cautiously. As he got closer, he noticed a small scar running across the bridge of your nose. It was faint; he hadn’t noticed it when he first saw you because it was so faded. It must’ve been pretty old.

“(Y/n),” you responded, giving the blond a quick once over before going back to maintaining your short swords. “And you’re not being rude, Prompto. It’s natural to be curious about a stranger.”

“How do you know my name?” his blue-violet eyes narrowed on you for a split second. Heaving a sigh, you placed your swords off to the side and directed your attention to him.

“Cor talks about you a lot, y’know,” you answered. You took in his reaction -- his brows furrowing and his face scrunching in confusion -- before you continued. “He thinks of you like a son. He’s proud of you.”

Prouder than me, at least. That’s what your expression said, and the gunslinger frowned -- not something he did too often. But he didn’t get the chance to say anything as you grabbed your weapons and walked away.

Prompto swore he heard you sniff.

***

The next time he saw you was in Old Lestallum. You had joined Dave on his hunt for dog tags. At that time, you had gained more scars across your hands and one that split your lower lip. Considering it had only been a few weeks -- a month, at most -- since you had last seen one another, Prompto couldn’t help but wonder what the older hunter was having you do.

“Dave,” you had called for the older man as soon as you had seen the Regalia pull into the small town. It wasn’t all too long after that that you were joining the four men in their search for some missing tags.

That day happened to be when Prompto realized something: he cared for you, deeply. In a more than platonic way.

That also happened to be the day that you were seriously injured while protecting Noctis.

*

“Noctis!” your shout rang across the battlefield. It had caught Prompto’s attention immediately, and when he turned he saw a Magitek Assassin charging his best friend. For his name’s meaning, Prompto wasn’t ready at all. Noct was in stasis after having defeated multiple assassins at once, and he could barely move. He was just a second too slow to raise his gun, and it only took that single second.

Prompto watched as you collapsed to your knees, a short sword jammed through the assassin that had targeted Noct. But what made his blood run cold was the blade sticking out of your back. He could only be a bystander as the assassin disintegrated, it’s blade staying where you had been impaled -- just below your right collarbone. His hands started shaking, his gun dematerializing as Ignis and Gladio rushed to their king’s side, as well as yours.

You were a hunter. You hadn’t taken an oath to protect him, yet you had risked your life for Noct. It was enough to shake each of the men to their cores, seeing someone that was basically a complete stranger try to protect the Lucian heir.

It was Prompto’s job to call Cor, to tell him what had happened. It wasn’t even a few hours later that the Immortal was in Lestallum, clutching your hand as fear made itself known on his face. In all the time Prompto had known the marshall, not once could he remember him looking so distraught -- especially over the possibility of someone dying.

Prompto learned another thing that day; he learned just how closely you and Cor were related.

*

“Please, (Y/n),” Cor’s voice trembled as he grasped at your cold hands. “You can’t leave me, too.”

Prompto stood off to the corner of the room, guilt weighing heavily in his heart.

If I had just been two seconds faster, then--

“D-Dad…?” voice crackling, your (e/c) hues met Cor’s, fear evident in them. The marshall’s grip tightened around your hand in response, trying to calm you. Tears welled in your eyes at the sight of the man and you turned onto your side as you sobbed. “Dad…”

***

After that, Prompto didn’t see you until the darkness had already set in. And when you saw Noct wasn’t with the retinue when they came back, it was Prompto that had cried with you.

Since you had almost died protecting the prince, you had grown close to each of them, but with Noct in particular. He seemed like a brother to you, and the fact that he hadn’t come home from Gralea broke you.

Not that you had been overly cheerful before they had left, you became a husk, only doing what was needed to survive and nothing more. And Prompto was with you the whole way, trying to make you smile. Or at least make you forget, for even a second, that Noct was gone. It was really for the both of you -- Prompto missed the prince more than anyone else. He hadn’t just lost a king back in Gralea, he had lost his best friend.

***

You and Prompto had grown close over the past seven years. There wasn’t a single day that you two went without one another. You two had become each other’s crutch in the absence of Noctis. 

You had both changed in that time. Where once you had had long (h/c) hair, you had to cut it because of the absurd number of hunts you’d go on on a daily basis -- and washing daemons guts from long hair was a less than enjoyable affair. Prompto had done something similar, cutting back the fringe that used to fall in front of his right eye when he was twenty. Like every other hunter alive, you two looked tired, and neither of you could remember the last time you had gotten any real sleep.

Currently, you were sitting in the plastic patio furniture in front of the caravan in Hammerhead, trying to get any sleep your body would allow. You had just come back from a particularly nasty hunt that left you more exhausted than it should have. Just as you had begun to get comfy, a sound had you alert once more.

You shot up from your chair, head swivelling as you tried to pinpoint where the sound was coming from. But it proved difficult; even after relocating several times, you couldn’t determine its origin. It was only because you had thrown your head back in frustration that you saw Prompto sitting on the roof of the caravan. Your brows knitted together as they met his form. One leg was pulled into his chest while the other dangled off the caravan, and his head was buried in his arms.

Had it been any darker, you never would have seen the slight tremor in the blond’s shoulders. Worried for your partner, you were quick to scale the trailer and sit next to the man that had become an unlikely friend.

“Prompto, you good?” At your voice, Prompto’s body tensed. You were sure of it now; the man had been crying. He sniffled, rubbing at his eyes before meeting yours. He gave you a smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Yeah. I’m fine, don’t worry,” he said. He yelped when you pinched at his ear, tugging slightly.

“Bullshit,” you seethed. On more than one occasion, you had found the usually happy-go-lucky blond crying, and each time he had brushed off your concerns. But you wouldn’t let him, not this time. “I’ve known you far too long for that smile to work on me. You need to focus, Prompto. We have a hunt in a few hours, and I don’t want either of us getting hurt because you were stuck inside your head.”

Your words had come out harsher than intended, and you regretted it immediately when the blond’s face fell. You quickly replaced your scowl with a frown and cupped his face in your hands.

“You’ve always helped me out. Why won’t you let me help you?” you whispered, watching as his eyes went wide and his face turned red. “At least, let me try to help you? Please?”

Prompto nodded slowly, and your lips turned upwards slightly.

“What can I do, Prom?” It was the first time you had given him a nickname in the seven years you had known him, and he was shell-shocked. Your smile fell as you watched him, waiting for a response.

It was quick, and it left you wondering just how long he had wanted to do it. His gloved hands pulled your face to his, pressing his chapped lips to yours.

“Just stay with me? Please?” his voice was small, quieter than a whisper as he pleaded with you.

“Always.”

***

“Prom.” You could barely speak, the pain becoming too much. Your body shook like a leaf as you coughed, and Prompto was quick to pull you into his arms, pressing a hand to your bloodied side.

“C’mon, (Y/n). Stay awake, please.” Tears spilled from his blue-violet eyes, landing on your cheek. “Just stay awake for a bit longer. You’ll be fine.”

Hand shaking, you reached up to touch his cheek, giving him a sad smile. Your fingers carded through the blond strands before your palm settled on his cheek.

“Don’t stop, Prom,” you wheezed. “Don’t look back. Noct will need you when he gets back. Keep pushing forward, and everything will be okay.”

[msbeccieboo]

Arrow 8x03 Brain Dump

ASDADGHSADFSAF!! Back on form this week, with more returning guests, massive sibling feels and concentration on characters that we love, AND THE COLLISION OF FUTURE AND PRESENT TIMELINES IN THAT EPIC ENDINGGGG!!!!!!!!! YAAAASSSS!!! I’m still spiralling now!!!

Oliver and Thea

Welcome back Thea Queen!! Oliver had missed his Speedy 😍

So following on from last week, Oliver travelled to Nanda Parbat (which looked suspiciously like Lian Yu...the S8 Budget was clearly too used up on guest stars to recreate the outdoor Nanda Parbat scenery we saw in S3 😂), where he hoped to find some answers about The Monitor. I’m not actually sure if he intended on visiting Thea, or if her appearance was just a happy coincidence! But either way he was able to tell her about Mia and show her the picture of his new little family GAJKFSDGHFHDSGFS!!!

Source: oliverxfelicity

More below the cut...

In a shock move for Oliver Queen, he is open and honest with Thea straight away about his prophesied and imminent death. Thea wasn’t buying it, and Oliver even made a little sarcastic comment to “take as much time as you like to be upset” 😂😂 I’ve seen a few people say that they wanted to see more emotion from Thea here, and in later scenes. My take is that Thea/Willa’s nonchalant air is just classic Thea Queen Swagger™, but did feel like Willa maybe wasn’t really all that present in all of the scenes (mainly the LoA stuff though really). I however loved her total chill at the prospect of Oliver dying...not dissimilar to us...we know what's what! Our boy will be okay in the end!

Oliver seeks out Talia Al Ghul to use the Leagues archives (?) to find out more about The Monitor, because she owes him one. I love the idea of Oliver collecting his debts for once...this could fill the rest of the season to be honest; he’s racked up rather a few favours over the years. Talia’s help comes in the form of an Indiana Jones-esque scavenger hunt to uncover an ancient League book, and some special Demon’s head sword (?), with interruptions by the pesky Thanatos Guild from last season, who Thea is at war with. Honestly, plot-wise, I struggled a bit this week; even on rewatch I found it hard to concentrate😂 . I just zoned in on the character moments to get me through. But luckily, there were lots of those! 

One such beautiful character moment with the Queen siblings was on the side of a mountain, and reminded me a little bit of the Will/Mia scene up the Glades wall back in 7x16, I think? Oliver getting all emotional about missing his family and doubting his decisions every single day just punched me right in the feels 😭😭

Source: feilcityqueen

Then his explanation for trying to find answers before the Crisis: “My sacrifice, my death will protect the people I love. I need my family to be safe.” MURDERER!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭

Thea reassures him with some sage Queen family words, that their parents also made some questionable choices regarding them (that’s putting it lightly), but it ultimately made them heroes because of them. I think this scene was one of my favourites this episode, if not the season so far. Love me some Queen siblings 💗

The upshot of this random adventure with Talia was that Oliver read that the upcoming Crisis will actually be caused by The Monitor (dun dun DUUUNNN!!), complete with a lovely drawing of him 😂😂 But what Oliver doesn’t know, cos The Monitor doesn’t tell him anything is that there is also an Anti-Monitor, who will be the big bad of Crisis...so this may be a bit of a red herring for now!

Oliver ends his time in Nanda Parbat by saying one final (in his mind) goodbye to Thea, which actually made me sob like a baby out of nowhere, and has done every time I’ve rewatched the clip haha! Thea didn’t see it as a goodbye (cos Oliver dying? Pass!), but Oliver just cracks and won’t let go of her, and now I’m tearing up again 😭😭😭

Source: smoakmonster

I think by the way the goodbye scene played out that that will be the last we see of Thea, and ugh it’s such a shame because she has always brought out something special in Oliver, but we know she’ll be with him the whole time...😭😭😭

Stray thoughts:

They had Thea acknowledge Moira as her namesake (still think it’s a stretch, Moira-Mia? No.) but also had a callback to Thea’s Corto Maltese alias, which made me lol, and frankly, I find a better reference 😂

“All beings burn but a Phoenix rises from the ashes”. The Phoenix references this week were as subtle as a sledgehammer...Oliver is the Phoenix, and he will rise from the ashes following his death!

The Guild calling Oliver and Speedy ‘outsiders’ 🙄🙄 Oliver was Ras al Ghul and Thea is heir to the demon; get your facts right, biatch!!

Thea was a total badass this week, taking down Talia was sooo cool, and shows how far she has come as a fighter/hero.

Nice drop-in that Felicity gave the hozen to William!

Thea and Talia joining forces to raise a female ‘League of Heroes’; better than any faux-feminist Canary bullshit!!

The guest stars are fantastic, but their novelty and distraction is wearing off...I MISS FELICITY SMOAK 😫😫 Next week should hopefully tide us over, though!!

Dyla

Dyla had their own little adventure this week, that  echoed their suicide squad mission in Season 2. Bronze Tiger killed a bad guy whilst working for Lyla, and in revenge, that bad guy’s son kidnaps Sandra and little Connor Hawke, then also tries to kill Lyla, but obviously she’s a total badass so that doesn’t happen! Anyway, all’s well that ends well and Dig rescues Connor and his Mum, and that’s about all I can remember plot-wise 😂😂

What we got character-wise, though was really cool! We got the first hint of JJ’s story of being 'neglected' by Dyla...with Dig and Lyla being increasingly away on missions and unable to call him, and in turn finding Connor and obviously starting to fall in love with him because he is the softest little bean 😍 When ickle Connor said “thank you Mr Diggles” I was a goner 😂😂

We saw Dig having a crisis of faith (pun intended) after seeing Earth 2 disintegrate before him, but ultimately he realises (after some Lyla wisdom) that they just have to hold on to each other and do their best. Lyla made a few comments and pulled some ‘I’m keeping secrets’ faces, asking Dig to remember the good times no matter what happens, and I need to know what Lyla knows dammit!! I still believe that she is on the good side, and her appearing to double-cross Dig and Oliver with The Monitor last week is a little bit of a red herring. I need to believe, ok!!!

Flash-forwards

Plot-wise, I actually think the flash-forwards were the strongest storyline this week. Following on from last week we had the team rushing back to the bunker to check on William, after JJ threatened him. This scene brought us another “frack” from Mia 😍, and a mention of Felicity as “Mom” from William 😭, as he managed to electrocute the bad guys all by himself! Will being a techy little badass is a forever mood and is yet another reminder of our Felicity. She is never really gone.

With the Deathstrokes now targeting William and other members of the Star City Unification Movement (SCUM, really?? LOL), William offers himself up as bait. As Oliver’s daughter, you can imagine how that went down with Mia. Badly. Big nope from Mia, who decides on a more direct approach of going to their HQ and kicking all of the ass 😂. Zoe is very much against this, but Mia is all “I know best, we’ll just storm in and take them all out myself” (S1 Oliver anyone?). Said storming in leads to this absolute beauty of a moment:

I LOVE HIM SO MUCH!!!

Prior to kicking all of the asses, Mia and William have a heart-to-heart, with Will still angry at Mia for not trusting him to go into dangerous situations. Will thinks it’s because he’s not a fighter, but Mia comes back with “it’s because you’re my brother” 😭 😭 😭

Source: olicitygifs

In another Felicity-worthy pep-talk, William tells Mia that operating out of fear is not the way to go, and that they need to trust each other to survive. I’m really gonna need a Mia/Will hug soon, please and thank you. Honestly, Will is the perfect balance/offset to Mia with his easy humour and quick wit, but he ALWAYS brings the feels as well. He reminds me so much of Emily’s portrayal of Felicity, and not just in the way that his character has been written, but just by what he brings to the role. Ben is a wonderful actor; I adore him and he and William must be protected at all costs!

In the final confrontation, Mia, Zoe and JJ storm JJ and the Deathstrokes, but JJ gets Mia by the throat in an awesome 3x23 Felicity/Slade parallel. Mia couldn’t save herself like Felicity did in this instance, but we must remember that this is just the beginning of Mia’s journey. She has time. Unlike Zoe, who saves Mia, but is then fatally stabbed by JJ 😬 Poor Zoe dies in Mia’s arms. Kat’s acting here was perfection. I may have shed a tear. They had kept Zoe pretty much in the background in the FFs, so I wasn’t particularly attached; if one of FTA needed to die, then I’m good with her. Sorry Zo. But in all honesty, this fridging trope really needs to end. Another female character didn’t need to die in order to elevate JJ’s evil-factor, or to spur on Mia’s hero journey, or Connor’s struggle with his conscience. Enough now. Hopefully, being a bird, Zoe will be back from the dead soon enough anyway 😂

Source: 1-crazy-dreamer 💗

Connor sees Zoe die and goes after JJ. Hard. Tries to kill him. Between 2 generations of Queens and Diggles, the sibling parallels were so strong this week, and I’m loving it! I wrote a little meta here about it. But does Connor have the guts to actually kill JJ? JJ taunts that he doesn’t, Connor disagrees, but then the bright light comes for all of FTA and so we come to…

THAT ENDING

OH MY GOD ALL OF FTA IN THE BUNKER IN 2019!!!!!!!!!!!!

So most people following any kind of interviews or spoilers had a pretty firm idea that Mia would come back in time at the end of the episode. We were expecting it. What the show did was really quite clever...they allowed these pretty big spoilery-type interviews and tweets to be released, heavily implying that Mia would rock up in the last 30 seconds. They let us think we were all clever and had figured it out then BOOM! EVERYONE CAME BACK (minus Zoe 😬)! 

I am so pleased with this!! All the paparazzi pics etc that we’d seen of Mia in the crossover etc had made me so happy, but equal parts sad that William couldn’t go back and see Oliver too, but now he can!!!

Uggghhhh it was so fucking goooood!! Oliver’s initial confusion of being beamed back to the bunker, stunned Dig, Dinah and Rene (I can live with their 5-second appearances this season 😂😂), then the camera and Oliver pan around to Mia, William and Connor just stood there!! Mia still had tears running down her face from seeing Zoe die, and she has her Arrow suit on and is covered in blood and she sees her Daddy for the first time in her memory!!!!!!! Just one word is delivered in those last few seconds and it was still one of the best moments of the season so far!!

Mia’s “Dad”, followed by Oliver’s confusion, realisation, then shock was just gaaahhhh!! But my absolute favourite reaction (I decided after multiple rewatches, for science, haha) was William’s 😍😭😍 His eyes full of tears, and utter gobsmacked-ness was fucking sublime!!  

Source for all 3 reaction gifs: tylerposey

Next week is going to be so epic!! We have Mia, who has never met Oliver and who has built him up so much in her head and heart from Felicity and William’s stories, and also the tainted Star City archives, getting to finally come face-to-face with him. Then conversely, there is William, who got a few years to know his father, but then left him and eventually believed to have been abandoned by him and Felicity, and has had to live for 20 years until very recently still believing that, and now he gets to see him again, only a few months after little William left! Then there’s Connor, who Dig barely even knows in 2019 and he’s gonna call him Dad and then have to tell him that he nearly just killed JJ, who just killed Zoe, and Rene is right there and I AM HERE FOR ALL OF ITTTTTT!!!! 

There’s so much content coming in next weeks episode it’s going to be so beautiful!!  I wrote a post of things I really hope to see here, and I’m pretty confident we’ll get most of them and so much more!

Then there’s the implications of what FTA being in the present means for the future!! I had a bit of a spec meltdown here about how this could end up saving Oliver, and I think that’s pretty much just wishful thinking, but either way, them coming back to the present to help with the Crisis and to try and stop future Star City turning so bleak is going to make my head hurt and my heart sing in equal measure, I’m sure! After all, what is the point in having the multiverse, time travel, super powers etc in Arrow if we can’t reap some benefits from it somehow? The ending to this episode, and hopefully next week will be our reward for the fuckery we’ve had to endure with the more sci-fi-esque elements since Larry rocked up and the Arrowverse was extended. And I. cannot. wait.

Thank you to the beautiful, talented, and super speedy gifmakers for blessing us with all the amazing gifsets from this episode!! Mwah! 😘😘 (Uncredited gifs are mine)

💗💗💗