#angsty central up in here

[iwozlegit]

Now that I've got the real meaning of the meme *lmao* here I come again for this!

 ✒ + Ultra Magnus!

Send ✒ + a character for a random headcanon I have about that character!

Answering ~

|| 🍍• Ultra Magnus struggles severely to ponder his way around negative emotions and thoughts surrounding loneliness and failure.

Ironically, his own authoritative stoicalness is to blame. Ultra Magnus’s flaw is that to him, Optimus Prime is the pinnacle of leadership. Another common trope in more recent years (RID2015 I’m looking at you), is that we’ve seen characters try to embody Optimus’s leadership and missing the whole point of “Optimus’s way worked because it was Optimus doing it.” Ultra Magnus is no different. And this is why he clashes with certain characters. When you take one aspect of Optimus and make it your personality, it’s not gonna be so sweet for you (I actually do like UM btw :’) )

Just as Ultra Magnus struggled initially to adapt to Team: Prime (“much has changed since the war for Cybertron”), Ultra Magnus also initially struggled to adapt to the unfortunate loss of his servo, appearing frustratingly disheartened when Ratchet refused to clear him for duty - he felt useless; lonely. In both of these situations, someone else aided him out of his funk - Optimus in the first instance, and Wheeljack in the latter.

Tldr : Ultra Magnus is the reason he’s lonely and struggles with failure, because he hasn’t worked out that…

A.) He doesn’t need to embody Optimus Prime to be a good leader.

B.) Because of this, when failure/upheaval occurs, he hasn’t learned the value of a family or close-knit team interactions, such as Team: Prime, or the value in asking for help.

[ellecdc]

Could you please write a poly! rosekiller based on the song why’d you only call me when you’re high by artic monkey? Preferably with reader being in an angsty will they won’t they situationship with the boys but somehow end at least semi positively. Thank you!

thanks for your request! I've been sooooooooooooo nervous and hesitant to write Evan as a central character and this is only my SECOND TIME doing so and I've made it from his fucking POV so I'm SORRY if I did terribly don't come for me I'm tryinggggggg

poly!rosekiller x fem!reader who they only call when they're high [1.4k words]

CW: descriptions of drug use and being high, discussion of past drinking/drug use, discussions of sex but nothing explicit and no sex happens (sorry y'all lol), Evan's POV and I might've fucked it up I'm sorry, angst? with a hopeful/positive ending

The blunt felt heavy between Evan’s lithe fingers as he stared unseeingly at the door.

Barty had texted you an hour ago, and there was still no sign of you. While he didn’t pretend he had any real business keeping tabs on where you were or how long it usually took for you to get from your flat to theirs, he couldn’t help but keep his eyes trained on the door and his ears on alert for your text tone from his phone.

“Is she here yet?” Barty asked from his current spot, which was laying on his back in the middle of the living room with the low coffee table across his torso and his elbows propped on top of it as he scrolled through his phone.

“Fuck off.” Evan grumbled around the blunt as he took another drag.

“She should - ow, fuck - be here by now.” Barty grumbled as he tried to extricate himself from underneath the table. 

“Then text her again, J, I don’t know what you want me to tell you.” Evan muttered back as he stamped out the joint and stood.

He wasn’t sure exactly what he was standing for, but no sooner was he at his full height did the handle to their door twist before opening and exposing you. 

“Fucking finally.” Barty sighed in relief as he finally stood - the coffee table now halfway across the room from its intended position - and made for you. “Took you long enough, Treasure!”

He pulled you in and began kissing you messily; movements slowed and languid due to his own joint now long gone, though the smoke still sat heavy near the ceiling. 

If Evan wasn’t such a perceptive person, he may have completely missed the pained furrow of your brows when you pulled away from Barty as you disposed of your purse and shedded your jacket. 

But he was a perceptive person, and he did notice the pained furrow of your brows, and he wanted it gone.

“No hello for me, sugar?” He drawled as he stood lazily in front of his chair.

Your eyes met his for barely half a second before flitting away hastily as you took off your shoes. “Hey Ev.” 

“Right to business tonight?” Barty asked you then, tilting his head at you as he began cluing into… something that had shifted tonight. 

You did this often; the three of you, that is. 

Sometimes Barty and Evan would invite you over for some drinks and/or a smoke or two before falling into bed together. Sometimes, Barty and Evan will have already been several drinks or blunts in before they messaged you, which you often quickly agreed to as well.

But it had never taken you this long to show up before, it had never been this awkward when you showed up before, and you had never been this detached before. 

“S’why you called, right?” You replied simply, moving towards the sofa in the middle of the room as you started unbuttoning your blouse.

Which, of course they did, but what the fuck?

“Stop.” Evan said as he grabbed your hand, bringing a stop to your movements as you continued avoiding his gaze. “Would you look at me? Please?”

You let out a small breath and met his eyes - again for but the briefest moment - before your gaze fell somewhere around his cheek. 

“Treasure…if you’re not up to this tonight, we don’t have to do anything. We could just-”

“Just what, exactly?” You asked harshly then, turning in the direction of Barty and pinning him with a severe gaze. “This is what we do, right? There’s usually drinks or drugs, a phone call, and sex.” 

And…while that was technically true…what the fuck?

“So?” You asked when no one had anything to say. “Is that why you called?” Your eyes shifted to the ashtray which had a still semi-lit blunt resting in it. “Got high, check. Called me, check. So, why are we still talking about this?”

“It’s not like that.” Evan tried to argue, causing you to scoff a laugh as you held eye contact with him far longer than you had all night, which Evan would have celebrated were you not using it to glare at him. 

“It’s exactly like that, Ev. Why-” You cut yourself off and pushed the heel of your hands to your eyes.

“Why what?” Barty asked in a soft tone Evan had never heard the likes of before. 

You pulled your hands away from your face to expose an achingly pained expression and tear-filled eyes. “Why do you only call me when you’re high?” 

And even though it came out in a whisper, Evan could hear the no doubt painful tension laced in your voice.

“Treasure…”

“It’s not fair.” You continued; tears falling as you turned to look at him. “All of this,” you said as you gestured between the three of you, “has always been your doing. I never instigated these…romps because you guys are the ones in a relationship. But fuck.” 

“We didn’t- …have you wanted more from us?”

A strangled sort of sob escaped your lips as you looked to the ceiling and grabbed at your hair. “You call and I’ve never once declined, Evan. You call and I come running - how fucking humiliating, by the way - and I take what I can get, obviously. If you invite me over and I get to drink and hang out with you guys for a bit and pretend that I’m not just a fucking booty-call, great. If not, well, at least you guys thought of me, right?” You spat sarcastically. 

“Y/N.” Barty called, looking to Evan like he was just as close to the level of tears as you were. “We- I…I had no idea.”

“Yeah, well,” you huffed a laugh and sat dejectedly on the sofa before placing your head in your hands and resting your elbows on your knees, “now you do.”

The room fell to silence as Barty stared at you in horror, you worked on catching your breath, and Evan wished he hadn’t rolled that second blunt so he could at least have a fighting chance at the absolute fucking shit show this evening had turned out to be. 

“This was a mistake.” You announced suddenly, standing up. “I shouldn’t have come, I’m sorry.” 

Barty made some half-yelp, half-cursing sound as he blocked the door with his body and stared at you defiantly. “You can’t fucking leave now! Not like this?”

“Barty…” Evan warned, not wanting you feeling any more uncomfortable than you clearly already were, though also not wanting you to leave when there was obviously a lot to discuss. 

“No!” Barty shouted back at him. “No. You don’t get to show up here and dump this all on us and not give us a fucking chance to respond.” 

“Dump this on you!?” You shot back. “You created this!”

“Okay, enough.” Evan proclaimed as he moved to open a window to get the rest of the sodding smoke out of this flat, hoping that clearer air and visibility would help him think straight. He turned on a few lights for good measure as well.

“She can’t leave, Ev.” Barty nearly begged.

“Well shouting at her isn’t going to help, is it?” Evan argued as he grabbed some bottles of water from the fridge. “Sit down.”

You and Barty exchanged a glance before looking back at Evan. “Both of you.” He amended as he pointed at the sofa, handing each of you a bottle of water once you were seated before taking his own seat and opening one for himself. 

“Can you give us, like, 45 minutes to sober up so we can talk about this, properly? Please?” He sighed after finishing half the bottle. 

You had your legs crossed and your raised foot was bouncing in the air in obvious nerves, but you graciously nodded in agreement. 

“And you’re staying here tonight.” Barty added, quickly rolling his eyes when you turned to argue with him. “Not for sex, for fuck’s sake. So that you can be here with us and we can fix what the hell is going on in that pretty head of yours.”

You stared at him with your mouth open for a few moments before he - rather aggressively, if you asked Evan - grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss before putting it back down on the sofa between each of your thighs, though never actually releasing it from his grasp. 

Yes, Evan silently agreed, let’s fix whatever is going on in that pretty head of yours.

[bunnliix]

When Eight Becomes Nine - Chapter Seven

This was quite the angsty chapter to write, honestly, but it was fun after yesterday's cliffhanger.

Pairing: Ateez x 9th member!reader  Summary: We see the aftermath of the photos, and y/n has an interesting day, though the day isn't quite over yet. wc: 2.6k AU: a/b/o  Genre: Fluff/Angst  warnings: angst, sudden wake up calls, references to twitter not being nice, Dispatch (yes Dispatch is a warning), San being worried, violence, injuries, head injuries, though not described in lots of detail, medical attention, hospitals, talking about injuries being treated though not in great detail, Wooyoung feeling guilty, fighting, derogatory language (fucktoy, being called a toy, whore), slapping, lots of cursing, rude and sexist-ish questions being asked of y/n, this chapter is just angst central with a decent amount of violence, y/n is being slutshamed as an omega, mentions to omegas going through slutshaming, and Seonghwa and Wooyoung in particular, I think this is everything? Yes I know there's a lotta warnings this chapter. masterlist

San was sleeping peacefully, having a nice dream of his pack before he was shaken awake. 

“San-ah, wake up!” Seonghwa said, shaking the younger man awake.

“Hmm? Seonghwa-hyung, what’s going on? Did I sleep in?” He said, voice still full of sleep.

A phone was shoved into his face, and he blinked blearily, eyes still barely open. It took him a couple moments before he could see anything on his hyung’s phone, but once he was able to, his eyes were wide with shock.

“What? How did Dispatch get these photos?” He asked Seonghwa, concerned.

“An anonymous source. Who somehow had access to KQ and took these photos yesterday. Twitter is going wild over it, so don’t check it. Or any Instagram comments either. Pack Alpha’s orders.” Seonghwa informed him.

San became concerned once his Luna told him about Hongjoong’s orders. Hongjoong never usually forbade them from visiting social media, so for him to do so was very worrying.

“What’s going on with the company? What are we doing now?” He questioned.

“They’re bringing in the auditionees for a talk. They’re not sure who it is, but the concern it’s one of the cut auditionees who are unhappy over how attached some of us have gotten with y/n.” He explained to San.

“How do they still have access to the building?” San asked, concerned for their safety now if potentially scorned people have access to them because of the company’s negligence.

“They’re figuring it out. They’ll be restricting access to our areas of the company until they find out who exactly it was. No one that doesn’t need to be in or out of our studios, and our regular dance studio will be locked when we’re not in it.” Seonghwa said, taking this breach of privacy very seriously as it affected his pack members.

Wooyoung burst into the room, having heard most of it from outside of the room, and was frustrated that this was happening.

“What the fuck? They’re ripping her apart on twitter. This isn’t fucking fair to her, nor to us. She shouldn’t have to deal with this because someone took pictures of her while they rested during a dance practice!” Wooyoung yelled, which definitely woke San up if he hadn’t been awake before that.

“Wooyoung, calm down. There’s nothing we can do right now. We’ve been told to stay here at our dorms. We won’t be needed at the company today. “ Seonghwa tried to calm the younger omega, letting out a calming scent to try and soothe the omega’s anger.

It didn’t work. “Don’t you try and calm me down!” He yelled at the elder, “You should be pissed off too, they’re slut shaming her and going after her subgender, and you know that that’s like. Fuck, we both know what’s that’s like, we’ve lived through it!” Wooyoung screamed at Seonghwa, before darting out of the room, ready to risk the company and Hongjoong’s anger just to find a way to get to y/n and comfort her. She didn’t deserve this treatment, no one did. And he doubted any of the others had gone through anything remotely similar to this, and so she needed someone who’s been through this before. And if Hwa-hyung wouldn’t do it, he would.

“Where are you going?” Mingi asked him, having just entered the dorm.

“Going to see y/nnie, she needs someone by her side right now.” Wooyoung said, not looking at Mingi while he put on his jacket and shoes.

“Yeah, you’re not going alone. I’m coming with you.” Mingi decided, knowing that letting the youngest go alone would be a stupid idea.

“I’m fine to go alone! I don’t need you to come.” Wooyoung grumbled, until a hand came to rest on the back of his neck.

“I am going with you, or I’ll scruff you and make sure you don’t leave the dorm. Got it?” Mingi told him in a no-nonsense tone of voice which made Wooyoung shiver.

“Got it, alpha.” Wooyoung said, calming down a bit because he knew if he didn’t, he would be relegated back to the pack den and not allowed to leave unless supervised. Then he’d never get to y/n.

“Let’s go then.” Mingi said, having not taken his shoes off yet, so he was ready to go immediately.

Time Skip back to earlier this morning in the auditionee dorms…

Y/n slept peacefully, until shouts from somewhere else in the apartment woke her up. She stumbled out of bed, throwing on a sweatshirt as she walked to find the source of the noise. It didn’t take long until she found it, a group of the others crowded around a phone. They heard her come in, and before she could process it, she was suddenly looking away from the group. One of the female betas had slapped her. 

“You’re a fucking whore. I bet you’re letting them use you, just so you can become their ninth member. You really think they’ll want you around for more than just a fucktoy? You’re delusional if you think you’re anything more than a toy for them to play around with, and throw away when they get bored of it.”

Y/n felt tears in her eyes but blinked them away, because showing any form of weakness right now, could end with more violence.

“That is your opinion. Though I wouldn’t advise telling that to the members of the group we all have the chance to join. Now I believe we should be getting ready to head to the company, yes? Not standing around reading tabloid news.” She said, before turning around and leaving. But not before she felt something hit the back of her head, feeling the pain bloom from the spot she was hit. But she didn’t want to give them the win by turning around and getting angry at them, so she just continued walking away. 

She ignored any other noises in the dorm as she got ready, waiting for the staff to pick them up. It wasn’t long before a staff member came to their door, directing them to the cars, and Aaron hopped into the seat next to y/n.

“What’s with the images? Like what was going on?” He asked her, curious.

“I was simply taking a break after running choreo and they sat down with me to keep me company, that’s all. There was another staff member in the corner keeping an eye on us, I wasn’t alone with them.” She explained herself honestly but kept it to the point.

“So like you weren’t seconds away from doing anything with them? Even though you’re an omega?” Aaron rudely asked, which made y/n turn to him with a pissed off look.

“No, and I better not hear you ask me things like that again. It’s stereotypical, and you should know that’s fucking offensive. Do I ask you if you do stereotypical beta things? No. So don’t ask me shit like that again.” She told him off, before looking away from him and down at her phone, which was filled with notifications as people found her social media profiles. She quickly moved to turn them private, and tried her best to hide them, while posting for her close friends and family to not believe anything they see online. She spent the rest of the ride ignoring anything happening in the rest of the van.

Once they pulled up to the company, she was one of the first out of the vehicle, though today they weren’t guided to either the practice room, or a studio. Instead they were guided further into the company and into a conference room, where she was kept outside and pulled aside by who she recognized as one of Ateez’s managers.

“First. You don’t need to worry about any accusations from the company about any inappropriate actions, as a staff member was there the entire time. So please know that none of this is your fault, nor the fault of Ateez. We’re deviating from a normal plan today, to try and figure out if any of the others are the cause of this. There’s also suspicion it could be any of those who have been cut, as we have not been as strict on barring them from the company, to which we apologize.” He apologized to her, bowing.

“No no, you didn’t know this would happen, so I don’t blame you. I understand that it’s not an easy job, and the situation you’ve now been placed in doesn’t help.” She replied, being way too understanding, despite the fact that their negligence has resulted in violence against her by her fellow auditionees.

“Is there anyone that you suspect could have done this? Anyone that’s been unfriendly to you?”

“Everyone except Aaron has been unfriendly to me since Seonghwa pulled me away from the group that first day. They believe I’m getting unfair treatment by being able to spend time with the boys one-on-one. So it could be any one of them. I’m sorry I’m not much help.” She said, carefully hiding the fact of what happened that morning.

“Okay, well thank you for letting us know, regardless.” The manager thanked her, “If you want, you can go ahead and head to the practice room if you would like to get some extra practice in. Though the boys won’t be joining you, they’ve been told to stay away from the company for today while we sort things out.” He informed her as she nodded.

“That makes sense, and yes, I’ll head there and practice for a while.” She told him, and he waved her on as the staff that had stayed outside, entered alongside him into the conference room.

She made her way down to the practice room, finding it unlocked. She entered, putting her bag down next to the mirror before starting to stretch and warm up for another rigorous practice. She intended to practice the two choreographies from yesterday, wanting to perfect them so she could show them off to Yunho and San next time. She got into the zone, almost unaware of everything else going on around her. Once warmed up, she ran through the two dances back to back, until she couldn't do anything further, out of energy. She plopped down onto the floor, trying to regulate her breathing as she reached out for her water bottle. She was drinking water to rehydrate, when the door behind her slammed open.

“Baby omega!” Was all she heard before she was tackled onto the ground, hitting her head once again, and she groaned at the impact.

“Wooyoung, we don’t tackle people.” Mingi scolded the hyperactive omega, before pulling him off of y/n so she could sit up again.

She held a hand to the back of her head, and when she pulled it away, there were traces of blood on her palm. She looked down at it, processing the injury on her head, until her hand was harshly pulled out of her view as she heard a whine.

“Baby, did I hurt you? Oh gosh I’m so so sorry!” Wooyoung apologized, worry in his voice before he pulled her into his hold. “Mingi, we need to get her to a doctor!”

“I’m fine, it’s just a tiny wound. I’ll be okay if I wash it out.”

That was before she felt a hand examining her wound. “You need to see a doctor. This isn’t a minor cut.” Mingi said, with a very matter of fact-like tone.

“What?! Oh gosh we need to see a doctor now! Mingi, pick her up and let’s go!” Wooyoung panicked, as Mingi decided it was easier to follow the younger member’s instructions. He picked her up, resulting in a shocked squeak from her as Wooyoung marched the three of them out of the dance room, and out of the company as a whole. As Wooyoung walked over to the alpha’s car and opened the door, the taller man placed y/n gently into the back seat, the other omega having moved to sit in the back next to her. Mingi shut the door, rounding the car and getting in the driver’s seat, before driving to the hospital.

Wooyoung was glad that his fellow pack mate hurried to the nearest hospital. Once they arrived, the same situation happened as y/n was picked up and hurried into the ER, where due to it being an open head injury, she was quickly taken to the back after being registered. To the worried omega’s relief, it wasn’t as serious as it could have been, as the nurses cleaned out the wound before closing the cut and covering it with a bandaid.

“Thankfully, it wasn’t more serious, but be careful washing your hair until the wound is fully closed up, we don’t need it getting infected.” The nurse informed her after she finished. “You are so lucky to have such a nice alpha and fellow omega to bring you here so quickly. Another nurse will be in with papers, and then you’ll be able to leave.” She smiled at all of them before leaving, as y/n tried and failed to correct her in time.

Wooyoung pulled the girl close. “I’m so glad that it wasn’t anything really serious. How long have you had that wound?”

“This morning.” She said quietly. She didn’t need the other omega to go on a warpath against the others.

“This morning!? Who did that to you? Tell me their name. Now.” Wooyoung demanded, moving to stand in front of her.

“It’s fine, it’s not a big deal. It will be dealt with.” She told them, not wanting them to butt into this.

“Wooyoung is right. If it’s one of the others, or anyone else from the company, we can help you with this.” Mingi told her, moving to kneel in front of her. “We may have met not long ago, but we would feel guilty if we weren’t able to help resolve something that may have stemmed from something we’ve done.” He said, trying to get her to see that they just wanted to help.

“It was one of the female betas. She got upset this morning and slapped me. And I assume she’s also the one who threw whatever caused the wound.” She gave in, telling them.

“How fucking dare she. You get slutshamed all over the internet and she does that? Nah she’s fucking out of here right now. I don’t want anyone who will assault others.” Wooyoung said, pulling out his phone to call their manager, moving away from her.

“Has anything else happened because of what was released this morning?” Mingi asked her gently.

“Nothing I haven’t already handled.” She assured him.

Wooyoung quickly returned. “She’s been handled. Turns out she very quickly devolved into insulting you, for a variety of reasons and admitted to hurting you this morning. She’s already been kicked out, and will shortly be headed back to the airport for a flight back to wherever she came from, I didn’t care to listen.”

Thankfully, it was only a couple minutes more until the other nurse arrived with her paperwork, and after a few signatures, she was cleared to leave. This time, Wooyoung carried her, refusing to let her walk despite it not being a leg or foot injury.

“We’re going back to the den.” Wooyoung said, with no room for arguing. Mingi sighed, before driving the three of them back to the pack dorm, or well the largest of the three dorms, so the de-facto pack dorm. This was going to be interesting. Wooyoung had never liked another person, let alone another omega so much that he would bring them back to the pack den. Mingi was sure that this would result in some very surprised pack members.

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[obriengf]

A Gracious Gift || Mitch Rapp x Reader

Summary: Mitch had almost forgotten what it was like to be shown love until you gave him a small token to change his mind. Words: 1.4k Warnings: swearing bc it's mitch... he also has trust issues okay, pretty angsty oops Notes: the first addition to my 2023 xmas fics!

hope he's bringing me love this christmas cause i deserve you here ✩

His nose scrunched, details of exasperation etching themselves deep in the wrinkle between his brows and the frown of his lips. It was a cross between amusement and simple irritation that devoured the man as he stood resistant to the brightly coloured lights that reflected across the warm brown of his irises, arms crossed over his chest and a huff pushing past his lips. Mitch Rapp didn't do Christmas, not anymore. Neither did his ears enjoy the pretentious tunes that flooded the small living room of your safehouse or the irony they held as he stared at the decorated tree beside the small television.

"Is this a joke?" He huffed, once more, head barely turning as his voice carried to the small frame to his left. You didn't reply, his question dripping in all things rhetorical, and instead allowed a smile to curl upward into the shadow of a smirk. His pessimism is something that you're used to by now - starting beyond the tantrum he threw when you were first assigned as his partner. The Assassin grew to like you, however, after many arguments and a handful of times proving yourself. He saw honour within you and a driving force to do right by all, no matter what it took. In turn, you saw a man that hurt where his heart lay, but he used his head as a guard and determination to build up near impenetrable walls. It didn't stop you though, from trying... from showing him that there is much more to this world than Good versus Bad. And eventually, Mitch Rapp became oxygen - you breathed in his presence every single day without fault, but a part of you also desperately needed him to survive. 

"Don't be such a killjoy." You eventually said, proud that you pulled together something so makeshift in such little time allowed. You chuckled at his negative outlook, avoiding the side eye he threw your way as you tentatively reached out to drag a finger across a bright blue bauble. It was hope, a much-needed light in the midst of the cruel world that you face every day. And it just so happened to appear in the form of cheap gas station decorations and an overwhelming scent of pine needles from one of the small trees next to the cabin. You drew a breath as you turned to the man, the whisky tone of his eyes already peering down at you. He was swimming in hesitation, near drowning from it if it meant that he kept himself closed off. "I just wanted to give you a reason to be happy."

Your voice was quiet, and Mitch nearly would have missed it if he wasn't pouring so much of his focus into you. He last celebrated this stupid Holiday with Katrina - when he had a reason to smile, to have hope, to bathe in that happiness that would usually come from such a joyous time. And since then, you had made him smile and he had an inkling of hope, and he had a reason to be happy once again but the pain was still so incredibly present that it continued to devour every single cell in his body until he was just a shell. And Mitch hurt. He always hurt.

You always knew when he was starting to shut down. Mitch's emotions would turn off, like a simple flick of a switch, and the robot persona that the Central Intelligence Agency craved would soon embody the man that you've grown so accustomed to. You would lose him for hours, as if he was asleep and he needed to wake. Mitch Rapp had lost hope for so long and it killed you to see how much it affected him.

Even if it took every single second you owned, you were going to help him. To show the man the love that he deserved. To finally wake him up.

Mitch scoffed and turned away from you, his large hand dragging down his cheek. Words were mumbled against the palm of his hand, "Well, you wasted your time."

"You're never a waste of time, Mitch." You replied, remaining beside the tree as you watched his head hang low. It was expected for him to walk away, but he didn't, his back still to you but his ears listening for the soft coo of your voice. A small smile tugged eagerly at your lips, "You're a lot of things, mostly a pain in my ass, but you're not a waste of time. Especially mine. I'd do anything for you, you know that."

The man exhaled, his head shaking, "You can't fix a broken man, Y/N. Not one whose as fucked as I am."

Your chest tightened. Mitch's exhaustion was wearing him down, his walls cracking, crumbling, and not in the way you thought they would. His sadness tugged at your heart and you were already beginning to second guess if your plan was the right path to take. Gently, you reached to the base of the tree, the lights flickering against the side of your face as you grasped at a small box.

"You're not broken. You're not a waste of time. And if you're fucked up Mitch, then I must be as fucked up as you because we've come from the same place. We've had the same feelings hurt. But we're here, and we're alive and okay. And I'm never letting you go, no matter how much you push me away."

Mitch turned to catch the shimmer in your eyes. He could see the emotion building up and gathering along your waterline, and he had such an overwhelming desire to catch the tears before they fell. He moved forward with large strides before he captured your cheeks within his palms, thumbs rubbing with such tenderness under the tips of your lashes. You always managed to bring him back from the edge of despair, but seeing you with such sentiment was enough to shake some sense into him. He shushed under his breath, any evidence of an Assassin disappearing, and instead a simple man was left behind.

"Please don't cry." He hummed, not daring to look away from your eyes until he felt something hard press to his abdomen. His focus broke, an eyebrow raising in question at a small white box clutched strongly within your hands. Mitch's head tilted to the side, "What's this?"

An unwanted sniffle escaped you before your gaze followed his, the box in question now lifted toward him, "I meant it when I said I'm never letting you go. You mean a lot to me, Mitch, and this is how I was going to show you... instead of crying like a child." An incredulous chuckle ended your response as you ushered the box at Mitch, shaking the small object until he took it from you.

The man was nervous, but curious, pulling lightly at the bow that adorned the top until the fabric fluttered gently to the hardwood floors. The top of the box was removed next and he froze before he picked up the item inside. Mitch's finger ran over it delicately as he peered in disbelief.

"This is for me?" He asked, voice whispered as he held his new pocket knife so gently between you both. All you could do was nod and smile as he looked at you, his own smile perking in happiness.

"Turn it over."

He did as he was told before his lips slightly parted, irises of deep brown flicking over the engraving you left on the hilt -

Always with you.

A clang was heard as he placed the knife on the table beside him, a movement so quick that you almost didn't see it happen as you were gathered in his arms. Arms of your own slid over his shoulders as the man secured your waist, his hold tight and he savoured being so close to you. It was his kick, his wake-up call. It was what he needed to know that hope was not lost. It was his future and the piece that could fill the hole in his heart.

Mitch pressed a kiss tenderly to the crown of your head, his lips then falling to your temple before they pressed again. He was sure that you could feel the thumping in his chest, but he didn't care. Not when he had you wrapped up so perfectly against his frame.

You could feel the warmth of his breath dance against your skin, "I am always with you, too."

[buckgasms]

I realise that this might not be soemthing your interested in writing (and that's ok ily). Just wanted to tell you that after finishing the Dark mafia bucky (not bunny and clyde) I cannot stop thinking about how angsty it could get after the last main part.

Like i, myself, would not be able to handle that shit mentally. Like Reader staying in the bedroom all day because she's so worried and paranoid about soemone seeing her and laughing or soemthing after her... time... with bucky at work. Everytime bucky comes home minory upset or angry she goes into defence mode because she's worried he thinks she has betrayed him again. She can't sleep without him hugging her because all she can imagine is that somehow Rumlow survived and is gonan come kill the both of them.

I'm sorry I love in angst central sometimes <3

Thank you nonnie ilyt 😍 You are so spot on with this 👌🏼

Here is the link to the very dark fic if you are interested

Yeah I think his little bird is going to be so nervous from now on, but I think Bucky would be ok with it you know?

Like he doesn't mind if you don't wanna leave the house because it means he knows where you are and he can watch you on his cameras like a crazy man.

And imagine if his little bird is in his office you always dash under the desk when anyone comes in so you don't have to face them. He chuckles and strokes your hair as you cling to his leg. You sometimes watch as he pulls his cock out of his trousers under the desk and take it in your hand to give you something to focus on.

When you do have to face them you can't work out if they are thinking about it or not. Thinking about how you looked that day, how they applauded and jeered at you, now smiling and being somewhat respectful. It makes you cling to Bucky closer and press your face into his arm or chest for comfort. Your face burns when they chuckle at you, but at least Bucky holds your tighter.

🐦

I think any time he's angry you go very defensive and jumpy. Normally when he's angry he gets it out at work or the gym, so he only comes home really angry very rarely.

You shuffle around the house as you hear him shouting down the phone, slamming doors and all sorts. You plant yourself on the floor where he sits on the sofa, having left your dress on the floor and you shiver in your underwear.

Finally he appears and finds you waiting then for him and be flops down on the sofa and smiles. "Ah there's my little bird, waiting just for me huh?"

You nod and rest your arms on his thighs, smiling up at him, letting him stroke your face and run his fingers through your hair. "Thought you might have had a bad day?" You say softly and gently massage his legs, hands drifting higher, making him sigh.

"You worrying about me birdie? Did I make you nervous?" He smiles and pinches your chin pulling you forwards until you are straddling his lap, his hands squeezing at your waist.

"Hmm, tell me baby, you feeling nervous again?"

You nod and nibble at your finger, sitting down more comfortably on his lap, eyes stinging a little bit. "Don't want you to be mad..." You whisper, as he grips your face between his big hands.

"I'm not mad anymore baby, remember. It's all fixed. All fine now..." He smiles gently, stroking your cheeks and leaning upwards to press little kisses to your nose and cheeks.

You let out a shaky sigh and smile at him, but your heart still hums quickly in your chest.

🐦

You do often wake in the night, screaming, reliving that night where you pulled the trigger. Your body covered in sweat and hands shaking as you struggle to see anything in the darkness.

"Ssshh baby it's ok" you hear Bucky murmur as he pulls you in close to him, letting your sobs wrack through your body. "I gotcha."

"What if he comes back?" You sob as your fingers cling to the thick muscles of Bucky's back, fingers tracing along old scars.

"Ain't gonna happen pretty girl, I promise..."

He rolls over until he's on top, your eyes finally adjusting to the dark see his serious blue eyes staring at you. "He's never gonna come back, and you are safe with me, ok?"

You nod and let him press kisses to your forehead and you cling to him tighter still. You feel his hand wrap around your thigh and lift it higher. His cock is guided into your heat and you gasp as he slides himself slowly into you.

You still feel sensitive from the evenings escapades but that's what helps him glide into you, your body so responsive. "Good girl, always ready for me hmm? You feel that? Feel how easily you take me?"

Your body feels on fire as he gently rocks into you. He presses kisses to your face, licking away tears as you groan.

"My baby, you got nothing to worry about anymore. Just relax, just let me make it all better ok?"

🐦

Ooof yes very angsty but I'm a sucker for a happy ending so I feel like they'll work it out 🤭

[an-actual-attack-helicopter]

Book 6, Episode 1: Startouched Analysis/Commentary

Gotta love how it opens with Ripples in the water reflecting the stars. Go read the short stories if you don't know what I'm talking about.

Aaravos hesitates before crumbling Viren which is the funniest shit to me. This hurts more though, having seen the whole season.

Gotta love how Terry basically said Viren just ran away to go die like an angsty teen.

He got a new son to orphan les goooo

I find the framing of this pretty interesting. Viren is still in the dark while Claudia is standing in the light. You'd think it'd be the other way around. Perhaps it symbolizes how he has come to terms with his dark side, and is going to face it. While he leaves Claudia who, hopefully, can still be redeemed. Because ultimately this isn't her fault, it's his. He's the dark one.

At first I thought it was cruel for Viren to leave Claudia, but I've come to a realization. Claudia is better off without him. He is the reason she's done all this, and nothing will change if she keeps having to save him. She needs to let go. I'm not sure if this was intentional on Viren's part, but he made the right choice nonetheless.

Man, what is it with this show and blindfolds? So far they have showed up in Harrow's little flashback speech, on the Celestial elves, and here. Is this anything??

I was expecting to be annoyed by the baitlings' presence in this season, but they didn't actually get in the way much. Glad the writers read the room. They were mostly just used to fill the comic relief void that soren has left.

Also, I love how Jason Simpson still managed to weasel his way into the High Council through Barius, since Viren isn't exactly, yk, in that position.

DESTROY IT? CALLUM, HAVE YOU EVEN LISTENED TO THE MAGNUS ARCHIVES?

THE TABLE, CALLUM. THE TABLE!!!! Bro really be like "it's remarkably easy to buy a Novablade in central Starscraper."

Also, the way Rayla says "pearl" sounds like "peril."

They play Aaravos's little motif-melody-thingy throughout this scene. Yk, from I See You and Follow my Lead. Glad to cross that off my bingo card.

You can't see it here but the eye-movements in this scene are great. I think the animation and lighting really shine in this season. Pun intended.

Barius doing some casual baking at like 1 AM or something. Bro got insomnia /j. I mean, who are these for? They don't have fridges so they can't save em for long. Maybe Callum got him some sorta magical fridge. Or- wait- maybe they do have, like, a primitive fridge. Was that a thing? Oh actually, maybe Callum and Rayla just go to bed early. Lmfao

And there we have it, the first Viren-Callum parallel of the season. Just like episode 1 of season 1, he barges into the King's bedroom.

Alright, so. Other than this line being hilarious, I'm thinking the frustrating switcharoo that turns the latter half of the season into a bloodbath happened here. Was pretty foolish of Callum to think the pearl would be safe with him on his way out.

Ezran is saddened by everyone's departure. I'm not sure why, but it's worth noting.

They pretty much have her say "my dad is gone" just so that using this clip as a trailer wouldn't spoil anything lmao. I've been waiting to say that since Wondercon.

And now Claudia is the one leaving, as she steps out of the purifying light of the setting sun. Everyone, please give Terry a round of applause for continuing to love her despite this.

And now for the credits:

These are similar. Opeli is from the credits of this episode, and Harrow, from the credits of one from Season 2.

We need this to be a shirt.

Ahhh so Aaravos isn't the only Startouch elf with a star on their chest. I might be a little late to noticing that. Idk.

WHY THE HELL IS TERRY THE ONLY ONE CRYING FOR SIR SPARKLEPUFF? WHAT THE FUCK?

One last thing. Is it just me or is the outro song a little different? Music people, help me. I must know.

But yeah, banger episode, banger season, banger show. Imma be doin' these for all the season 6 episodes. At this rate, they will all have more words than Fallout Equestria. /j

Alright, time to take my meds. 💀

[wkemeup]

I Am Not My Own

summary: Following the Battle of New York, Steve begins to lose himself to the mantle of Captain America. Torn with guilt over the loss of his friend and struggling in a time that does not belong to him, Steve takes comfort in his only solace. 

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 3.8k

warnings: descriptions of a panic attack, sad boy angsty steve 

a/n: This takes place between Avengers 1 and TWS. Based on an anon request from ages ago along the lines of exploring “the impact of traumas like seeing Bucky falling from the train and the guilt over Bucky's capture, the feeling of displacement which he kept quiet while carrying the mantle of Captain America.” Title inspired by a lyric in Party of One by Brandi Carlile. 

Steve Rogers looks upon the crowd gathered below the podium – a sea of star-spangled commercialized t-shirts and homemade costumes. Adoring fans scream as they hold posters raised above their heads professing their love and allegiance. Even as he stands in the back corner of the stage attempting to fade into the shadow cast by the American flag beside him, it does not sway the attention of the crowd.  

He can still feel them watching him. Waiting for him. Bouncing on the balls of their feet in anticipation of his slightest movement.  

The mayor nears the end of her well-rehearsed speech, and the crowd begins to grow antsier with every second. They’re not here for the mayor’s latest initiative to rebuild the subway following yet another otherworldly attack defended by the Avengers. No – they're here for him.  

He almost misses his cue when the mayor steps back from the podium and gestures for him to come forward. The crowd alights with excitement; applause echoing through the treetops of Central Park and casting birds from their homes on the branches.  

Steve settles the racing tempo in his chest and presses a tight smile onto his face before he steps from the shadow. It’s what he was trained to do, after all. He shakes the mayor’s hand as he’s done for the last four mayoral projects – none of which have held up to their promises to help the people of this city, but they’ve increased the mayor’s polling averages and the eased public tension toward SHEILD, and he supposes that was all it was ever meant for anyway. 

So, Steve waves a hand to the crowd and throws on the charming grin he practiced in the mirror earlier that morning. He poses for pictures in the stance shown to him by the rather uptight woman in PR and he pretends for a moment that this is all there is.  

No nightmares that chase him through the cold dark of his dreams until he wakes in blinding terror. No aliens slipping through a hole in space above New York. No memories of a hand he was inches from reaching; of the cold, blistering wind through the snowcapped mountains. No echoing of a scream he’ll never be able to erase as his best friend falls to the ravine.  

It’s only the flashing lights. The tight grip of the mayor’s hand in his. The endless chanting of his name through the crowd. 

A strange feeling comes over him as the sea of voices begins to fade, as he listens to a chorus of strangers call his name – praising a hero he does not recognize in the mirror. He hears his name and realizes it does not belong to him anymore.  

Steve Rogers. Captain America. His name, his title, stripped from his grasp and given to a podium he never asked for. The mantle of the hero Steve can hardly live up to – painted only in light acceptable to the public relations department on level seven.  

They erased the dark lingering under his bones and pretended like there is little more to their prized trophy than the glory of red, white, and blue. Because what use is he to them if they discover he is just as broken and battered as the rest of the soldiers left to rot on their own after they’re returned to US soil? What good is Captain America if he can hardly sleep through the night? If he’s constantly looking over his shoulder for the next threat? If he’s got a boulder on his back crippling his spine, burdened with such guilt and shame, he’s certain he’ll drown under the weight of it? 

Pieces of him were torn away in the wreckage of the Atlantic, shredded remains left behind in the forties, lost to the battlefields in the city he grew up in. Fragments ripped from his clutches under bleeding nails and given to the people chanting his name, to the lawmakers in their ivory towers, to the only sense of purpose he could find within the walls of the Avengers Tower. 

He realizes it then. Steve Rogers is not his own.  

*** 

“Captain Rogers!” a shrill voice calls behind him as he trudges through the main lobby of the tower. Heels click behind his PR agent, Linda, as she struggles to keep up with his long strides. She means well. He knows she does. But he also knows she’s more of a babysitter than anything else – hired to make sure Steve doesn’t stray too far from the picture-perfect image they have set up for him.  

His escape plan is thwarted by the elevator when it refuses to open its door before she catches up.  

“You’re a fast one, aren’t you?” Linda huffs, trying to catch her breath. She's laughing as if she’s in on the joke, but Steve can barely muster a smile.  

All he wants is to get this damn uniform off – to rid himself of the mockery it’s become and the outright lie of heroism attached to it. He feels like he might suffocate under it, like the fabric might burst into flame and devour him whole if he doesn’t peal it from his skin in time. He can already feel the singing burn against his forearms, against his chest, against his back. It’s boiling hot. It’s agonizing. It’s– 

“Don’t forget about the auction this Saturday! You’re our top earner!” Linda chimes, scribbling something down in her notebook just as the elevator doors open. Steve exhales a sigh of relief when she does not follow him inside. She doesn’t even look up at him as she rattles off the rest of his upcoming schedule. He lets the doors close before she finishes. He wonders if she will even notice.  

The sudden silence in the elevator might have been a relief if not for the constant ringing in his ears. Steve lifts a shaking hand to the strap of his helmet and unlatches it. Slowly, as the elevator begins to climb, he pulls it off. Weight slips from his body but it’s not enough. It’s like removing a stone from the back of a boulder – insufficient and pathetic.  

He doesn’t have to look at his reflection in the silver doors to know there are red marks lining his face around where the mask meets his skin. They’ll fade in a few minutes, but they’re deep now. They look like mutilations upon the bone itself. He had asked once to adjust the framing of the helmet to avoid the painful marks, but he was told the alterative designs didn’t poll well in focus groups.  

Though he tries to avoid it, Steve catches a glimpse of his reflection in the dull shimmer of the sliver doors. His hair is unkept, messy from the helmet and a rough night of sleep. The bright reflection of red, white, and blue stares back as if to mock him. But what startles him the most is the weight in his own eyes. He looks tired, he realizes. Dark circles under his eyes that never learned to fade after he took his first sip of bourbon alone in an empty bar the night he lost his best friend.  

And that crowd dared to call him a hero.  

Steve can’t help the shiver that sweeps up his spine. It isn’t a pleasant one. No – it's dark and cold and leaves his fingertips shaking enough that only the sharp curl of his fist is all that eases him. And even then, it’s not enough. The tremors retreat up his arms, past his shoulders, and burrow into his chest around his heart where he’s certain the muscle will twist in on itself until it gives out entirely. 

He doesn’t notice the elevator doors have parted until they begin to close again. Steve quickly slips through the small opening before they can trap him inside. 

He’s sweating by the time he reaches his room, though he knows the air conditioning is blowing full blast. It’s not the heat of the tower, but his own heart pulsing into overdrive. It’s the kind of panic he endured as a scrawny kid in Brooklyn, so he recognizes the feeling as it settles in.  

He might have thought the serum would have taken care of the panic attacks for him, but as it turns out, even superheroes aren’t immune to the consequences of guilt and shame.  

Steve digs a hand under the collar of his suit, trying to peel away the fabric from his chest but there are too many zippers. Too many straps and hooks. His hands fumble desperately with the latches but it’s taking too long to rid himself of the material. It's as if the walls are closing in on him – suffocating him, burying him.  

He can’t stand the uniform. It doesn't matter how many focus groups the design has undergone or how much cutting-edge technology they sew into the fabric. It’s still the same lie. The same goddamn lie.  

He’s not a hero.  

He's a propaganda poster.  

He watched his best friend fall to death. He laid waste to his own city in an attempt to save it. He aligned himself with politicians and intelligence agencies that puppet him around like he’s little more than a poster boy. He’s not saving anyone. He can’t save anyone.  

He’s nothing.  

He’s weak. He’s pathetic. He’s — 

“Steve?” 

He freezes at the sound of your voice. The top of his suit is half hanging off his chest, still stuck to his left arm from all the damn sweat. He keeps his back to the door where he knows you’re standing, where he knows you’re looking at him with devastating pity in your eyes. He can hear the confusion in your voice, the concern. He knows what you must think of him.  

Your footsteps carry you into the room though he refuses to turn around. He can feel your gaze trailing over him, observing every ounce of the high, rapid rising of his chest, of the flush on his skin, and the sweat beading into his hair. You set your hand against his forearm as you step in front of him and slowly, Steve dares to meet your eyes.  

Whatever pity he was preparing for is absent. Instead, he finds only a kind understanding that nearly knocks him off his feet. It’s too much. It’s more than he deserves. And yet, there you are.  

Without saying a word, your hand slides up along his arms to begin working the suit from his tired body. He barely moves a muscle as he allows you to peel away the fabric, gentle hands coaxing over his tense muscle. Your lip tugs between your teeth in the effort and Steve can’t help but watch the sharp indent you make, how red it is when you finally release it from your bite.  

A chill sweeps over him as you remove the jacket and set it carefully on the bed. He takes in as much of a breath as his lungs will allow – finally able to breathe now that the suit is no longer suffocating him.  

You glance at him cautiously before your eyes dip to his belt. 

“I’ve got it,” he tells you then, his voice a little rough at its edges, but at least he’s not gasping for air anymore.  

You nod and step back, though you do not leave his room. Steve picks up a pair of sweatpants he discarded the evening before and takes them to the bathroom with him. He doesn’t dare a glance at the mirror, doesn’t want to know how flushed his skin has become under the rapid mixture of shame and panic. He doesn’t want to know what you must see when you look at him – this pathetic, hollow shell of the patriotic symbol plastered upon t-shirts and billboards and recruitment posters.  

He steps out of his boots, discards the navy-blue pants to the corner tiles, and pulls on the soft fabric of old, familiar sweats. It’s soft against his skin. Loose. Discolored with age with fraying drawstrings and a rip at the hem under his heel. It’s everything the suit isn’t and Steve can finally breathe again.  

By the time he gathers himself, he expects you to have left his room. You were dressed in your gym clothes as if you were on your way to the weekly sparring match with Natasha the rookies couldn’t stop gossiping about. You have places to be, clearly. You don’t need to be wasting your time tending to... whatever just happened with him. You’re not his babysitter.  

Hell – Steve isn’t sure what you are to him, but he knows he doesn’t want you to see him like this and he’s grateful all the same. Conflict wars within him; this urge to push you away so you never witness his failings again and his desperation to sink into your arms until he finally believes the gentle encouragements you whisper.  

But, of course, Steve finds you sitting patiently on his bed when he emerges from the bathroom. You stand as soon as you hear the door open, hands fidgeting in your lap. Your gaze drags over him, noticing every bare inch of his chest and the discarded remains of his suit on the floor behind him.  

Your lips part, but Steve is the first to speak.  

“You don’t have to be here.” 

You furrow your brow, confused. “If you're about to tell me you're fine, don’t.” 

Steve doesn’t look at you because he knows you’ll be able to read right through him. “It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with. I can manage.” 

Something akin to anger flashes over your features, which surprises him. “You’ve been managing for years, Steve. You can’t keep going on like this.” 

“You think I don’t know that?” Steve hisses back, surprising himself.  

You don’t flinch at his bite, but he notices the sharp intake of your breath, the surprise that alters your balance just a fraction. Subtle expressions and movements he should not be able to recognize. Another gift of the serum he has come to resent. 

You swallow, but you do not cower from him. “I know you’re hurting. I know the weight of the world is sitting on your shoulders. Let me help you. Let me carry some of that weight, Steve. Please.” 

He hears the ache in your voice, the desperation, and it nearly brings him to his knees. But he locks the joints and refuses to give in. He can’t show weakness now. He can’t. Because he knows he’ll crumble under it. And you’ve been too good to him – too kind, too generous with your time, too willing to offer him warm smiles he didn’t deserve.  

The air conditioner hums over his head as a tunnel of cold air pushes into the room. It’s not enough to quell the sweat on his hair line, and still, he starts to shiver. For a moment, he feels ice under his palms. He feels the wind whipping against his face as he clings to the cold metal of a moving train. He feels Bucky’s fingertips slipping out of reach. He hears— He hears the rusted screws give out under his friend’s weight. The short, sharp snap.  

He braces himself for what he knows comes next. The frightened look in Bucky’s eyes as a weightlessness takes him for a fraction of a second. The air suddenly ripped from his own lungs as the realization sets in. And then – the scream.  

It follows him to his dreams. It haunts every waking silence. Bucky’s scream as he fell into the ravine. 

It happened so quickly and still, Steve remembers every second if he’d drawn each frame himself. Every line upon Bucky’s face. The feel of the ice under his palms. The sting of the wind against his cheeks. The shame burning holes into his chest as he watched Bucky fall until he couldn’t stomach it anymore and he turned away.  

“They keep telling me I’m a hero,” Steve says, though his voice is little more than a whimper. “But I’m not. I’m... I’m nothing. I’m no one. I’m an experiment designed to be the perfect soldier and I... I still couldn’t save him.” 

He risks a glance at you to find your eyes are wet with tears. He knows then that he doesn’t need to specify. You were with him at the Smithsonian when he first saw the exhibit dedicated to Captain America and the Howling Commandos. You saw Bucky’s face carved into glass and the footage of his youth. You held his hand when he felt like he might collapse under the weight of those memories. 

So perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised by how easily you move towards him, how effortlessly you take his hand in yours and gently guide him towards the bed. His legs feel weak, his body aching and tired, so he does as you silently ask and sits on the edge of the bed. You crawl up beside him, kicking off your sneakers, and you tug him until he lays his full body across the mattress with you beside him.  

You don’t say a word as you maneuver his arm to lay across your waist and guide his head to lay over your chest. It’s no small task given his size, but he uses what is left of his strength to follow your lead. When you're finished and his right leg is hooked between yours, his right arm curled around you, his ear resting over your heartbeat, Steve feels the weight ease a little from his back. The dizziness begins to fade, the fog over his mind dissipating. He concentrates on the steady thump of your heart until it drowns out the memories threatening to pull him under.  

“You’re a good man, Steve,” you tell him softly. He feels the vibration of it in your chest and clings to it. Your hand slips into his hair, fingertips running gently against his scalp, and he sighs at the sensation. “The world sees you as Captain America. To them, you will always be a hero.”  

He tenses at the word, but you don’t back down.  

“Don’t mistake me,” you continue, “you are, but you are so much more than what they expect you to be.” 

Steve shifts against you, but your hold on him doesn’t relent. You don’t shy away from his discomfort or his shame. You don’t wipe your hands of his fears. Instead – you hold him through it.  

“You are the man who makes a fresh pot of coffee every morning after the team downs the first batch because you know it takes me longer to drag myself out of bed.” You only smile as surprise jolts in Steve’s chest. He doesn’t lift his head to look at you, but he can feel the soft brush of your fingers trail from his scalp down along his neck, brushing against his jawline in ginger strokes as if to soothe away his worries.  

“I know you think I haven’t noticed, but it’s kind of hard to miss how wonderful you are.” There’s a breath of laughter in your voice – as if relief hangs on the end of every syllable. “You are the man who volunteered to teach basic combat after hours to the rookies who are falling below their benchmarks. You entertain all of Sam’s ridiculous attempts to outrace you and you have this uncanny ability to make Natasha laugh even when she’s veering on the edge of darkness. You are kind and sweet and thoughtful and a good, decent man.” 

Steve wonders then if you can feel how frantic his heart is beating. Not from adrenaline, not from panic or fear, but born of something else entirely. Something that had to do with the way your hands soothed over his tense muscles, how you touched him so easily and so gently it was if you drew new strength back to his bones.  

“And I know,” you begin, taking in a long breath, “I know you would have given your life in a second if it meant saving Bucky’s.” 

Steve anticipates his stomach to bottom out, to feel the floor collapse under him. He’s certain the walls will cave around him and suffocate the last ounce of air from his lungs, but he only feels you. He feels every stroke of your touch, every steady pulse of your heart under his ear. He feels you against him and around him and holding him and somehow – that paralyzing dread he expects never comes. Instead, all that remains is a hollow, painful ache – a memory, a grief.  

“I see you,” your voice comes as a gentle murmur against the tension surrounding his heart. “I see the man behind the uniform. I see you, Steve Rogers.” 

Something breaks in him at the sound of his name on your lips. He has spent too many years giving himself over to the mantle of Captain America; erasing any trace of the vulnerable, grieving man under the surface. He allowed himself to be made into a symbol, a puppet, a caricature for SHIED, that he’d begun to drown under the weight of it.  

But you –  

You saw him gasping for air. You saw him struggling to stay afloat as salt water spilled into his lungs. You saw him and dragged his broken, aching body to shore.  

Steve curls his arm a little tighter around you and he feels you sigh relief against his crown. Pieces of himself mend together by glue and tape the longer he spends in your embrace, with every reminder you offer of the man behind the mask.  

“It’s easy to lose myself sometimes,” he murmurs against your chest.  

You sigh, your chest lifting his resting head with a long inhale. “I know, darling. And I will always be here to guide you back.” 

It doesn’t matter then what you are to him, he realizes, because he knows he loves you regardless. He must, because nothing has ever calmed him as easily as you do. He’s never found a safer solace than when he caves into the security of your arms. You are his anchor, his grounding upon uneven waters.  

And you gave him back his name.  

---

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

[the-cookie-of-doom]

Okay guys, you've convinced me lol, here's the gist of the Kim/Porsche idea!

The Kittisawats are a rival mafia family led by Porsche

When Kim is ~18, instead of running away to college, he sells himself to Porsche to be his sex slave. It's surprisingly wholesome.

This happens bc Kim discovers Tawan's being sketchy. Kinn doesn't believe him, so Kim tries to find more evidence, only to learn Korn is also involved (not directly, but he makes it very easy for Tawan to find secrets to sell, and be the snake he is). Kinn doesn't believe Kim about this either, but now he's angry bc Kim is trying to tear down Tawan and their father, while he's blinded by love and respect for both.

So Kim runs straight to Porsche

The conditions for his deal: Porsche gets Kim and everything he knows, as long as Porsche protects him from his father, swears not to hurt Kinn, and takes care of Tawan. Kim just wants to keep his family safe. But he knows he's just become a traitor, and his father won't let that stand. So. He's stuck with the Kittisawats. (It's not a hardship. He's honestly treated so much better by Porsche, feels more free as his slave than his father's son, and isn't that fucked up.)

At this point, Porsche isn't sleeping with men yet. There's some interest but no follow through. But Kim is offering himself up, so like. That's what he's supposed to do, right?? That seems like the thing to do. Because Kim's his sex slave now. So they should have sex.

Neither of them have any idea what they're doing. Kim's being heavily influenced by Vegas' psychotic stories of his sex pets, so that's what he expects from Porsche, and that's the role he's trying to fill. Porsche is just going along for the ride.

(It ends up angsty later bc neither of them actually want this. Or, they don't want it like this.)

Porsche does think Kim is very pretty, which leads to some... interesting situations. Some dubcon gender. Kim is going to play the part of his beautiful demure mistress because he feels like he has to. And it's easier this way, separating himself from the situation by playing this role, changing every aspect of himself down to his voice. (Until he has an identity crisis and a breakdown about it.)

This actually becomes a central part of the fic, but I don't want to spoil the surprise.

After Kim's break down, they start over, establish some boundaries and expectations. Once Kim gets comfortable enough to feel safe with Porsche, and his place under Porsche's power, he becomes an absolute gremlin. Porsche loves it, he's so fun, he's such a little shit.

Another central part of this fic is that Kim has OCD and slight agoraphobia. The agoraphobia comes after he betrays his father, it's a gradual onset. First he's just in hiding, but then Porsche starts trying to make him go out more. He's heard stories about Kim's eldest brother who never leaves the tower, he doesn't want Kim to end up like that. But Kim resists him at every turn, until it's just. Natural for him not to leave. (Chay will later get him outside, but not for a while.)

The OCD has always been there. But Korn isn't exactly a beacon of mental healthy support, so Kim has no idea what it is. All he knows is that he's Odd, that there are certain rituals he has to perform or else he feels like he's going to die, or someone else is, and he's usually punished for it. I don't want to get into all of them here but !!! I've spent the past few days coming up with self-soothing rituals for Kim and they are so good. It's not the usual generic habits like ~clean freak~ or ~counting things~, they're connected to his specific traumas, and they are so. excellent. they make me so happy.

So yeah! There you go! It starts out almost like an arranged marriage trope, Kim sells himself to Porsche, they eventually relax around each other, and they become excellent friends (who fuck, but don't fall in love). Kim uses family secrets to help Porsche get a leg up on his father. Porsche eventually helps mend Kim's broken relationship with Kinn (DubCon brother bonding).

Oh! And while Porsche isn't particularly kinky in this story, Kim is, so Porsche has to learn how to be a good dom for him. Once again the way that happens is very angsty, but it turns out great for them! Kim just needs someone to put him in subspace and leave him there for a while, get him out of his head. It's as close to therapy as he's likely to get.

[amsgrey]

I judt found this draft/idea thing in my drafts from over two years ago (written before Little Sister Hugs) and i genuinely cracked up so much rereading it bc it would be really funny.

would anyone be interested in this?

Jay and hailey are busy with a case involving drug trafficking with military dudes or smth

you and will go out for dinner bc you get like n A+ in science or some shit and Will is all proud older brother

you get a call from Jay that the case is ramping up so he wont be home tonight and then ur like lit ill stay at wills i just gotta grab some stuff

you and will walk in and the house is like a mess and your like uh wtf

and will is like ok let me call jay or the cops or whatever

before he can he gets like smacked from behind like all those stupid movies

ur like o shit what the actual fuck

these big old dudes are in all black and holding like riffles bc intimidating and ur like :o

and ur standing in the kitchen so you do that really funny grab for the closest weapon and its like a pan that was waiting to dry or something entirely useless

theyre like yeah ok sure put it down u dimwit

u like stand over will being like feck off my brothers a cop

theyre like ha lol yeah we know we tryna find him where he at

ur like ha what i dont know? wouldn't have a clue

and theyre like ok then u come with us and ur like uh no sir

omg what if they chloroformed them that would be the funniest trope ever

jay is like workin the case being all undercover n shit and then he gets a call and its wills phone and hes like oh what did y/n do

will is like silent

jay is like yo whats up u alg

OR WHAT IF ITS LIKE WHAT THEY DID TO SAY WHERE THEY JUST SEND LIKE A SUPER FUCKING ANGSTY SHIT QUALITY VIDEO OF THEM LIKE BEATING WILL WHICH IS SUPER FUCKING NOT FUNNY BUT IS FUNNY TO IMAGINE THE UNO REVERSE FOR JAY

Jay immediately looses his mind and tries calling u like wheres will tf

obvi u dont answer and hes like this aint right

the team go to jays house and its all like torn apart but nothign like bad?

they call in the lab and the labs were like oh hey there's blood but they cleaned it? or smth

jay is spiralling and then they get anoter video of u? idk something else angsty

theyre like release our dude and give us back all the idk like guns and shit and voight is like ok well no way they let us do that

jay almost going cowboy cop

everyones like well this is great

you are like locked up by zipties bc criminals are stupid and you manage to like breakfree like a real mvp

u like find a gun or smth bc thats fun and free will

your all like well theres enough warehouses n creepy buildings in chicago for u to be anywhere so tf where we at

wills all leave me bc thats a funny trope and ur like shut the fuck up u dumbass

some military dude comes round the corner with his gun and sees u tryna walk with dead weight will and hes like? what are-

you shoot him bc badass bitch

he like fall down is all bloody and ur like o shit i just killed a man

will is like ya we gotta go ok like this shit serious fam

you walk around a corner and they all be sitting around in the big room and u and will are like oh hi guys

they all like point guns and ur like ah man we dead

but then!! intellegence is all out ur guns on the ground now! police things!

one of them like aims his gun but someone shoots his gUN bc i think thats the badassest thing ever and then he like has a bleeding hand and grabs u and knife to the throat thing bc trope central over here

no one has a clean shot so they all like omg dude let her go

do u get like seriously hurt? lowkey imagine like them dying and jay and will being like a mess ok thats way too dark but i like?

you either

die

get seriously maimed like idk loose a limb or smth idk

or ur unharmed and are like omg how am i not even bruised tf is this

depends on the level of angst idk

if anyone wants to ready this lmk i might actually write it

[buzzyb33]

hiii it me..can i get angsty smut of josh if you're comfortable please...also loved your last fic so cute xoxo

Prompt: Y/n going out with one of her childhood friends and it instantly getting photographed and sent to josh- though he knew she wouldn’t cheat on him- though, he hadn’t told his friends you and him were even together, he was already having a bad day and this just pissed him off more- ending in sloppy forgivings.

Warnings: swearing, SMUT, dirty talk, angsty.

I wait on the side of the busy streets of London after meeting up with Keegan, a friend from my secondary school I haven’t seen in years.

I had a small smile on my face as I wait for my Taxi, I’d already let josh know I was on my way back but I hadn’t got a response.

I see my uber and climb in, I arrange my schedule as I get ready to tell josh about my day.

As I get home I pull my converses off and clear my throat.

“Josh?”

I call as I walk into the living room.

He isn’t in their so I assume he was in his office or our room.

“Josh! I’m back!”

I shout as I go to wash my hands.

“Where were you?” He says as I jump slightly and turn to him.

“I was out with a friend from my secondary school.”

I look at his face and I can tell he’s pissed off, he has a small frown etched into his features and his stance is more firm.

“Yeah- right, Y/n-“ he exhales.

“Don’t do this- you’re clearly pissed off at something don’t try to use me to get more annoyed.” I say and he rolls his eyes.

“I don’t do that- I didn’t ask who you was with- though it was my next question, where were you?” He says again and I narrow my eyes.

“Central London, a coffee shop.” My voice is firm as I look up at him.

“Who were you with?” He asks as his eyes narrow into mine.

“Keegan Cooper- a friend of mine when I was younger.” I challenge him.

“So- just a friend?” He questions and I loose my guard for a second.

“Josh are you taking the piss- you think-“

He cuts me off “I don’t think anything y/n, I just asked you a question.”

“Yes, he’s just a friend.”

He hums and turns around, going to his office.

I scoff and go to our room.

-

“Y/n! Come here please..” I hear josh and I go downstairs, I was still in my black pencil skirt and grey jumper.

“What? Do you want another argument?” I hold back an eye roll and he sighs.

“No- come here.” He replies with a soft sigh and I narrow my eyes.

“I’m close enough.”

“Please?” I exhale and he taps his thigh, I sit down on his lap hesitantly and he kisses my cheek.

I sit to face him, my legs on either side of his thighs.

I tuck myself closer to him and he groans lightly, I kiss his bearded cheek.

His calloused hands find my hips and he breathes in the scent of my hair.

I get his motives and move my hips lightly on his, his breathes getting deeper as his fingers dig into the flesh in my thighs.

I breath as he pulls back and looks into my eyes for permission I kiss his lips briefly and nod.

He pulls down his tracksuit bottoms and leaves himself in his boxers, his cold hands traveling up my jumper giving me goosebumps, I shiver as no words are exchanged between us, his hands go to my jumper and I lift my arms up as he pulls it off, my hips still moving lightly, his mouth going to my breast bone.

Soft whimpers leave my mouth as I speed up my pace, feeling his hard-on getting more intense.

He grunts lowly as his lips travel further down, his right sliding up and down my waist.

I could tell from his movements he was still pissed off so this was going to be rough.

Meh pulls his mouth off of me and brings me onto my back underneath him, my skirt rolled at my hips, my black panties already damp.

He mumbled something under his breath as his lips went to my jaw, his hands on his waistband.

“You ready?” He said with almost a dark tone to his normally energetic voice.

I meet his eyes and nod.

He pulls his boxers down, his cock springing free as I bite my lip, my cheeks flushing.

He pulls down my panties, leaving my bottom half bare except my socks.

He grips my hips, sure to leave marks for tomorrow as he eases himself inside of me, my ankles meeting at his tail bone.

He gives my little to no time to adjust before he starts thrusting, low grunts leaving him as his mouth goes to my breasts which were still covered by my bra, he pulls it down with his mouth and sucks my breasts as my head goes back, his hips snapping into me.

He grumbles and speaks: “this is- all me- yeah? ‘s all mine… ain’t it n/n?” He says in between pants.

I nod as I squeeze my eyes shut.

“Y-ye- fuck josh-! Yeah.. all yours..”

He grins as his hips somehow snap into mine harder.

“Yeah- t-that’s what I fucking thought.. just me..” he groans out as he brings his calloused hands to my waist as he keeps on thrusting.

I breath out moans of pleasure, my eyes pricking with tears at his sheer size.

“My body- yeah- yeah..” he mumbles to himself as I feel myself clench around him, his grunts getting deeper and his thrusts harder.

My moans getting more high pitched as I grip the back of his neck, my arms around him.

“Josh- I- I’m close-“ I grown out as he opens his eyes.

“You can go more than one- can’t ya? Cum on my cock.. yeah..” he groans as he slows down a bit.

I tremble as I hit my first climax- and definitely not last- of the night.

“Good girl…” he breaths, and I swear to god, I could cum again from that alone.

Through out the night, we switched positions and I rode him, kissed him and sucked his neck.

After all the sex, he pulled out of me, some fun dripping of his semi-erection- a mix of both of ours.

He pulls his boxers back up as I sit on his thighs, exhausted.

He pulls my panties back up for me and picks me up, taking us into the master bedroom.

He tells me not to fall asleep as he runs a nice hot bubble Bath.

We had had sex before and after care was something he did, but it had never really crossed my mind how much effort he put into it, how much effort he put into us.

He comes back in as his sleeves are pulled up and his hands are wet.

He gives me a smile and leans down to pick me up again.

I smile at him.

“Josh-“

He cuts me off.

“No, you don’t need to.”

He instructs me to undress which I oblige, feeling a little more self conscious.

He undressed himself as we climb into the bath together, my back to his chest as he massaged my scalp with shampoo and silence.

“You okay?” He asks, a gentle touch of concern in his voice.

Although he was rough, it was very fucking pleasurable.

“Yeah, I’m okay- are you?” He hummed in response.

“You sure I didn-“ I cut him off.

“I’m sure.”

He smiles as the bathroom sets into comfortable silence.

As we get out the bath he kisses my lips the second I’m in my pretty little thing pyjamas and pulls on a vest and some bottoms.

As he climbs in bed with me he looks into my eyes and I look back, before they wonder and see the mark I left on his neck that he was more than aware about.

“I’ve got a recording in the morning so I might not be here when you wake up, Kay?” He asks as I nuzzle into his chest.

I nod as his arms wrap around me, and I think at that moment I realised this is the man I want to spend the rest of my life with.

The following morning, josh had forgot to mention or even bother hiding the hickey on his neck.

The problem was, y/n was another content creator in his circle, she made comedy skits with other YouTubers and had a podcast with Becky bambino.

He was recording ”sidemen who wants to be a millionaire 2” and took off his hoodie where his neck was very clearly on show, though he didn’t think about it nor attract much attention.

“I’d like to phone a friend, please.” Ethan says as he looks At Harry.

“Okay! And is this friend in the studio or call them?” Harry asks as he crosses his arms.

“I’d like to ask Zerkaa please-“ everyone looked at josh and Tobis jaw actually dropped.

“What?” He said as their faces mirrored shock.

“Josh, you’ve been busy!” Harry laughs as josh frowns.

“What do you me- oh.” His face instantly turns a bright shade of red.

“Well-“ he utters as he covers his face.

“Who josh?! Do we know them?” Tobi asks as JJ laughs loudly.

“…”

“Yeah, you know her..”

Quite well, too.

A/n:

FIRST SMUT?? I don’t mind this one ibr.

By the way, should be a new fic every 3-5 days!

Requests are open!

Masterlist!

[fizzyxcustard]

Just My Imagination.

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: Spooks

Pairings: Lucas North x Original Female Character (Amy Holland)

Warnings: Undercover agents, angst, insecurity, anxiety.

Word count: 5725

Summary: From the imagine: "Imagine that you are on an operation with Lucas North, where you have to use a cover story that you’re in a relationship. Only Lucas plays the part a little too well."

Comments/Notes: Requested by anon. Requested as Lucas x Amy. THANK YOU. You know how much I love writing about Lucas and Amy. This piece was requested to be a romantic comedy, but I’m so sorry to say that it wound up just being angsty again. 

I hope you like the fic. As always, like, reblog and comment if you enjoy. If you wish to be added to any of my tag lists, let me know.

Operation Greenacre. 

Amy looked back over the folder in front of her, memorising all the information inside. Her name while on this operation was Amanda Reynolds, an office assistant in central London at a family law firm. Recently engaged to boyfriend of two years, Ben Waverley, aka Lucas North, her current operation partner. 

Amy and Lucas had been given keys to a one-bedroom flat where they would act out their pretend lives, hoping to gather more inside information from their next door neighbours, a couple who were potentially funding terrorists through their charity. 

“Are you sure you’re okay to do this?” Lucas asked, hovering at her desk. “If you don’t feel comfortable then tell Harry and we can stand you down.”  

“I don’t want to let anyone down,” Amy sighed, giving him an anxious and embarrassed smile. Next to Jo Portman, Amy was the closest in age to Lucas, so could easily pass off as his fiancée. However, Jo was on another operation. 

Lucas pulled a chair across from the desk opposite and sat down next to Amy. “Look, you’ve never done this before, and it’s kind of going against procedure here and taking a risk. You don’t have to say yes just to please Harry or to impress anyone. Your safety and wellbeing comes first.” 

“But the only other person is Ros.” 

“So?” Lucas asked, raising his eyebrows. “Ros and I have had cover stories before where we’ve been in a relationship. We can easily make it work.” 

Amy looked at Lucas and felt the butterflies flap more viciously in her stomach. The man was gorgeous, and in Amy’s mind her being seen as his fiancée was even more inconceivable than Ros taking the place. Ros Myers had the confidence and grace that Amy didn’t. Amy was of short stature, more curvaceous, with short dark hair and what she considered more ‘plain’ features. While Amy had proven herself as a damn good analyst and office based intel officer, her confidence waned when venturing into new situations, or when in the company of Lucas. 

*

Near the end of Lucas’ shift, he tapped on Harry’s door. 

Harry Pearce, government renowned intelligence officer and senior lead of Section D, raised his head. “Yes, Lucas. Come in.” 

Lucas closed the door behind himself and sat down opposite the middle aged man. “I want to talk to you about Operation Greenacre. I don’t think Amy is ready, Harry. I’ve got a feeling that she’s accepted this to try and prove herself to you.” 

“Is this because you’re concerned about having to watch out for her, or a genuine interest in her safety?” 

“I can’t believe you’d ask me that question,” Lucas scoffed. “I’m worried for her, not me. She’s not ready for field work. Can we just ask Ros to do it?” 

“Lucas, Amy has already agreed to this and your documentation is being processed. I can’t stop this from going ahead, and Ros has, as of this afternoon, been put onto Op Hickory. I trust that you’ll be able to help her; the two of you seem to work well together and there’s something about the way she interacts with you. There’s an ease and a trust I sense.”

“I’m not questioning how we work together. I’ve always got on very well with her.” 

Harry saw a very faint blush hit Lucas’ cheeks, which was quite rare for him. Not much seemed to faze him, but this conversation appeared to be bringing out the very first signs that Lucas may have been holding a secret close to his heart. 

**

Amy woke early the next morning and rolled over to see that it was quarter to five. She had only gotten a couple of hours sleep, sporadic through the night. Her mind was ablaze with all the details of her new life she was about to live. 

Amanda Reynolds. Thirty one years of age. Born in Manchester. Older brother named Thomas. Fiancee of Ben Waverley. A gorgeous man like him wouldn’t ever be interested in someone like me….

The thoughts had trailed off many times, departing from the facts she had to memorise. All she could think about was how appearing engaged to Lucas would seem so far-fetched. She had even looked upon the engagement ring many times, wishing that it was all for real. What an absolutely stupid dream. This woman that she was pretending to be, Amanda Reynolds, had a better life than she had ever had. 

**

At around half seven, after showering, pacing her flat with podcasts playing in her ears, Amy heard her front door buzzer sound. It couldn’t have been the postman, as he normally left all mail in the boxes in the lobby. Deliveries weren’t usually this early. 

Amy clicked the intercom. “Hello?” 

“It’s Lucas.” 

Just his voice was like a wave of pleasurable electricity. It ran down her spine and made her smile. “I’ll let you in.” 

As Amy opened her door, she saw Lucas walking up the hallway. He was dressed in blue jeans and a black shirt, with the top two buttons opened. He held something in his hands. 

“I hope you haven’t had breakfast yet, Aim,” he said softly. 

“I thought we were meeting at nine, at the flat,” Amy said stupidly. 

“I just thought you might like to have a bit of food first and relax a bit.” 

Amy let Lucas into her flat, feeling the familiar flutter of nerves begin to descend. 

“Malcolm has organised the moving van this morning, so a lot of the stuff should be there when we arrive later,” Amy told Lucas, stepping into the kitchen, with him just behind. 

“Come and sit down for a bit and don’t think about the op. Relax and take your mind off it.”

Amy looked down at the brown paper bag on the counter and then back up at Lucas, feeling something in her chest, an ache that she had never quite felt before. Not only was he gorgeous, but kind. He actually saw her, and made her feel like she mattered. Or was this purely to try and help her feel more confident to better the outcome of the op? A method of getting the best out of her. 

“Did you manage to get that sketch completed?” Lucas asked, taking a large bite out of a croissant. 

“Oh, I didn’t think you’d remember that,” Amy said. Only a few days earlier and Amy had been sketching a photo of her nephew at her desk in work. It was a gift that she wanted to give to her sister for her birthday. 

**

By the time that Amy and Lucas had made it to the flat where they would be spending at least the next couple of weeks, Amy felt a little more at ease. The two of them greeted the moving men. 

Every now and again, Amy would catch a glimpse of a shimmer of rainbow colours from the corner of her eye, as the sun caught the diamond on her left hand. 

It all felt natural as Amy and Lucas began putting items away after unpacking boxes. However, it all changed, when a tall red-headed woman came to their open door. She tapped on it and stepped over the threshold and into the living room. “Hello?” 

“It’s okay,” Lucas whispered to Amy as they remained together in the bedroom, still opening boxes. “You’ll be fine. I’ll be with you in a minute.” Then he winked at her, watching as her startled face disappeared out of view. 

“Morning,” Amy said, her face beaming at the sight of the redhead. “I’m guessing you’re a neighbour?” 

“I am. I’m Pamela from next door, at number five. I heard we were getting new neighbours. It’s been so long since anyone has lived here, and I was starting to wonder if they’d ever find tenants.” 

Amy chuckled nervously. “I’m Amanda. My fiancée Ben is still in the bedroom trying to put the bed back together, so he should be out in a bit.”

On cue, just as Amy spoke those last words, Lucas appeared and approached. He curled his arm around Amy’s waist and drew her in against him. “Hi, I’m Ben. I hate moving. It makes me do some DIY which is one of my pet hates.” 

As Lucas spoke, Amy was sure that she could feel Lucas’ fingers moving in an almost circular motion against her waist. She could feel heat rising up her body at the sensation of being in such close proximity of him. 

“Is that a diamond I see?” Pamela asked, her dark eyes growing bright. 

Amy raised her hand to show her new neighbour. “We’ve been engaged about two months now.” 

Lucas pulled Amy that tad closer as she spoke, feeling a deep warmth rise upward and fill him. Without even thinking, he placed a kiss on her temple. Her skin was so soft under his lips and he could smell strawberries, no doubt from her shampoo. 

“You’ll have to come over for dinner tomorrow,” Pamela offered. “We always enjoy hosting dinners for our neighbours. Ted is ever the showman.” 

“That sounds lovely,” Amy said, her voice ever so slightly teetering on the edge of nervousness. She could feel the change in her voice now that Lucas was touching her. 

“I’ll let you both get back to it. I’ll see you around no doubt.” 

As Pamela disappeared into her front door, Amy immediately pulled from Lucas. She turned away from him and dashed away into the kitchen, where she flicked on the kettle for a drink. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she could feel her legs shaking. For a few seconds, she watched out of the window, focusing on the clouds and took a deep breath. 

“Are you okay?” Lucas asked. “You did well, Aim.” 

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just a little flustered, that’s all.” 

**

The rest of the day was fairly lowkey, with Amy and Lucas putting the belongings away, which hopefully wouldn’t be needed for too long. At the briefing, Harry and Lucas had explained that they hoped that the undercover part of the op wouldn’t be any more than two or three weeks. Most of it hinged on Lucas being able to wind his way into Ted Delaney’s trust and gain any hints as to his reasoning and motives for working alongside terrorists. 

At around six there was a sharp knock at the door. 

Lucas opened the door, only to see Ted Delaney in front of him. Positive ID made from all the documentation that had been gathered prior to the undercover portion of the op going live. 

“I’m Ted from next door. Pam told me you’d moved in and that she’d invited you to dinner tomorrow. Thought I’d come over and extend my welcomes to you both.” 

Ted Delany was a man who was easily in his mid-fifties. His greying hair was swept back and oiled, and his grey eyes were piercing. His clothing showed that he had money and position: a well-tailored navy suit and shined shoes. 

“Would you like a drink with us?” Lucas asked. 

“Sure,” Ted said, flashing a broad smile. 

Lucas immediately approached the whiskey and vodka bottles that were neatly placed out on a small table next to a large bookcase. 

Amy could hear faint chatter as she remained in the bedroom. For a second, she stood with her back to the wall, took a deep breath and then exited. 

“Hey, babe,” Lucas said, seeing Amy. ‘Babe’ somehow felt wrong in his mouth, and he hoped that to Delaney the word didn’t come across too alien. “This is Ted from next door.” 

“Ted, this is Amanda. The love of my life and wife-to-be.” 

I think that may be a bit too much, Lucas. Amy mused. 

Amy sat down on the black leather sofa which was opposite a matching armchair, where Ted had perched himself. 

Lucas handed the glass of whiskey to Ted and then placed himself down next to Amy. His hand rested on her thigh, again doing that circular motion with his fingers. He looked at Amy, passing her a glance. “Do you want me to get you anything from the kitchen?” 

“You’re missing out on the good stuff, love,” Ted said with a hearty chuckle and raised his glass in the air. 

“No, I’m fine, thank you,” Amy replied. “I’ve never been able to hand alcohol particularly well. It just doesn’t sit well with me.” 

“I remember when we first met, and she tried to impress me by drinking a couple of pints,” Lucas said. “She’s always tried to impress me when there’s no need to. She’s perfect the way she is.” Lucas, on instinct, squeezed her leg. 

Amy felt a rod of red hot head swarm in her head, as if angry wasps were buzzing there. “I always felt I was out of your league, Ben, you know that.” 

“Pam was always like that with me, too. Some women might seem like they have confidence, but deep down they don’t, and feel they need to be something they’re not. In fact, they’ve always been the apple of your eye from the very beginning.” 

Lucas chuckled. “That’s definitely always been the way with her. She doesn’t see how amazing she is.” 

**

Ted only stayed for approximately twenty minutes, before leaving Amy and Lucas for the night. There was a silence that had grown between them both now, and as Lucas remained in the living room, Amy sat in the kitchen with a mug of tea between her arms, which were resting on the table. 

“Aim, what’s wrong?” Lucas asked, finally following her into the kitchen. “You’ve been quiet since Delaney left. Is it making you uncomfortable?” 

Lucas looked down at the table to see the engagement ring. It was in the centre of the table, not on Amy’s hand where it should have been for the op. 

“I can’t wear it, Lucas,” Amy said softly. “Not when it’s not real. I can’t close the door and still have it on my hand. It’s bad enough having to have you touch me.” 

“Amy…” 

“It doesn’t matter what I think. We see this op through and then go back to the grid and get on with things.” 

**

Lucas lay on the sofa, while Amy had the bed, and thought on her words. It’s bad enough having you touch me. Was she disgusted by him? That very thought made his jaw clench and an ache rise in his chest. That was why she had dashed from him when Pamela had been at their door; Amy found him disgusting and couldn’t stand him touching her. And that touch had been real, so real in Lucas’ mind. To hold Amy next to him had felt like everything was perfect, and nothing was an act. The kiss on her temple...that was all from Lucas’ heart. 

Amy tossed in bed, replaying the events. The way Lucas had touched her, and those words. They seemed to be somehow as though he was telling her, behind a mask of someone else, that…. Of course he wasn’t! 

Lucas is good at his job. He’s done this so many times before and played the part well to get what’s needed for the case and then move on. Nothing is different about this operation whatsoever. It’s just my imagination. 

Being in a different bed meant that Amy couldn’t quite get comfortable in the bed, and would keep peering out of one eye at the clock on the bedside table. The bed was big, enough space for her to roll around, but it reminded her of how isolated she felt. Cut off. Unwanted. 

It was just after four ‘o’ clock and Amy knew she wouldn’t sleep any more that night. It was like the night before, just a couple of hours made up of half hour dozing phases. A dull thump was already starting up behind her eyes. As Amy pulled herself out of bed, she heard the whishing of blood in her ears. 

She staggered out of the room and across the living room, heading for the kitchen. There, on the sofa, sprawled out was Lucas. He was on his back, mouth wide open. The patchwork quilt had fallen off him, so Amy tottered over to him, and placed the quilt back over his sleeping form. He twitched as the quilt touched him, let out a loud snore, and then rolled over. 

Amy made a cup of herbal tea and sat in the kitchen, her eyes stinging and head thumping. It seemed as if Lucas slept easily, not worrying about the operation and certainly not about the tension that had risen between them. Was it only Amy that sensed any kind of tension? She was starting to assume it was. 

By the time it had turned half six, Amy got dressed into a fresh strip of clothing, choosing jeans and a frilled white blouse: the attire of Amanda Reynolds. Amy Holland, MI5 analyst, would have opted for jeans and a rock band T-shirt with a waistcoat, or a bright coloured hoodie. Sophistication wasn’t something that Amy felt she had. 

The streets were fairly quiet and Amy slipped into a café, ordering two bagels and two Americano coffees. Then she walked back to the flat, feeling that she could finally find a sense of peace out in the chilled mid-March air. 

By the time Amy got back to the flat, she walked in to find that Lucas had vacated the sofa. She could hear the splashing of bathwater and an offkey singing voice coming from the bathroom. 

Amy giggled and placed the breakfasts down on the coffee table in the living room, waiting for Lucas to re-appear. 

When he finally made an appearance, Lucas sauntered over to the sofa and sat down, leaving a gap between Amy and himself. 

“I hope you like bagels,” Amy said, giving a smile. “You brought breakfast yesterday so it’s only fair I do so today.” 

***

Amy ventured out the flat after breakfast, deciding to get out of Lucas’ way for a few hours. The cover story was that Amanda and Ben were on annual leave for a week while they moved into their new property. Ben, being the owner of his own accountancy firm, had left the company in the capable hands of his best friend, and co-director, Patrick Lange. If any kind of phone call was needed to or from Patrick, Tariq had been asked to step in and lend his vocal skills. 

First off, Amy sat down in a coffee shop and watched people wander past the window; tourists, residents. Some of them she could tell immediately as residents of London, carrying briefcases or dressed sharp for an upcoming meetings. Tourists tended to walk slower, some with cameras around their necks, and gazed around in excitement and wonder. 

Her phone chimed. Well, Amanda’s phone. It was one of the many iPhones that were kept on the Grid specifically for operations, with disposable SIM cards. 

Ben: Are you sure you’re okay? You didn’t seem yourself this morning. Love you. Xxx

Of course all text messages had be sent in character, in case the devices were ever compromised. No personal devices were allowed. One very basic Nokia 3310 model was kept in order to report back to Harry in case any challenges occurred, and that was in Lucas’ possession. 

Amanda: Yes, I’m fine, sweetie. I’ll be back later.  xx

Sweetie. Acting out this whole made-up scenario was angering Amy. 

Amy continued on walking, disappearing in and out of shops. All of the money she had was in physical cash. No personal credit and debit cards were to be used while on operation. Every aspect of who she really was had been erased. For the next two or three weeks, Amy Holland didn’t exist. When she looked into a mirror, Amanda Reynolds looked back. Amy could imagine the reflection smirking at her, the diamond sparkling so brightly on her left hand, with Ben’s arm wrapped around her. Ben’s steel blue eyes looking back, his nose wrinkled in disgust at the mere sight of Amy. 

Like I’d ever look at you twice.

Back at the flat, Lucas put more items away, concentrating on the kitchenware. However, his mind couldn’t stop spiralling into thoughts of Amy. She was confusing him and it was twisting his gut so tight. Suddenly he got up from the tiled floor, where he had been putting pots and pans into the cupboards, and called her. 

“Amanda?” he asked. 

“Ben,” she replied matter-of-factly. 

“Are you alone?” he asked. 

“No one is directly around me.”

“We need to talk on neutral ground.” 

“Please, no. We can talk when I get back.”

“We have to be careful as we can be compromised, you know that.” 

“I’m on my way back now. We’ll talk more after the dinner. I’ll be back in about half hour.” 

The line then went quiet as Amy terminated the call. 

Lucas sighed in frustration. In all the months that he had known Amy, which was almost a year, he had never known her be so aloof. She was naturally a shier person, but he had never known her react like this. 

Amy got back to the flat within the half hour that she had promised. She stepped into the living room to see Lucas sat on the sofa. The gorgeous bastard looked up at her and smiled sadly. 

“After the dinner, we’ll go for a walk,” she proposed. 

***

Amy and Lucas prepared themselves for the dinner with their new neighbours at around six. 

Lucas was dressed in a black suit jacket and white shirt, with the top two buttons popped open. It was complimented nicely with a pair of dark jeans, giving a casual edge. 

Amy stepped out of the bedroom, her short pixie cut freshly washed and neatly brushed. She wore a black dress with frills on the wrist, and paired with black dolly shoes. Her whole look was sophistication mixed with a sense of comfort. 

As Lucas looked at her, he swallowed hard. She was wearing a dark eyeshadow and mascara which accented her deep green eyes perfectly. He could sense her discomfort at the get-up, knowing that this wasn’t her usual style, but he couldn’t help feel it suited her so well. 

Amy tried to avoid eye contact and made her way to the door in silence. 

Lucas followed on behind, feeling his stomach twist yet again at her distance from him. He grabbed a bottle of wine from the table by the door, and then closed it behind them. 

Pam was the one to answer the door. She grinned at her new neighbours and let them in. “Take a seat. Dinner won’t be too long now. I’m preparing smoked salmon, topped in my special sauce. Chef’s secret as to the recipe. Everyone who has ever tried it has raved over it.” 

“Good man!” Ted exclaimed, taking the bottle of red wine from Lucas. “Priorities.” 

Amy glanced around the living room, noticing that there was far less in it than hers and Lucas’ temporary abode. The flooring was wooden, and the lights bright. Everything felt too clean and sterile for Amy’s liking. She sat down on a black leather sofa, and then tensed as Lucas perched beside her. He took her hand and rested it on his knee, then caught her gaze and smiled, giving her a very slight nod. 

“So, how did you two meet?” Pam asked, preparing glasses as Ted popped open the wine bottle. 

“Do you want a coffee? You said last night you don’t drink,” Ted asked Amy, interjecting himself into the conversation before anyone else could speak. 

“Oh, yes, please. That would be perfect,” she replied with a grateful smile. 

Lucas began to talk, still holding Amy’s hand. He rolled out the spiel that he and Amy had been given as part of their briefing pack. Amanda and Ben had met through mutual friends at a Christmas party. 

The words rolled effortlessly off Lucas’ tongue, Amy mused. And how she wished all of it was true. To be loved, wanted, proposed to, lived with. She desperately wanted it all. Life was cruel. Rather than be dealt such a lucky hand, she instead had to act it all out, pretend, and live behind a happy mask, where her heart beneath was breaking. 

“You definitely struck lucky, love,” Pam told Amy with a wink. 

The conversation between Lucas and Ted seemed to flow without much thought. However, Lucas’ hand moving up Amy’s thigh, curling further into the inside of her leg. 

Shivers began to race up Amy’s spine as she felt his fingers caress her skin through her thin tights. 

Most of the conversation seemed to merge into a mindless chatter as Amy concentrated on Lucas’ hand on her leg. She studied the veins in the back of his hand, which then caused images of him touching her in more intimate places to flicker through her mind. 

By the time that dinner was ready and the group had moved into the dining room, which again was a sterile looking room, Lucas had finally got onto the topic of conversation that he needed: Ted’s work. 

The table was only small, considering that the flat was large. It gave way for more kitchen space and cabinets. This meant that Amy was sat directly next to Lucas again, with Pam and Ted opposite them. 

“How long have you owned the charity, Ted?” Lucas asked, slipping into his seat. 

Ted began to answer while Pam laid out all the dishes in the centre of the table, her hands covered in oven gloves. “The charity was actually started by my father, who died five years ago, so it was handed down to me. He always spent his life helping disadvantaged children; it was all he cared about.” Something flickered across Ted’s face. Resentment, anger? Lucas couldn’t quite tell. But maybe that was where he could probe further. 

“Are you alright, love?” Pam asked, sitting down directly opposite Amy. “You look a bit pale.” 

“It’s probably the new foundation I’m using. I decided to try a lighter colour as the one before, by Clinique was too dark.” Where had that response come from? Maybe Amy wasn’t quite as bad at this acting while undercover thing as she had originally thought. Suddenly she felt something on her leg and jumped. Thankfully, Pam had started talking to Lucas and Ted again, so none of them noticed her jump. Why was Lucas touching her leg? Their lower halves were concealed beneath the table, which meant he didn’t have to touch her in order for anyone to believe they were lovers. 

While Amy eat her meal, she couldn’t stop thinking about Lucas’ hand coming back to her leg. 

“So, how did you choose to propose?” Pam asked, grinning. “I always adore love stories.”

Lucas blushed and then looked at Amy, catching her gaze. Then, he touched her leg again. Only this time, Amy didn’t flinch. In fact, upon instinct, she leaned her leg into his touch. “I just knew that I couldn’t live without her in my life. I wanted to wake up next to her, have kids with her. Cliché, I know. So I took her away for Christmas, to New York where she’d always wanted to go, and proposed in front of the Statue of Liberty.” His eyes were still locked on hers as he spoke. 

A sudden wave of nausea hit Amy and she leaned to the side, away from Lucas. 

“Are you okay, babe?” Lucas asked. “She’s been like this on and off the last couple of days.” 

Pam’s bright blue eyes lit up in excitement. “Maybe it’s the pitter patter of tiny feet.” 

“I’m going to have to head back to the flat. I’m so sorry to both of you,” Amy said, bolting up from her seat. 

Lucas got up beside her and wound his arm around her waist. “Sorry to leave so abruptly, but she comes first.” 

“Of course,” Ted chuckled. “We’ll have to re-schedule for a better time.” 

Amy and Lucas bid their farewells to their guests and head back to the flat. Amy dashed inside and raced to the bathroom, slamming the door. Rather than vomiting, she got to her knees on the floor and felt the tears of sadness roll down her cheeks. 

The door opened and Lucas stepped inside. He looked down as she sobbed and fell to his knees beside her. “Aim, what’s wrong?” he whispered. “You’re scaring me.” 

“You don’t have to keep the act going, Lucas,” she snapped, glaring at him. “Pam and Ted aren’t here.” 

“Get dressed into something more comfortable and warmer. We’ll go for a walk,” Lucas said, his voice becoming authoritative. 

“I don’t want…”

“While we’re on this operation, I’m the senior officer. Please get changed and we’ll go for a walk.” Lucas felt a stab of shame as he spoke those words, knowing he was using his own position for gain, but he needed to know what was happening. Her behaviour was becoming more erratic. Not only was she worrying him for her wellbeing, but if she continued to act like this then the op would be compromised. 

Fuck the operation! I care more about her. 

Fifteen minutes later and Amy walked beside Lucas, the darkness and cold evening air wrapping tight around them. Once they were a few streets away from the flat, Amy and Lucas sat down on a bench in a small park. 

“You really are scaring me, Amy. What’s wrong?” he asked quietly. “This is me asking because I care for your wellbeing. It’s not an act.” The word ‘act’ dripped with anger. He noticed that, yet again, she’d taken the engagement ring off. 

Amy noticed him look at her hand. “I can’t wear that ring, Lucas. Please don’t make me wear it when I don’t have to.” 

“We’re on surveillance and undercover twenty-four seven with this operation. You shouldn’t take it on and off when you please like this. This goes deeper than that, Aim. I know you hate me touching you, and I’m sorry I have to do it.” 

“I know it’s all an act for the op, Lucas. Don’t apologise.” 

“Is it all an act?” he asked. His gaze locked on Amy’s. “I know I shouldn’t have touched you under the table. There was no need for that. The truth is, none of this has been an act for me.” 

Amy’s eyes were wide in shock and sadness as she stared at him. “It’s not just my imagination?” she whispered. 

“No,” Lucas replied with a smile. “And when you said about not wanting me to touch you…”

“I didn’t mean that I didn’t want you to touch me. It’s I…I’ve liked you for a while Lucas, and it was getting too much. Playing it all like a game when deep down it’s something I want. I’m living another woman’s life that I want.” 

Lucas slipped closer to Amy and cupped her cheek with his hand. “Is it me or Ben Waverley that you want?” 

“Of course it’s you I want.” Amy replied, her face broad with a huge smile. 

Lucas moved even closer to her still, until their lips touched. The kiss started as a simple peck, a moment of uncertainty, but Amy’s hand tugging Lucas’ jacket spurred him on. The kiss grew deeper, their tongues meeting and warmth rising. 

As they both parted, Lucas smiled upon the slight of Amy’s beautiful flushed cheeks. She looked so innocent and angelic in those moments; her eyes sparkling in happiness, her cheeks flushed and her lips plump. 

“Does this mean that if you want Amanda’s life that you’re planning on leaving MI5?” Lucas chuckled. “Pack up and go work as a solicitor’s secretary. We’d miss you.” 

“Maybe I don’t want that part of her life.”  

“If we do this, Aim, and have a relationship, we won’t be put together undercover again, you know that, don’t you?” Lucas asked. “Harry can’t risk any compromise. We’d be a weakness to each other.” 

“Maybe on this op we can draw strength from each other. It’ll definitely make the act easier to keep up.” 

Lucas and Amy walked back to the flat hand in hand. The whole time and Amy was beaming, unable to hide the happiness she was feeling in those moments. Her gaze would drift down to their joined hands every few minutes. 

Back at the flat, Lucas let Amy in ahead of himself, his hand brushing against her lower back. He followed on behind her and closed the door. The way she turned to face him and looked up smiling, her cheeks still flushed, made his heart skip and his stomach flutter. She was so beautiful, with innocence shining brightly in her eyes and love curling her lips upwards. 

Lucas stepped forward and wound his arm around her waist, drawing her in and then leaned down to kiss her again. 

Their kiss grew hot very quickly, with their bodies entwining. 

Amy opened her eyes slowly, looking up into the silver blue depths of Lucas’ gaze. That all too familiar smirk began to form in the corner of his mouth. 

Amy slipped out of his hold and walked slowly into the kitchen, looking down at the table. The engagement ring was still in the centre where she had left it. 

Lucas moved around her and picked up the ring. Then he gently lifted her left hand. “I know you don’t want to wear it, Aim, but please do this for me.” 

With a sigh, Amy watched as Lucas slid the diamond solitaire ring onto her hand. It felt as though the ring had been sized perfectly and belonged there. “Maybe one day I’ll have someone doing it for real.” 

Lucas smiled sadly, feeling a lump form in his throat. Words swarmed in Lucas’ mind. Just one sentence to respond to Amy’s sad comment. But the right one would not come. Instead, he remained quiet. Perhaps one day it might have been him putting a ring on her hand, and meaning it. However, for now, he would have to wait and see, and hope for that future to come. 

***

Follow Forever tag list: @lathalea @xxbyimm @middleearthpixie @linasofia @knittastically @asgardianhobbit98 @rachel1959 @luna-xial @mrsdurin @quiall321 @missihart23 @lemond57 @evenstaredits @catthefearless @the-fragile-heart-of-a-lady @glassgulls @sazzlep @aliasauthor @solairewisteria @little-bird-99 @court-jobi @heilith @absentmindeduniverse @albionscastle @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @bookworm-with-coffee @danzalladaggers @ourlonelymountain @phantomessangel @estethell @windb3ll

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[bitbybitwrites]

WIP ASK ME GAME

I was tagged by @wordsofhoneydew and @itsmaybitheway. Thank you so much for thinking of me! Sorry for the delay - it took me longer than usual to think of descriptions of all the WIP I've got in the works 😂

So here are some Klaine and RWRB fics I'm working on that anyone can feel free to ask me about if you'd like:)

A long WIP list can be found under the break!

Partially published WIP:

(Klaine) If I Can Make Your Heart My Home - (Klaine Reverse Bang 2023) Life in New York City and working in the restaurant industry wasn’t exactly what Kurt Hummel had expected it would be. He’s lonely, stressed out and miserable. He’s almost ready to throw in the towel and return home to Ohio when a chance meeting with a musician in Central Park changes everything. (Warning: an angsty rollercoaster of a ride. Soooo many cameos from Glee characters! 😉)

(Klaine) Falling For You -(Klaine Secret Santa 2023 - NOW COMPLETE AS OF 4/16/24) - Successful doctor, Blaine Anderson has his hands full heading up the pediatric wing of Sloan Kettering Memorial Hospital in NY City. Life with that job and his precocious 6 year old daughter certainly keeps him on his toes - so much so that he thinks he can avoid dealing with the hole left in his life from the death of his husband. Little does he know that falling in love is on the horizon, quite literally, when he meets a florist by the name of Kurt Hummel. (Kid!fic with a bit of angst but a happy ending)

(RWRB) Puppy Love - (RWRB NYE gift exchange 2023) The cold snowy day that Henry Fox discovers an abandoned beagle puppy in an alley brings handsome, flirty veterinarian, Alex Claremont-Diaz into his life. Alex is a single dad, recently moved to NY with his young son who Henry hasn't met yet - or so Alex thought. (Fluffy kid!fic)

(Klaine) Sanctuary - (Klaine Word Scramble 2023) Crown Prince Blaine has stumbled into a secluded glade, trying to escape the horrors of the bloody war his father had brought upon their kingdom. Mourning his beloved older brother and faced with the burden of taking his place in the kingdom, Blaine yearns for a place to hid from the world to deal with the issues weighing on his heavy heart. He encounters a mysterious elf, the guardian of the magical spring that Blaine has mistakenly defiled, whose growing connection to his life the young prince can't ignore. (Inspired by an idea/ artwork by @datshitrandom and @justgleekout)

Not published yet WIP :

(these are in various states of readiness: some outlined, some partially written, some still in the brainstorming/research phase)

(RWRB) I approach, and I withdraw (tentative title) - Historical fic - Alejandro Diaz was still a boy when he followed his father into the thick of the fight for Mexico's independence. A series of unfortunate events, however, led him and his family to flee his home and to adopt new identities for their own safety. Years later, after he finds himself well ensconced in his new life as an attaché to the office of the new American ambassador to England, Alexander Claremont soon finds his past catching up to him. (Inspired by these historical paintings by @stormtrooperjeff17004 as well as artwork from @artofobsession seen here and here.)

(RWRB) Shaken, Not Stirred (Spy!AU) - CIA Officer Alex Claremont Diaz is not new to working on joint operations with other foreign agencies. He does it often and he does it well, which is why his superior, Zahra Bankston, never hesitates to assign them to him. What he wasn't expecting that morning was to be put on a new assignment with his least favorite MI6 operative, Henry Fox - and that they had to use being a newly married couple as their cover to get the job done. (Inspired by this drawing by @noodles-and-tea )

(Klaine) Cuffed (a D/s and soulmate story and prequel to my first ever fic, Trick or Treat) - - Musician Blaine Anderson has always been lonely sub, yearning for a place to belong and someone to belong to. Kurt Hummel is the an overworked and high in demand designer - a Dom with no time to sit and relax and focus on what his needs are. When an old friend hires Kurt to revamp his new club, Kurt's life becomes intertwined with Blaine's in a way neither of them could ignore.

(Klaine) Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weenie (Day 2 /Bikini - Klaine Advent 2023/ PWP) - A casual little fashion critique while the boys are on a well needed vacation, leads to a little outdoor fun. (Set in my Trick or Treat AU)

(RWRB) how ardently i admire and love you (online auction!AU) - Alex is desperate to find the perfect birthday gift for Henry, and eventually finds himself in an online bidding war for the one unique item that he knows his boyfriend would just adore.

(Klaine) I Know You Wanna Take Me Home (tentative title) (Klaine Valentines Challenge 2024/Pretty Woman!AU) Well established business man, Kurt Hummel never thought he could find anyone of substance among the escorts at Dalton House. But after being convinced to visit the upscale club by his friend, Kurt's mind is quickly changed once he sets his eyes on a beautiful boy in a gilded cage who was up for auction that night.

(Klaine) Untitled Klaine fic (Klaine Advent 2022) - Set in my Klaine superhero AU - Under The Cover of Darkness) Blaine decides to go home with Kurt for the holidays and doesn't make the best first impression with Kurt's parents.

(Klaine) Untitled Klaine fic (Feudal Japan!AU) - based off of novel The Tokaido Road - On a personal mission to avenge the murder of his father, Kurt travels the Tokaido , braving its dangers and interesting characters on the way. As the son of a nobleman, Kurt travels in disguise, unaware that the person who sanctioned his father's murderer has also sent Blaine, a talented and deadly ronin, to find and kill Kurt as well.

(RWRB)- the phantom touch of your hand (tentative title) - (Fantasy/cursed tattoo fic!AU) Two young swordsmen are determined to vanquish a sorcerer who has laid a tragic curse on them both. The problem is, the curse keeps them from being together at the same time, doomed to travel alone, one by day, the other by night - the only reminder of the other being the cursed tattoo burned into their skin.

(Klaine) - Untitled Klaine fic (While You were Sleeping!AU) - Kurt Hummel always wanted to live in NYC - his dreams were to be on Broadway. Being on the Broadway stage that is. Not working on the corner of Broadway and 44th in one of those coffee/food carts parked out on the street. Things for him change the day that Cooper Anderson, Kurt's gorgeous repeat customer whom he secretly fantasizes about, nearly gets hit by a bus. After following him to the hospital, Kurt gets mistaken for being his crush's fiancee which should have been his dream come true - until he meets Cooper's sweet down to earth brother, Blaine.

(Sebklaine) Let you put your hands on me (PWP College threesome) - heavily influenced by "one of those movies" - wink, wink . . - Kurt's frustrated ( in more ways than one) and his good friends Blaine and Sebastian find a way to help him out.

(Klaine/RWRB) - Untitled fic (Scheherazade/ 1001 Arabian Nights !AU) - A lone traveler gets captured by a band of sex slavers in the desert. After being subjected to the horrors of slavery, the young man gets rescued by a desert prince in disguise, chosen to be his sole consort. Every evening, the consort tells his prince a story for him amusement. - planning a series of probably shorts all in the same style. Maybe it'll be a collection to do with other writers? Not sure yet. Might alternate with either Henry/Alex being the Prince and Consort and Blaine/Kurt being the characters in the bedtime tales or vice versa. Or maybe create 2 OC to be the Prince/Consort and have the other four boys be the characters in the shorter stories. I'm assuming it would be alot of mature/explicit shorts - but wouldn't mind a mix of other ratings in between as well.

Tagging ( only if they want to play): @myheartalivewrites, @clottedcreamfudge, @hkvoyage, @kirakiwiwrites, @gleefulpoppet,

@gleefuldarrencrissfan, @onthewaytosomewhere, @sarkyblueeyes, @madas-ahatters-world @rougedraconteur,

@yadivagirl @lilinas, @forabeatofadrum, @kiwiana-writes, @spaceorphan18,

@special-bc-ur-part-of-it, @fallevs @daisyishedwig @annepi-blog @wowbright

@backslashdelta @kurtsascot @coffeegleek @14carrotghoul @rockitmans

@teilo @iboatedhere, @orchidscript @welcometololaland

. . oh hell and anyone else who sees this and wants to share their WIP - go for it!

[e-nonsense]

Hello! May I please request Dick Grayson with the Angsty prompts 5,8 and 9? I love your writing, and thank you:)

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫, 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐠𝐨 𝐨𝐧... (𝟏/𝟑)

⇢ ᴅɪᴄᴋ ɢʀᴀʏꜱᴏɴ x ɢɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ʙɪᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴡᴀʟʟʏ ᴡᴇꜱᴛ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ {ᴀɴʏ!ᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ}

⇢ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛꜱ » #5 “ʙᴀʙᴇ ɪᴛ’ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪᴛ ʟᴏᴏᴋꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ” “ʏᴇᴀʜ? ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪꜱ ɪᴛ?” || #8 “ʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴀɴʏ ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ᴅᴏ ᴡᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴜʀᴛ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱɪɴɢ ᴡᴇ’ʀᴇ ɴᴏ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ” || #9 “ꜱᴏ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ’ꜱ ɪᴛ?” “ʏᴇᴀʜ ɪᴛ ɪꜱ, ᴛʜɪꜱ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ ɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ ꜱɪᴅᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ’ᴍ ᴛɪʀᴇᴅ, ᴏᴋᴀʏ?”

⇢ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ʀᴇզᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴏɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴀᴄᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟɪᴍᴇɴᴛ, ɪ ᴅɪꜱʟɪᴋᴇ ʙᴀʀʙᴀʀᴀ ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ

⇢ ᴄʜᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ, ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴛꜱ, ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ

Gasps, moans, the squeaks of the mattress filled your apartment in your bedroom.

You knew this was coming, but you wished you meant more to him. people warned you about Dick Grayson, Jason Todd warned you about him, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, and oh how the list could go on.

You never listened, you couldn't resist. When he showed up at your door, soaking wet you let him. You thought you could domesticate a man who didn't want to be domesticated.

Honestly you weren't sure whether you should announce your presence or leave. Your fight or flight response kicked in finally and you marched into the bedroom, the second the door slammed open the excuses went flying out.

Dick's head whipped around, he pulled out the stupidest excuse in the book. “Babe it’s not what it looks like”

“Yeah? then what is it?”

"I just uh- fuck" he was stumbling over his word, he pulled the cover over Barbara fucking Gordon. Why the hell was she here, biggest whore in the galaxy, sleeping in your bed making love with your boyfriend? hell no, she knew about the realtionship. she was bothered by it, yeah, but you talked to Dick about it and he said he didn't matter.

Obviously it did if he was fucking her and enjoying it.

"I'm sorry" Dick made his way over to you after pulling his boxers up, "I just-"

“How many times do we have to hurt each other before realising we’re no good at this”

"Y/n, please just hear me out-" he didn't deserve another second of your time, he never did. He didn't deserve to breathe the same air as you, he doesn't deserve you.

"no, not anymore, never again" you walked out of the room, you couldn't do it, not with her in there.

Dick followed you out “So what that’s it?”

“Yeah it is, this relationship is one sided and I’m tired okay”

You heard her call for him, "go on, your whore is waiting for you bitch"

So you left, you walked straight out of the very door you had just walked in through, got in your car and drove away. You weren't sure where to go, not get at least so you just drove, straight out of Blüdhaven- and even though it sound stupid, you went were the road took you.

You ended up in Central City, eating ice cream with your boyfriend’s- sorry ex-boyfriend’s best friend and his mentor. Wally West and Barry Allen, the red haired boy knew exactly what his dearest friend was capable of. He didn’t want you to date Dick, he was the reason you met the man anyways.

You had once worked with team Flash, your little sister got superhuman abilities and she wanted to learn to control it in an attempt to never harm anyone, but your parents didn’t care. So you took it upon yourself to make sure she got the help she needed. And Barry took upon himself to keep you safe when she died. Both of these men were always there for you, so of course your natural instinct was to run back to them. Oh how Wally was furious. Barry seemed mostly concerned that you weren’t reacting. Wally knew it was a defensive mechanism you had, he nudged your shoulder with his. Barry wanted to melt in his spot when you placed your head on the red head's shoulder, not only from the cuteness, but from the stupidity the both of you shared. How could neither of you see it? That you were made for each other. That you belonged together. Barry let out a sigh, “I need to head back, you both alright?” A yes from Wally and a hum of confirmation from you, Barry was off, Running away in a Flash. “I need to get my stuff, from there” Wally stood up with you “I’ll come with” “But-” you couldn’t say much more, because he had already swept you off your feet.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2 ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴꜱ ɴᴇxᴛ

© ʜᴇʟʟꜱ-ᴇꜱᴄᴀᴘᴇᴇꜱ. ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ/ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ/ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ

[angel-of-hunky-doryness]

The Conflicts of Disney's Hercules (Part 3): Hades vs Zeus

Brother vs brother- talk about a tale as old as time, huh? From Cain and Abel to Hamlet and Claudius to the more modern examples of Mufasa and Scar to Thor and Loki, what's not to hate about about two brothers at odds with one another? Well technically its more of an angsty, brooding guy who's had it up to here with their perfect golden retriever brother getting the throne, daddy's attention, and/or the girl. While our bootiful no-thoughts head empty golden child becomes intimately aware at the last possible second of their brother's treachery as they're falling into your proverbial wildebeest stampede.

That's right y'all.

May I present to the surprise of no one.

THEM:

Finally we come to the conflict that sent the proverbial Sisyphean boulder into motion that is Disney's Hercules.

Part I: And now a word from our IV pound sponsor:

Before I begin my analysis on the relationship between Disney's Hades and Zeus, I thought I would provide a bit of background to the established canon Disney presents us. Mind you, dear reader, we have the 1997 film and the Hercules animated TV show (1998) to look towards. However, there are minor conflicting information between the two, but as always, the movie is always more canon than what the TV show gave us.

Zeus is older, Hades is younger. Weird I know.

But I'm gonna go out on a limb here and support Disney on this one. Because while in the grand scheme of things Hades is most definitely NOT the youngest child of the siblings in Greek Myth, there is a small technicality that cements Zeus' authority to rule over his older siblings as if Zeus was the firstborn child this whole time.

That technicality being: Kronos

Kronos gets the big bag prophecy/curse from Gaia that one of his children will overthrow him like he did with his dad, so Kronos starts baking his cake and eating it too.

Hades was the first male born (hestia is traditionally firstborn but patriarchy or whatevs) so that also made him the first to be swallowed by Kronos. Thus, when Zeus freed the rest of his siblings, Hades was the last son to be up-chucked since he was ingested first - that made Hades the last "born."

And this "second birth" of Poseidon, Hera, Demeter, Hades, and Hestia is what cements the order of authority in the 6 siblings hierarchy. Therefore, Zeus was made firstborn and had full authority to claim the sky if he so desired.

But Zeus was a chad in those days and still gave his brothers a chance to draw lots and all that b/c even he saw how unfair the Fates had been to his brothers. Yet still, destiny favored Zeus and Mr. High and Mighty got the kingdom with a view.

Which is a perfect segway to the next set of rules I'm working with here:

2. Zeus is a good guy.

Okay, I know it hurts to accept this, buttercups, but we have to muscle through it. The version of Zeus that we got in Disney's Hercules is a sanitized, lovable goofball who loves his son, his wife (is that allowed?), and his brother who's going through a phase.

BTW I would like to draw attention to the fact this is the first time in an adaptation of greek myth where Hera is Hercules' bio mother. This is clearly outlining to the audience- hey! Zeus is faithful?

So Zeusy's worst flaw (infidelity, Don Juan, insatiable sexual appetite- pick your poison) has been erased. That's wild, but we have to accept this to better understand the context of Hades vs Zeus. We have to establish who has morality in this equation. Earlier parts of my Hercules Conflicts series had obvious good guys vs Hades, but for this one I have to build it up because of the history of these mythological figures.

However, before I roll into it, I would like to dig on Mr. Thunder Dunder Head once.

This man violated the Geneva Conventions doing this to Danny DeVito:

Talk about some Zeus ex machina- yeesh.

Part II: And Then Along Came Zeus

With the introduction out of the way, now we can talk about the central conflict that kickstarted this movie into gear.

From the get-go, Hades establishes that he doesn't reciprocate his brother's affection. What should've been a good ol' fashioned family reunion turned into a neon flashing sign that Hades is very uncomfy around his brother. Hell, even when Zeus is trying to be friendly he ends up ordering him around.

And I don't think anyone's mentioned this before, but doesn't it seem like Zeus is just as touchy-feely here as Hades is with those beneath them? It makes me wonder if Hades learned this behavior from Zeus.

Now, we also get the idea that Zeus is clueless. Not just to how Hades is purposefully keeping him at arm's length, but also to how the other party guests, the gods, get very quiet and passive aggressive the second Hades showed up to spoil the party.

And you better believe this three-minute scene is the basis for this entire post. And there is a lot to digest here.

First off, we get Hades' motivation, his goals, and the receipts. You better believe this babe is writing in his little black burn book as soon as he gets back in his chariot.

From Zeus, to Hercules, to the rest of the gods, home boy has a lot to update after popping in after a long time. And I hate to be that guy, but a show of hands on who felt more sympathetic for Hades here?

Like I've mentioned in Disney's Most Sympathetic villain post already, but Hades' villain entrance is not intimidating in the slightest. If anything, it quickly establishes that Hades is kind of a loser in these circles.

To recap, while on Mt Olympus for two minutes Hades is:

Manhandled by his older brother

Manhandled by his nephew (ok i get this one, he nearly hurt a baby, those are spikes after all)

Ignored. Nobody but Zeus makes eye contact/or acknowledges him. More than likely this is b/c they can't stand the guy and out of respect for Zeus they've elected to just ignore him and hope he goes away.

Zeus gaslights him - yes, the guy who gave him the underworld job is telling him to slow down and live a little. That's like your boss gives you a crap load of work and comes by to ask you why he never sees you take time off. I will die on this hill that's positively diabolical.

And lastly, Hades gets laughed off the mountain.

Not once in this entire film did Zeus ever check up on Hades after this. Not to apologize, not to make up for lost time, bring up an opportunity for a party you could come to, or perform a wellness check. That would've been so hilarious seeing Zeus pop into the underworld and the entire scene is just Hades shenanigans of trying to cover up evidence of his plot to murder this guy.

Although to be fair, Myth!Zeus had the same issue!

BUT to Myth!Zeus's credit, he made an attempt to improve his brooding brother's mood. And he did it in the worst way possible by immediately fixing him up with Persephone. So you really can't say that Myth!Zeus isn't trying.

Now since I've bashed Zeus I will give him some credit on his first scene. Hades isn't there to stay and chat, he's on a recon mission. And he evades all his brother's attempts at conversation. He cuts bolt boy off, uses humor as a defense mechanism, and he deflects every time Zeus tries to get cozy. Why?

Homeboy found out a new godling was born.

And the way the movie presents Baby Hercules- from Zeus being awkward and kind of scared to hold him- I get the vibes that the writers are making Zeus out to be a first time dad.

Yeah, apparently we're ignoring Athena, Ares, Apollo, Artemis, Bacchus, Hermes, Hephaestus, etc

Wild I know, but there is a purpose to it.

@persephoneflowerpetals made a very interesting blog post about this particular aspect that deserves a look and got me to thinking.

So not to steal their thunder, but Hades showing up to Hercules' Amphidromia (ancient greek family festival where newborn babies are given their name in front of their family & friends on 5th or 7th day of life) was for him to see who his competition was - whether or not Hercules sided with Zeus or not when Hades' own uprising happens.

And by not siding with Zeus, I'm talking about Hercules having his own type of uprising and usurping his father as all the previous kings had done before him.

Which is really cool! It's taking the Lion King/Hamlet story from a different angle. The nephew is just as much of a threat as his father if not more.

You see age doesn't really factor for Greek gods (Artemis was born minutes before her brother and she helped her mom deliver him & the food of the gods aged baby godlings quickly) so it's a very smart move for Hades to see what he was up against very quickly. Hell at this point in time he had no idea he just needed to wait 18 more years for his uprising.

And that's why Hades was more concerned about the sunspot than his own brother. It could very well be that he wouldn't be fighting Zeus, but Hercules for the ownership of the Olympian throne.

This puts Hercules on equal footing with Zeus in terms of level and power and establishes why Herc is the main protagonist- not Zeus.

Hell, if anything, Hades knows from experience that posterity can easily overtake the previous generation. He did that once despite the odds being stacked against him and his siblings even though Gospel Truth claims Zeus stopped the Titans on his own.

Part III: Olympus is That Way

The Titan Jail break will never not be funny to me. We see 5 giant Titans stomping around in the woods, the seas, the fields, cities, etc in what I am assuming is about sunrise?

You mean to tell me there wasn't a single person- or god, we have to remember there are gods in this universe that didn't want to- I don't know- let Zeus know what was coming? I mean it's not like Poseidon would know they were freed from their underwater prison, or Apollo as he's driving his chariot- it is a bit cloudy after all, or any others to notice their cities with mortals actively praying to them are under a massive attack.

Horses were killed, Poseidon. Your descendants. My sibling the horse girl is very disappointed in you.

Now I know this is touched upon in my series Hercules Conflicts Part II, but it does merit a mention since ultimately it is Zeus' fault / laziness that the Titans were able to show up on their front doorstep without anyone realizing until too late.

And Zeus is absolutely torn apart when he realizes it was his brooding baby brother who gave him the ol' Judas Kiss.

I couldn't find the gif of Zeus' realization face that maybe what his brother was going through was not just a phase. However, just like Mufasa before him, bolt boy realizes too late of his brother's treachery.

And what's the last line, Hades delivers to Zeus:

Oh?!

Is- is Hades bitter about the job Zeus gave him? Of being ordered around while the rest of the pantheon got to play around and have some fun?

Jokes aside, but Hades' whole plot, all his animosity and antagonism towards Zeus came because of the lot he was given by bolt boy over here. And while Hades does call Zeus his greatest rival it's because Zeus put him in that position in the first place.

Zeus created his worst enemy.

It's like one of my profs commented once in my classes back in my uni days. The oil spill that happened in the Gulf of Mexico didn't happen because of one mistake. It happened because of several mistakes, several oversights, several safety overrides for the sake of not losing money were made over a period of years that eventually lead to a disaster that no longer could be ignored.

And that is ultimately what became Zeus' fatal flaw in this movie.

His negligence.

We can blame the other gods for not being as committed as well, but it's like Hopper says in bug's life:

Zeus is at fault for his brother's betrayal, his son being turned mortal, and the mess the Titan's left in their wake.

So at the end of the movie when the Muses deliver another absolute banger, the system doesn't change. Things go back to the way they were just minus the one guy at the bottom most rung of the cosmos' ladder.

If change is to happen it starts at the top.

Not to end this on a downer- although we all know how screwed this world is after the credits roll, but I am happy to report, dear reader, that change does happen.

It's small, but it's still resounding.

Hercules chooses not to join his father. Just as Hades predicted in the opening scene if you go along with my theory from earlier in this post in Part II. And this wasn't even with the assistance of prophecy, it was because Hades knew his brother too well.

Zeus has a very exclusive club atop Olympus and he would never let someone like Meg, despite all that she's sacrificed and redeemed herself for. Because Meg is a representation of Hades here. Something I was very vocal about in Part 1 of my Hercules Conflicts Series.

And before you argue, remember, Zeus is the one who told Hercules that only gods can live on Olympus. Bolt boy knew Hercules was about to ask for a freebie for her, but his stance was made very clear on the matter.

So, Hercules refuses. Hades was proven to be correct.

Now, Hades just didn't know why Hercules would defect. And Hercules goes back to being a mortal because of Hades. Because Hades put Meg in the right place at the right time. Sure, it's because of Meg that Hades loses. But Hades got someone to realize Olympus isn't all its cracked up to be.

Through mortality.

The very aspect Hades himself represents as lord of the dead and god of the underworld.

Maybe Hades did win after all.

If you made it this far, thanks for reading!

Till next time, my dear readers

~Angel

[chenfordspiral]

I feel the need to apologize for what clearly became angst day central here, so, with that being said, give me 5 fluffy moments you want to see, this season or any future season.

Fulfill your wildest dreams!!

Nooo, absolutely no need to apologize, Becca! It’s angsty season now for Chenford so of course it's angsty season for us too 😂

But I’ll gladly list 5 fluffy moments I’d love to see!

1. Cuddling in bed. Listen, it’s not even negotiable anymore. I NEED IT 🥺

2. I wouldn’t say no to a happy hug for once. Bonus points if one of them hugs the other from behind.

3. Oh, date night! Uninterrupted. I’d also love to see them hang out with another couple, maybe like a double date.

4. Speaking of spending time with other couples: wouldn’t a game night type of thing be fun?! With everyone there so we can get aaaallllll the family vibes. Gimme something like 5x13 at Nolan’s again. We know we all want it.

5. Technically, I already said cuddling, but… oh well. Cuddling with Kojo! Don’t care if it’s on the couch or in bed, but I’d love to see the boy actually spend some time with his humans, and all three of them cuddled up together would absolutely make me melt.

Can I add a sixth? No? Cool, imma do it anyway.

6. Mentioning "our kids" again! And, ya know, if they feel like it, they could also talk about moving in together (officially) and potentially finding a whole new place together while they're at it? I would die dead. Over and over. If we're talking about things for in, like, three seasons.. yeah, I'm gonna need to see them with their baby. Just imagine the family cuddles with the three of them (and Kojo!) on a lazy, rainy Sunday... okay, clearly I want lots of cuddles for them lol.

Thanks for asking, Becca! This just made me emotional for totally non-angsty reasons 😭😂

[fiapartridge]

speak now | will smith

"so glad you were around when they said speak now"

will smith x perreault!sister

summary: daisy rudely barges into a white-veil occasion and will marries the wrong girl...

word count: 1.6k

warning(s): angsty??? but happy ending woo

yeah, i didn't proofread this just try ur best

Will was getting married– to a girl named Samantha. 

Daisy felt her heart fall through her chest. She hadn’t even been invited. She had to learn this from an Instagram post forwarded by her sister, Lili. Daisy’s hand rose to her mouth, muffling her silent cries as she sank to the wooden floor, her phone slipping out of her grasp.

Will was getting married. 

And she hated herself for it. She had been the one that broke up with him, she was the one that moved across the country, she was the one that promised to keep contact but didn't. She couldn't. Every time her eyes drifted over to Will’s phone number, her heart tugged, telling her to make up with him, that he’s the love of her life, that no one else could make her as happy as he did. 

But her mind reminds her how unhappy she was in California. None of the jobs she applied for reached out to hire her, she hated the weather, she missed her family, she didn’t have any friends, and the only thing that really kept her there was Will. Every time she went to bed, she wondered if she really wanted this life. Didn’t she tell herself that she wouldn’t give up her life and move across the country for a guy? Well, she did exactly that. 

She broke up with him two months later, telling him that she applied for a biotech job in Boston and she got it. It spurred the conversation of why she would even apply for a job in Boston in the first place. I mean, Will was here in California. Didn’t she want to be with him? Truthfully, it was all she ever wanted– to be with him, but that was all she was doing. Being with him. They lived in a fancy apartment that Will paid the rent for. They ate at fancy restaurants that Will always took the tab for. They go on drives in Will’s fancy car that he paid for on the spot. She wasn’t living her own life, she was living Will’s– and she just couldn’t do it anymore.

“Come on, you have to be at the wedding. I can’t go without you,” Gabe urged his younger sister as they sat for lunch, eating breakfast sandwiches in Central Park. She decided to pay him a visit after seeing the invitation. She couldn’t go through it alone. 

Daisy shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

She couldn’t believe he was asking her that. The answer seemed obvious. Rolling her eyes, she said, “One, he didn’t want me there enough to invite me, and two… I still love him. I can’t watch him get married to someone else.”

Gabe sighed, throwing his arm over her shoulder. “He’s coming back.”

“What?” she asked. Her head moved fast, looking to Gabe for more answers.

“He got traded,” he bit his lip, watching the water fountain in front of them. His arm slipped off of Daisy’s shoulder. “He’s gonna be a Bruin.”

Daisy couldn’t hear anything else he said after that. Will was coming back. He was coming back to Boston. He was coming back to her. He was coming back as a married man.

“I’ll go,” she said softly, catching Gabe in surprise. He didn’t expect her to actually say yes. “If you ask Will before. I don’t want it to be weird.”

Gabe smiled, his shoulder nudging hers. “He was the one who asked me to ask you.”

Daisy’s eyebrows narrowed. Had he wanted her to go? Why didn’t he just send an invitation? “He could’ve just invited me.”

“He thought you’d throw it away after seeing his name. He thinks you hate him.”

“Why would he think that?” she asked. 

“Well, you left the guy without much of an explanation, you moved across the country, and you didn’t answer a single one of his calls. I think he just had a hunch.”

“I don’t hate him,” Daisy whispered. 

“Then go to the wedding. He saved a seat for you.”

A month later, Daisy was in a soft purple dress, sitting in a clear chair, watching the love of her life get married to another woman. Gabe held her hand tightly the first time she made eye contact with Will. The second time, he squeezed it. The third time, he let go. He could tell that Will was still in love with Daisy just as much as she was in love with him. Hell, Will couldn’t take his eyes off her for a second. It was just like the first time he saw Daisy. She was as beautiful and breathtaking as ever. 

He was marrying another woman. He couldn’t be thinking about Daisy. But every time he thought about marriage, about the perfect life, he thought about her. Not about Samantha, and certainly not about this moment. He knew it was wrong, that it would crush Samantha if she found out that he wasn’t marrying her for love, but to fill the emptiness that Daisy left. But wouldn’t it hurt her more if she didn’t know? That their whole marriage was just a lie?

The organs start to play a song that sounds like a death march as Samantha floats down the aisle, her white dress fitting her slim body perfectly. She was everything you could ever want in a woman. Daisy couldn’t help but wonder: maybe Will dodged a bullet? Maybe this was the happy ending he was meant to have?

When her eyes met Will’s again, the preacher was saying the mandatory, “Speak now or forever hold your peace.” She swore she could feel his gaze pierce through her. Maybe she was seeing things, but it looked like he was waiting the entire ceremony for this one moment. 

Gabe leaned over, whispering into Daisy’s ear. “Time’s running out. If you want him, you gotta do something, Dais.”

She looked down the rest of her row, her best friends, Will’s teammates during NCAA, her family, they all smiled back, encouraging her. As she stood up, gasps followed in her wake. Her hands were shaky, everyone’s eyes were on her, but the only person she could look at was Will. 

She gulped, realizing that she’d have to actually say something. She didn’t have a single damn thing prepared. What are you supposed to say when you wreck your ex boyfriend’s wedding? 

As if he could feel her nerves, Will softly smiled at Daisy. Maybe it was going to be okay. “I’m not the kind of girl to do this. But you’re also not the type of guy to be marrying the wrong girl. Will, I broke up with you because I felt like I was living a life that wasn’t mine. But,” the tears couldn’t help but fall from her eyes, rushing down her pink cheeks. “My life is nothing without you in it. And I’m sorry… for everything,” she gulped. “I’m so sorry.”

With that, she wiped her tears and fled the scene. Once she made it to the parking lot, she began to sob. She ruined Will’s wedding, she humiliated herself, and everyone in that place probably hated her now. And to make matters worse, her little speech didn’t even do anything. Will was still in there, getting married to another girl.

“Daisy!”

Her head whipped around, and her heart dropped. 

Will. 

Will was in the parking lot, his tie was undone, and he looked like a mess. A perfect mess.

Upon seeing him there, she couldn’t help but cry some more. Was he mad? Was he going to scream at her for ruining everything? Maybe he was kicking her out, not just from the wedding, but from his life. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he walked closer, his hands finding solace on the rosy cheeks he loved so much. He gently wiped her tears with his thumbs. “You crashed my wedding,” he snickered.

“Are you mad?”

He shook his head, his pretty ocean eyes never leaving her woodsy hazel ones. “No,” he smiled. “I’m so so glad. I’m in love with you, Daisy. It’s you I wanted to marry. It’s always been you.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Daisy smiled. She remembered one of their earlier conversations from when he was first trying to get her to fall for him. 

“Tiny Gabe, I have a feeling you don’t like me,” Will said, standing beside her in the kitchen as she chopped an apple for the girls. They were having a sleepover at Grace’s house, meaning they were having a sleepover at Will’s. When Gabe found out, he knew he had to tag along which meant that Ryan, Drew, Oliver, and all of the other boys from the team had to tag along, too.

“Hm,” she hummed, her hand falling to her hip. “Why ever would you wonder that?”

“I just get the feeling,” he shrugged, stealing an apple from the cutting board.

“Yeah? Then, maybe that’s your signal to move on. I’m sure there’s other pretty girls in the sea for you,” she smiled, patting his shoulder as she walked over to the living room, Will in tow. 

“Yeah, but I only want the mean pretty girl that’s a foot shorter than me,” he smirked.

Daisy rolled her eyes. “This is never going to happen, Smitty.”

“I guess I’ll just have to spend my whole life convincing you.”

Daisy brows raised. “Convincing me what?”

“That it's me you're meant to be with.”

Daisy’s arms wrapped around his neck as she stood on her tippy toes, her eyes getting lost in his ocean of blue, reminding her of all the times she would sit there for hours just staring at him and wondering how she got so lucky. “If you marry me, you’re going to lose all of the other pretty girls fawning over you.”

“Yeah, but I only want the mean pretty girl that’s a foot shorter than me,” he laughed.

"I'm happy that you managed to convince me."

His hands drifted down to her hips. "Yeah?"

"Mhm," she nodded. "I'm gonna marry you, Will."

"Grace told me that the courthouse is still open."

Daisy smirked. "She did?"

"Yeah, she was very adamant on telling me. I think she wants this almost as badly as I do."

"How badly do you want it?"

His lips raised, his dimple showing slightly. "Baby, I've wanted this since I was 16."

"Will?" she called as she laid her head on his chest, letting his arms wrap around her.

He hummed in response.

"I don't think I ever hated you. I don't think I could."

By the end of the day, they were known as Daisy and Will Smith. Their families rushed to the courthouse and witnessed their on-the-spot vows, and Will couldn't be more glad that Daisy was around when they said "Speak now."