#change bc she won’t let him .. and the anger that will surface bc it’s another person controlling him but it’s disguised under LOVE ?????

[swordmaid]

anyway I really do like the idea that his darling spawn shri’iia who’s whole job is to adore him forever and an eternity becomes his very undoing bc he fails to account what that would mean to her. like baby girl you just validated each and every one of her flaws and ugly side just like she validated yours. now you’re stuck with that 🫶🥰🤭

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

I See You, I Know You- and I’m Not Going Anywhere

You're All I've Ever Wanted, All I Want to Know, part 2

Warnings: SMUT! THERE IS LOTS OF SMUT AHEAD!, oral (fem receiving), p in v sexy sex, shitty fiance of reader being shitty, slurs against the french (frog/froggy), angst, LOADS of feels, infidelity, gene mooning over reader to potentially OOC levels, tiny bit of innocence kink referenced, reader gets chatty when horny, untranslated french (bc it’s Gene’s POV so he wouldn’t think process and translate french in his head (let me know if you want me to add them)), unprotected sex (let’s just pretend there’s no risk, yes?), guilt, lots of potty words.

(My fancast for Peter Kelly is Pablo Schreiber but feel free to ignore it.)

Title(s) come from Duet by Penny and Sparrow and Only You by Matthew Perryman Jones

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It had been a relatively calm day in Schoonderlogt. The day was sunny- cold, but sunny- and everyone was taking advantage of the well-deserved break from the frontlines.

Gene was drinking some of the best coffee he’d had in months while watching a handful of Airborne and Army soldiers play some vaguely ruled interpretation of basketball, his eyes darting every so often towards the table a few yards away where you and the other nurses were casually sterilizing the linens and strips of fabric. 

You looked beautiful- your hair loose and your smile radiant as you laughed and joked with your friends. It wasn’t often that all of the company’s nurses were at the same place at the same time, so when the stars aligned and you got to see each other it never failed to bring you joy that would last for days afterward.

Your eyes caught his, and Gene couldn’t help but smile when you shot him a wink.

The merriment didn’t last much longer for you.

While Gene had been lighting a cigarette, he was dimly aware of another Jeep-load of Army men arriving at the mouth of the courtyard, not really concerned with the new arrivals.

Until you screamed.

When Gene and the other Easy men whipped their heads over towards the sound, he saw that someone- some man- had wrapped their arms around you from behind and lifted you off of your feet, a broad smile on the man’s face as he spun you around bodily.

“Froggy!”

Gene hadn’t realized he’d already gotten up and begun rushing for you until he saw Liebgott sprinting past him with balled fists and a fixed jaw. His blood was cold in his veins, heart thrumming anxiously as he catches sight of your pale face when the man sets you down, quickly turning in the man’s embrace and staring up at the grinning intruder.

Everyone comes to a halt when the man grips your bottom and pulls you into him for a deep kiss.

“Hey, Y/N!” Liebgott shouts, Gene watching with angry confusion as you quickly pull out of the kiss but don’t continue to shove the man away. “This guy bothering you?”

With your cheeks blazing, you offer a smile that doesn't reach your eyes, eyes still wide and flickering between Easy and this stranger.

“No,” you manage to say before the man wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you back into him.

“You gonna introduce me, Froggy-girl?”

Gene doesn’t like the way this man is bodily handling you, but what he really doesn’t like is how you seem to be letting him.

You clear your throat before shyly meeting Gene’s eyes.

“Guys, this is Peter Kelly,” you quickly look away from Gene and look to Joe Liebgott. “My fiance.”

You might as well have yanked Gene’s feet from under him.

~

Peter was everything Gene wasn’t: loud and boisterous and gregarious and extroverted, his jovial attitude initially winning over most of the guys.

That approval dissipates the more Peter drinks that night.

For Gene, he’d hated the man instantly. Not only because he was already half in love with you- although that was certainly a contributing factor.

No, Pete lost any respect from Gene the moment he saw the clear hickies hiding just beneath the collar of the man’s shirt. 

One time, when the two of you had been rolling bandages for restocking the soldier’s med-kits, you’d insinuated that Peter had a wandering eye. You hadn’t elaborated, but there had certainly been a tone of sad acceptance in your voice as you’d said it.

Judging by the way your eyes kept lingering on Peter’s throat, Gene knew that you knew exactly what had caused those marks.

It made Gene furious, but for your sake, he kept his seething to a minimum.

You seemed to shrink in on yourself, as if Peter’s presence made you wither from the inside. The more he spoke about you, it was clear to anyone listening that he didn’t respect you. Several times, Peter had referred to your nursing as ‘endearing’, ignoring your reminder that you weren’t doing this as a hobby with a look of faux apology and an admonishment for ‘upsetting your delicate frog-feelings’.

When Guarno had finally taken the bait and asked what all the frog references were about, you’d frowned and excused yourself with a grimace- a glower staining your face when Peter’s arm shoots out to pull you into his lap.

“Well, just look at her face- Doesn’t she look like the poutiest widdle frog?” 

He said this like a praise, Gene’s blood boiling as he watches you glare at a spot on the ground. With a bit of the fire you normally showed, you detangle yourself from his hold and announce that you’re going to refill your canteen- ignoring his childish whine and yelping when he smacks your ass as you leave.

“Also,” Peter says like a secret while hungrily watching you walk away. “Her mama’s second husband was one of those Frenchie types- so sometimes she acts a little spoiled- and all of us used to tell her to stop bein’ so froggy.”

When Peter shoots a wink Gene’s way, Gene gives him a glare before getting up and going the opposite direction you- not wanting to make your life any more difficult than Peter was clearly making it right now.

A little bit later, after Peter and some of the other Army guys invite Easy to join them at their basecamp, Gene overhears you and Peter arguing behind one of the stone buildings.

“I’m basically your husband, how am I supposed to explain to the guys that my girl doesn’t even want me to spend the night with her?”

“Because I know what ‘spending the night’ entails, and that is certainly not happening—”

Gene hears Peter groan, the beer he’d had earlier making him act more immature than before.

“I’m not getting tested. Why can’t you just trust me—?”

“Because you’re not trustworthy!” your voice is shrill, disgust lurking below the surface. “You clearly have been with someone recently, and I refuse to risk my job- my life- because you want to get off.”

Peter scoffs at that, and Gene creeps closer to hear better.

“You’re a nurse, Y/N. it’s not like you’re a medic—”

“Fuck you.”

Gene retreats quickly upon hearing your footsteps, only stopping when he hears a smacking sound. Before he can rush back, he hears you snarl.

“Don’t think you can ever put your hands on me like that ever again- on anyone. Next time, I won’t go easy on you with a slap. Now go away.”

~

With everyone else gone to the Army’s basecamp, Gene joins you in your temporary quarters, where you’re scribbling inventory reports with an angry grip on your pen.

It’s tense- and Gene wonders if you’d somehow known that he’d overheard your spat with Peter earlier. Your shoulders are up by your shoulders, leg bouncing beneath the table as you sit on the seat’s edge.

Gene knows you’re upset, but selfishly he’s upset too and knows he won’t be able to leave you to fester without at least trying to talk to you.

With obvious frustration, you all but throw your finished report towards the pile of completed paperwork by your feet, clearing your throat a few times as you stare at the wall in front of you.

Suddenly you sigh, your head tilting upward as your shoulders slump in defeat.

“Just go ahead and say it, Eugene.”

Gene frowns, staring at the back of your head. “Say what, Y/N—?”

“Whatever you’re trying so hard not to say, I can feel you ruminating all the way from over here.”

He pauses, feeling as if he may be walking into a trap that could make things infinitely worse. 

Screw it.

“You deserve better.”

You scoff sadly, a bitter sound that makes his chest ache in empathy.

“You sure about that?”

“‘Course I am. You deserve someone who doesn’t talk to you like you’re nuthin’. Someone who is kind and good and wants to make you happy—”

“What makes you think that he isn’t all of those things?”

“He’s a pig, Y/N….he is nuthin’ but mean and cruel and you’ve gotta see that—”

“How do you know that I didn’t used to be like him- just like him?”

Now he’s getting angry too, all of his rage from earlier coming back in full force without his permission.

“Stop bein’ contrary jus’ for the sake of it! Jesus, Y/N, you clearly don’t love him, why’re you still married if—?”

You slam down the pen you’ve been tapping aggressively, whirling around to turn the full force of your scowl upon him.

“What makes you think I haven’t tried to end it?!”

Carelessly nudging the chair out of your path, you storm across the room to stand before him and jab your index finger into the center of his chest.

“I hate to break it to you, Eugene, but some women don’t get to change their minds! Some of us could beg until we’re blue in the face and we’ll still be forced to tie ourselves to men who we hate, just because our parents want to reap the benefits of such arrangements!”

Your lip has begun to quiver, eyes shining with unshed tears as you look up at him.

“Some of us don’t get to be happy, don’t get to marry the people we love!”

Guilt makes his stomach feel sour, especially when you bury your face in his shirtfront and bite back a whimper of heartbreak- your breath hot through the layers of clothing as you choke back more cries.

“Hey,” Gene whispers, the anger he’d been feeling sizzling out like a drenched flame. “‘M sorry, Y/N- please don’t cry….”

You allow him to encourage your face away from his chest, taking your face in his hands and brushing the hair out of your face.

You look so defeated, so goddamn hopeless that it almost makes him want to cry, too. 

Unable to bear the sight of you upset for one more moment, Gene interrupts you mid-sob to catch your lips in a reassuring kiss.

It’s rougher than he intended, his desperation to quell your sorrow causing him to pull you into him a bit too quickly and causing your noses to press together uncomfortably for a moment. To his surprise, you don’t make any move to pull away- your hands coming up to grip at the front of his shirt with an anxiousness he hadn’t seen from you in years.

It reminds him of the first time he touched you.

Your lips are slightly trembling as you lean into him to deepen the kiss, and when Gene’s other hand comes up to cup your face he can feel the stick of drying tears on his palm. Seeing how your fiance had possessively gripped your face in his hand earlier had Gene’s blood boiling earlier- the lack of reverence the man had for you painfully clear in the way he spoke to you, the way he seemed to grope at you as if your flesh solely existed for his pleasure.

As if Gene didn't have enough reasons to hate Peter Kelly, the son of a bitch didn’t even appreciate the gift Gene knew you to be.

You were better than any of them, and he was sure that if he were to ask anyone else in Easy they would say the same. And, if the tension between Peter and the rest of the men were anything to go by, the general consensus was that the man didn’t deserve you. How he’d gotten you in the first place was a marvel that Gene couldn’t even begin to fathom.

Right now, all he knew was you, you, you.  

Your hands fisted in his hair offered the most comforting sting of passion, and Gene would be lying if he said that having you so fervent for him didn’t drive him to the brink of insanity. Heightened emotion was something the both of you seemed to have lost throughout this god-awful war, something you’d both had to relinquish in order to survive. 

Any time you showed these sparks of life, Gene felt a warmth in his chest that envied the most golden sunshine.

It reminded him that you were alive and he was alive and there was still a chance for something good to happen after all of this.

All of his thoughts return to you, feeling guilty for reflecting in a moment that demanded- no, deserved all of his attention and gratitude. He could admire you privately after you fell asleep, in his arms.

Right now, he needed to remind you that you were something worthy of worship.  

You whimper against his mouth when he slides his hands up the planes of your back beneath your sweater, breaking away from your lips momentarily to pull the sweater over your head and toss it to the floor. 

“I need you,” you’re whispering, your hands coming to tear at the buttons of his jacket as if it is personally offending you. “I’m so sorry, but I do….Please, Gene! I fucking need you—!”

Gene is quick to shush you, quickly helping you finish divesting him of his jacket so he can swallow your apologies in another toe-curling kiss. Growing up, he’d been taught that marriage was a life-long commitment, that anyone who broke that promise was ungodly or impure.

Of course, he’d also naively believed that people only got married because they were deeply and wholly in love with one another. It wasn’t until he had met you in Toccoa that he’d realized that love sometimes had nothing to do with it, that those sort of things weren't necessarily as clean-cut as he’d been led to believe.

Taking your face in his hands again, he tilts your face up so he can kiss at the warm skin beneath your jaw, liking the way your moan vibrates in your throat as he walks you back to the table you’d been working at and presses your backside against it.  The sound of your open-mouthed panting had him painfully hard already- it’s almost embarrassing how little you have to do to get him like this.

He hadn’t even realized one of your hands had been working at the fastening of his pants until you’ve begun to scratch your nails softly down the skin of his lower stomach, and when his hips jump in surprise he can feel your breath hitch in your throat with heady amusement. When you do it again, he can hear the smile in your exhale.

“Such a perfect cock,” you nearly coo, your touch light as your fingertips brush over the head of him. “Can’t believe how perfect you are….”

You get like this sometimes when you get turned on, Gene has come to learn.- all lust-drunk and babbly as your words switch from thoughtful to stream of consciousness. It’s endearing, so wildly endearing that Gene would go as far as to call this habit cute. 

Cute was the only term you ever showed resistance to, even in jest. Your reaction to the word was so viscerally negative that it had even surprised him- the person who you had frequently insisted knew you the best.

After meeting your fiance and his degrading attempts at ‘praise’, Gene was now able to understand why. 

Your hand was stroking him in earnest now, having used his precum to coat your hand so your movements were smooth and confident. Despite the fact that he’d managed to get your trousers undone and loose around your thighs, Gene hadn’t been able to actually do anything else other than clutch at your hips and gasp into your neck as you rhythmically ruined him.

Normally, this is as far as you two would get- one of you getting the other off with your hands (and sometimes mouths) before someone or something would interrupt the other’s attempt at reciprocation and you’d both have to dive back into your duties to the Company. It was deeply unsatisfying- particularly for Gene because he wasn’t afraid to admit that making you cum wasn’t one of his favorite things to do. Each and every time he didn’t get to return the favor made him feel terribly guilty- like he had somehow exploited your feelings for him.

It made him feel sick. It didn’t matter how many times you insisted that you didn't see it that way, he always was left feeling as if he’d been inexcusably selfish. 

He hated it.

But tonight was different. For once, the two of you weren’t the only medics available for the dozens of men who seemed to have a near-constant stream of injuries and festering wounds. The Army was there with their fourteen medics and nurses and the majority of Easy company had gone to visit their camp in order to mooch some of their beer and US-funded entertainment.

No one would be interrupting his time with you tonight. 

Not even your fiance, who was no doubt dishonoring his vows of fidelity right now.

It didn’t have to stop. He didn’t want it to stop.

“Wait, Minette,” Gene chokes out, reaching down to stop your sinfully-sweet touch before he lost himself in it. “Jus’ wait a second…..”

You make a sound of disappointment in your throat, and when he pulls back enough to look at you he can see a small pout on your lips- as if he’s deprived you of something. The sight makes him feel lightheaded, the implications almost enough to….

Focus, focus.

“You were so close,” your voice holds an undertone of frustration, your other hand attempting to sneak down and finish what the other had started. When he takes that wrist as well, your eyebrows furrow almost comically. “What are you doing, Eugene—?”

You cut yourself off when he suddenly drops to his knees, hands hooking in the waist of your pants and underwear as he does so and shucking them down to your ankles. Your eyes are wide now, cheeks flushed and eyebrows high in surprise.

Keeping his gaze on you, he leans forward enough to press a kiss to your freshly bared thigh. By the time he moves to give the other the same treatment, he can see that your eyes are becoming soft once more.

“I wanna take your boots off,” Gene says as evenly as he can, electricity crackling in his veins at the smell of you. “Can I do that, Y/N?”

At your hurried nod, Gene kisses a ‘good girl’ to your skin quickly before bowing his head to unlace your boots with shaking fingers. He’s thankful for the time it takes him to do so- it gives him the opportunity to get his thoughts together and regain some semblance of control over himself.

Maybe one day he could be impulsive when it came to you, when neither of you had the threat of death hanging over your heads like a heavy cloud.

But now, with each moment commonly understood as having the potential to be your last, Gene couldn’t afford to leave you as anything other than satisfied…..worshipped.

By the time he has your boots removed and one of your legs freed from your trousers, he wants nothing more than to make you come apart beneath him. Because of him.

Looking back up at you, he can see that you’ve unbuttoned your shirt and thrown it open so he can see your nipples harden beneath your once white t-shirt- the weather was far too cold to consider undressing to complete nudity. Your mouth is pink and swollen, shiny from your tongue having recently darted out to wet them.

For a moment, Gene is stuck- too awed by your beauty to risk moving and missing a moment of it. Your heated whisper of his name is the only thing that shakes him free, and he can’t help but lean into your touch when you card a hand through his hair again.

Bringing his rifle-roughened hands to your knees, he purposefully slides them up your thighs until he can rub his thumbs over your hip bones. When he presses on them lightly, you follow his touch and perch yourself on the edge of the table with a quiet curse. The action parts your lower lips slightly, a movement he is quick to chase with his mouth. 

He wastes no time shouldering his way between your thighs, using his hands to guide them over his shoulders as he starts to lick gently at the seam of your sex.

“Fuck,” you whimper, your other hand coming down to scratch lightly at his scalp. “Fuck, Eugene….you don’t have to—ohh!”

Your unnecessary reassurance is lost in a sigh of arousal the moment his thumbs open you up more for him so he can circle the tip of his tongue around your clit before laving it more purposefully. You always tried to reassure him that using his mouth on you wasn’t necessary, clearly not accustomed to having a partner who enjoyed doing so.

Not that Gene was an expert, not by any means.

But, between having mapped out your sex with his fingers and the limited experience he’d had before the war paired with his- er, considerable knowledge of the human anatomy- he knew enough to take out most of the guesswork.

He hasn’t had many opportunities to go down on you- three on the boat ride to England, five times during your time in Alderbourne, twice since dropping into Normandy. You’d dropped to your knees for him far more than that, and now that he had more perspective on what your relationship with Peter had probably entailed Gene was determined to make up for each and every indulgence you’d offered him.

The tremor of your thighs tells him that you’re getting close, and he can tell by the way the muscles of your stomach clench beneath his greedy palm that you’re starting to have a hard time keeping yourself up as you watched him devour you. He hadn’t realized how vigorously he’d been attending to you, too lost in your taste and smell to hear the interspersing chant of his name being showered upon him as praise spilled from your lips once more.

With a groan, brings you to orgasm, refusing to cease his suckling despite the blooming ache in his jaw. It isn’t until your foot raises to press at his shoulder that he allows you to push him away, and he can tell that he’s exhausted you by the way you fall back and writhe while your release works itself through your bloodstream.

“Oh my God, Gene,” you keep repeating, chest jumping with adrenaline. “Why are you….how are you so good?”

He chuckles at that, his cheeks darkening at the praise. Gene watches as your eyes skate down his body to look at his cock, swallowing audibly before looking into his eyes once more. Before he can assure you that he understands if you don’t want to keep going, you carefully sit up and look up at him bashfully, biting the inside of your lower lip and bringing your hand to his cheek.

The look you’re giving him starts to make him nervous. He’s about to ask you what’s wrong when you clear your throat and tell him.

“I...I don’t know if I’m good at it.”

Gene frowns, searching your face for clarification as to what you’re trying to say.

“What’re you mean, ma cherie? What’s got you so worried?”

Your shoulders nearly slump as you sigh, giving him a weak smile as you clear your throat once more. 

“At sex, Gene. I’m worried—I don’t know how to make it good for you...”

With a shake of his head, he brings his crooked index finger under your chin to stop you from hanging your head in embarrassment. You look so lost right now it breaks his heart.

“Minette, you are the best thing to ever happen to me.”

When you open your mouth to rebuke his statement he’s quick to kiss you, using his free hand to bring yours from his cheek to press against the middle of his chest. It takes you a moment, but you do kiss him back, inhaling sharply as he nips carefully at your bottom lip.

Pulling back, Gene traces his thumb over your lips and gives you a soft smile.

“Never worry about me, ‘cause there isn’t a damn thing you could do that wouldn’t make it ‘good for me’.”

You narrow your eyes at that. “I doubt that’s true—”

Gene snorts and shakes his head admonishingly. “Doubt all you want, darlin’. Don’t make any of what I said change one bit.”

You look at him for a bit, eyes softening again and your hand smoothing down his chest with a hum. He thinks you’re going to require further reassurance until he watches as you purposefully part your mouth enough for his thumb to slip between your lips. The sight of you watching him paired with the drag of your tongue along the pad of his finger goes straight to his cock, reminding him of just how hard he’s become.

When you release him with a gentle nip to his fingertip, Gene stares at you in disbelief.

“Jésus Christ, cherie,” he can’t help but murmur. “Vous ne jouez pas juste…”

You tilt your head slightly, clearly aware of what he’s said but seeming to understand the gist of it.

“Show me what you like,” you whisper, scooting your hips to the very edge of the table and brushing your lips against his. “I’ve wanted you for so long….”

Gene kisses you as he slips inside of you, your gasp of pleasure sweet on his tongue. Unprompted, you bring your legs up to find some purchase around his hips and squeak as you take all of him in at once.

Bon Dieu, tu te sens comme le paradis….

You are clutching at him, your hands dancing for the best place to grip him before settling on one arm hooking around his neck and your other hand bracing at his left bicep. It’s an awkward position- probably because neither of you had ever tried to fuck on a table before- so Gene tries to get past the near blinding pressure building in his loins and wraps one of his arms around your hips to slightly adjust the bend in your spine.

“Shit, I’m sorry—!” you being to apologize before he cuts you off.

“Non, non, non, non Minette….just let me try and—”

You both cry out as he suddenly ruts deep, your nails digging into his flesh through his shirts you gape up at him in surprise.

“Oh, oh!”

“‘S that okay?” he grits out, resisting every fiber in his body that is begging for him to piston his hips and just fuck you already. You nod quickly, rolling your hips experimentally and kissing him quickly when he keens before he can stop himself. Gene grits his teeth at the sweetness you’re showing him. You’re just so good. “I’ll stop if it’s—”

“More than okay….do that again- please don’t stop!”

There’s something so…. overwhelming about the way you’re looking at him, with your eyes wide and lips parted. The whimper that comes from the back of your throat at his next thrust combined with your bewildered expression makes you appear so beautifully innocent that Gene momentarily forgets how to breathe. Maybe innocent is the wrong word. 

Honest. Yes, that was it.

It was your honesty that was overwhelming him, the lack of theater in your reactions to him and his touch so genuine and open that he almost didn’t know what to do with himself. Having you- the most glorious creature he’d ever met, would ever meet- gaze at him as if he’s hung the stars in the sky was just so bewitching and unexpected, particularly because of how highly he regarded you.

Your eyes have a glossy look to them, almost as if you were drunk. Rather than the babble he’d anticipated hearing from you, you’ve gone almost silent aside from the sighs and gasps of pleasure that accompany each piston of his hips into your tight velvet heat. Head lolled back, you watch him from under heavy lids while meeting his thrusts with careful pitches of your own, your eyelashes fluttering in response to his punched-out breath washing over your face.

If he didn’t know any better, Gene would say that you had undersold your experience on purpose. You had to know what you were doing to him.

How devastatingly close you were to unmanning him.

“Is it good, Ma Chatounette?” he can hear himself ask, his head already swimming with the initial signs of orgasm. “Am I making you feel good?”

You nod shallowly, mouth opening to reply but no sound coming out. The hand you’ve braced on his arm now has started to claw, and he can feel you tighten around him. 

You’re close, too.

“Please,” you nearly weep, your hips starting to rut against him. “Please please please please—!”

“D'accord,”’ he nods, taking your words as permission to allow his body to chase that fire that’s been burning him alive for quite some time now. “Je te donnerai ce dont tu as besoin, chérie. Je vais le rendre meilleur….”

Gene moans as you allow him to put a hand on your shoulder and press you back so you’re laying back on the table, your back arching sinfully as you mewl for him. Your legs tighten around his waist, and he feels his jaw go slack at the sight of your rolling hips coming to meet him thrust for thrust. You’ve begun to chant his name again, the sheen of sweat on your skin making you look like some carnal divinity sent to him for the sole purpose of ruining him.

And who was he to deny an angel?

Your arms wrap around him as he hunches over to brace his elbows by your shoulders, pressing your hot cheek against his - nibbling at his earlobe as his rhythm becomes punishing.

“Ma ruine, mon ange, je ne veux jamais être sans toi—”

“Come for me- please, please, I’ve never felt so good—”

It’s the catch of his pelvis against your clit that snaps both of you into oblivion, Gene’s vision going white as he clutches at whatever parts of you he can get his hands on, choking on his own breath as the bite of your fingernails adds the perfect amount of pain to his release. He’s aware of you crying out in release, but it’s swirled into the sound of blood racing in his ears as your tightening walls milk him for all he’s worth.

As his vision returns to him, he laboriously removes his head from the curve of your shoulder to look at you, his heart freezing midbeat when he sees tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Y/N?”

You’re shaking your head, hands finding his cheeks to bring his mouth to yours so you can kiss him syrupy-slow, the action throwing him for a loop.

“I’m happy,” you insist between kisses. “It was so good…. I-I don’t know why I’m crying, I’m sorry—”

Gene calms instantly, kissing you back and sighing into your mouth.

He understood what you were trying to say, knew exactly what you were experiencing. It made him stupidly happy that he wasn’t the only one overwhelmed by this….connection you two had.

He’d never had a lover who had reciprocated his feelings so fully. Then again, he’d never felt this with anyone else before, either.

“Don’t be sorry, Minette….I feel it, too.”

It takes the two of you a while, but you do eventually manage to move to the small mattress in the corner of the room, tangling yourselves together beneath the moderate warmth of the blankets and coats you’d scavenged earlier while avoiding Peter.

You must’ve thought he was asleep, because he has a feeling you wouldn’t have dared to say the words aloud.

“I love you,” you whispered against his shoulder in the darkness. “However terrible that makes me, I’m in love with you Eugene Roe.”

Gene is thankful for the pitch-black surrounding you. That way, he can allow himself to smile without fear of you seeing it.

Je suis amoureux de toi depuis des années, (Y/N).  J'ai hâte de te le dire un jour.

But for now, this was enough.

~ ~ ~

(*hides under covers for the rest of the day* OK THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME THIS HAS BEEN MY FIC DO WITH IT WHAT YOU WILL)

Taglist: @mrseasycompany​ @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite​ @happyveday​ @sunsetmando​ @ricksmorty​ @liebgotttme​

[iamanartichoke]

I wrote a Thing. It’s extremely long. I’d prefer it not be reblogged; I wrote this for my own catharsis and would prefer it not be circulated, bc of Reasons. 

I changed my mind, okay to reblog. <3 

Under a cut for (extreme, did I mention?) length. 

So I got about 12 minutes of sleep last night, as you do, and around 3am or so I found myself - out of sheer curiosity - going down a meta hole of Ragnarok discourse, trying to figure out where this "satisfying redemption arc" for Loki happened. (I mean, there's a lot of things I would like to figure out, but I started there.) Because I could. 

Basically I was looking for meta that went into detail about how Loki was redeemed in a satisfactory way. The ‘satisfactory’  is an important word here bc there is a redemption arc in the film, in that Loki starts off the film as an antagonist (kinda) to Thor and he ends the film as an ally to Thor, standing at Thor's side. In that sense, yes, there's a redemption arc. I didn't find much (and I had no idea how much people just despise Ragnarok "antis" [I really dislike that word] but that's another topic [that I don't particularly want to get into, tbh]) but I did find some. I read what I could find, and I read it open-mindedly, and overall I came away feeling like, okay, there are some valid points being made here and I can kinda see where they're coming from.

But it was a bit (a lot) like -- flat. Idk. The best comparison I can think of is that it’s like if a literature class read, I don't know, The Yellow Wallpaper for an assignment, and some of the students came away from it feeling like it was a creepy story about a woman slowly driving herself insane, and the other students came away from it incensed at the oppression and infantilization of women in the late 19th century -

- and neither side is wrong, but the former is a very surface-level reading and the latter isn't (bc it stems from looking at why she drives herself insane, why she was prescribed 'rest' in the first place, the context of what women could and couldn't do back then, etc; basically, a bit more work has to go into it). 

[Note: I am not disparaging the quality of The Yellow Wallpaper. At all. It’s just the first relatively well-known story that popped into my head.]

In this sense, I can see the argument for Loki's redemption arc, but I don't think it's a very good argument. Not invalid, but not great.

I mean, for example, I think the most consistent argument I found variations of re: Loki's redemption is that Ragnarok shows Loki finally taking responsibility for his bad behaviour and misdeeds. This includes recognizing that his actions were fueled from a place of self-hatred and a desire to self-destruct in addition to bringing destruction on others. That he probably feels awkward and regretful of these things and doesn't know how to act around Thor, but he figures it out by the end, and decides that returning to Asgard is the best way to show that he's ready to make amends. His act of bringing the Statesman to Asgard is an apology. He allies himself with Thor and ends up in a better place, both narratively (united with Thor once again) and mentally (having taken responsibility and made amends for his past).

And setting aside that he had already made amends by sacrificing his life in TDW (and also setting aside that the argument is made that Loki redeems himself in IW by sacrificing himself to Thanos but if that's the case, wouldn't that imply that he hadn't achieved redemption in Ragnarok or else there would be no need to achieve it again in IW? Or, if you think he did achieve redemption in Ragnarok, then what the fuck did he give his life in IW for? What was his motivation there, and why did the narrative not make it clearer? I digress.) 

- setting aside those two factors, I think this is a very fair argument. Loki is fueled by self-hatred, and he does want to self-destruct, and he does want to inflict that pain on others as well (particularly Thor). No lies detected here. 

However, I also need to know where that self-hatred and desire for destruction (toward himself and others) comes from and for that, we need to go back to Thor 1.

Thor 1. 

Loki starts Thor 1 out as "a clenched fist with hair," to borrow a quote from the Haunting of Hill House (that I tucked away in my mental box of Lovely Things bc it says so much so very simply). He's very used to bottling everything up, pushing it down; he slinks around behind the scenes, pulling the strings to this plot or that. He's "always been one for mischief," but the narrative implies that the coronation incident is the first time Loki's done anything truly terrible. And it all immediately pretty much goes to shit, so Loki spends the rest of the movie frantically juggling all these moving pieces while trying to seem as if he's got it all under control, every step of the way. That's how I view his actions. 

But I always come back to that quote where Kenneth Branaugh tells Tom, of the scene in the vault, "This is where the thin steel rod that's been holding your mind together snaps." In other words this is where Loki discovering he's Jotun is just one thing too many. He can't take it. But though the rod snaps, his descent isn't a nosedive. It's a tumble. As the story progresses, the clenched fist starts to loosen, the muscles are flexed in unfamiliar ways (that feel kinda good, after being stiff for so long), and it culminates with the hand opening completely and shaking itself out. All of that repression, that self-hatred, that rage and jealousy just explodes so that, by the time the bifrost scene happens, Loki's already hit bottom. It's not just about proving his worthiness to Odin. He wants to hurt Thor, too; he, essentially, throws a tantrum. (That's right, I said tantrum.) 

(Note: The word 'tantrum’ has negative connotations bc we normally equate it with a toddler stamping their feet and screaming in the aisle when their parent won't buy them the toy they want. But in itself, the word tantrum isn't infantalizing. It's an "emotional outburst, an uncontrolled explosion of anger and frustration" [paraphrasing from dictionary.com]. That's exactly what happens here [and why Tom called Loki's actions a massive tantrum, but people took that to mean Tom agreed it was childish whereas I doubt Tom meant it that way]).

He's been pushed past his limit, and he does bad things. He does really shitty things. He hurts Thor, he hurts his family. I'm pretty sure he knows this all along so this isn't, like, some revelation further down the line that "hey, those things I did were probably kinda bad." He got the memo already. 

Ragnarok 

Fast forward to Ragnarok, and we're introduced to a version of Loki who's had 4ish years to sit with everything that's happened. To sit with it and not do much else. The rawness of it has faded, and now it seems as though it's just become a thing, like when you move through life aware of your childhood traumas and have more or less just accepted them (and you probably share a lot of really funny depression memes on Facebook, which is kinda the equivalent of Loki's play, but that's probably just me). 

Loki has, more or less, chilled out. He seems more bored than anything else; he's been masquerading as Odin for longer than he ever planned or intended to, so he's more or less ended up hanging out, letting Asgard mind its own business, and entertaining himself with silly plays. This is the version that starts out the movie as an antagonist to Thor - a version that is, arguably, in a much different place [and is a much milder threat] than the version who originally did those Bad Things. 

And of course Thor is still mad at him, and of course they're going to butt heads, because that's what they do (and Thor's grievances are genuine, I’ll add, bc it's not really his fault he assumed Loki faked his death, nor can he be blamed for being pissed about Odin).

One argument framed this version of Loki as being a person who is facing the awkwardness of coming out of a dark place, which is fair. If we're going to frame his actions in Thor 1 as a tantrum, then Ragnarok would be the part where the toddler has been taken home, possibly has had some lunch and a juice box, and is now watching cartoons. They're over the tantrum, and would probably feel pretty silly about it if they weren't, yknow, toddlers. They probably can't remember why they even wanted that toy so badly. If they're a little older and self-aware, they might even be embarrassed for having melted down.

Like the word tantrum, this feeling isn't a thing limited to toddlers. I know I've had a few epic meltdowns as a grown ass adult, and I know I always feel deeply embarrassed afterwards - like, want to crawl into a hole and die. I've said things I can't take back. Adolescents and teenagers throw tantrums, mentally ill people throw tantrums, adults throw tantrums (I mean, my god, look at all the videos of Karens having screaming meltdowns - screaming! - over having to wear masks in order to shop at stores). Humans throw tantrums. And usually, after the feelings have been let out and the tantrum has passed, humans feel pretty regretful and awkward and embarrassed about whatever they did and said in the midst of their meltdown. 

I get all of that and agree it's valid and that Loki probably feels it. By the time Ragnarok happens, Loki's had some time to reflect and think hmm, yeah, probably could've handled that one a lot better. The argument further goes that in order to navigate this awkward period, Loki must come to terms with what he's done, acknowledge that some things can't be unsaid or undone, and begin to make amends. Supposedly, some people feel that Loki becomes a better person because he does "own" everything he did wrong and, even though he feels like a jackass (paraphrasing), he sets that aside to become a become a better person by choosing to help Thor and Asgard at the end. 

Thus, the overall arc goes like this. Loki, Thor's jealous little brother, 

throws a tantrum of epic proportions bc Reasons 

continues to act badly and make things even worse (Avengers) 

has to face consequences for his actions (prison sentence) 

ends up with a stretch of time in which he's free to contemplate and chill out 

feels embarrassed and awkward about how he's behaved

sees an opportunity to make up for it and decides to take it 

helps Thor, saves the day, and ends the film a better person. 

Redemption achieved.

None of this is wrong. The film supports it. It's a fair interpretation. But it leaves. out. so. much.

To circle all the way back around Loki being "a clenched fist with hair," and his actions stemming from his self-hatred, you have to ask - how did he get that way? He didn't end up with all this self-hatred on accident. Generally, one isn't born despising themselves, it's a learned behavior. (I realize chemical imbalances are a thing, obviously, as I have Mental Shit myself, but for argument's sake I'm assuming that's not the case with Loki [at this point in time]). 

Where did Loki learn it? From his family, from his surroundings, from his culture. We see examples of these microaggressions in the first, like, twenty minutes of the movie - a guard openly laughs at Loki's magic after Thor makes a joke about it (the tone of the conversation implies that Thor "jokes" like this often) and though Loki does the snake thing, the guard faces no real consequences. Thor doesn't acknowledge that anything went amiss. Not much later, on their way to Jotunheim, Loki's barely gotten two words out to Heimdall before Thor cuts him off, steps in front of him, and takes charge. Loki doesn't look annoyed at this; he looks resigned. 

Then, for absolutely no reason at all, Volstagg decides to make a jab at Loki ("silver tongue turned to lead?") just because he can. The ease with which he makes this comment and the way that no one else blinks an eye at it implies that this isn't out of the norm. And Loki doesn't react, not really. In the deleted version, he delivers a particularly nasty comeback but he delivers it under his breath, without intending Volstagg to hear it. In the final version, he simply says nothing, though his expression can be read as hurt or stung. Either way, the audience sees an example of Loki being walked all over by Thor and his friends and bottling up his reactions instead of standing up for himself. 

Microaggressions matter. They are mentally and emotionally damaging. They hurt. The implication that this is not unusual treatment for Loki means that Loki's probably gone through this for most of his life. It's like the equivalent of being, I don't know, twenty two and you're the friend who has to walk behind the others when the sidewalk isn't wide enough, and it's been that way since the first day of kindergarten. At this point, you're used to it, but that doesn't make it hurt any less when the jabs come seemingly out of nowhere, for no reason other than to make you feel bad.

(I personally identify a lot with this bc I experienced passive bullying in social settings for years. I was the 'doesn't fit on the sidewalk' friend; I hung around with people who'd pretend to be my friend and would be more or less nice to my face, but would laugh at me and make fun of me behind my back for whatever reasons. And often there'd be the random jabs at me, things that would come out of nowhere to smack me in the face, followed by the fake laugh and “just kidding!" so that I couldn't even get upset without being made to feel like I was overreacting and couldn't take a joke. I'd deal with this socially, particularly in middle school when girls are their most vicious, and then I'd go home and, because I was the only girl with a lot of brothers and because boys are mean and because I am who I am, the dynamic was that my brothers would just endlessly roast me to my face and sometimes it was a "just kidding!" thing, where I was the only one not laughing. But that’s beside the point; my point is that microaggressions, passive bullying, and consistent invalidation are harmful and that shit stays with you into adulthood.) 

So, yes, Loki needs to be held responsible for his misdeeds, and it's valid to say that he recognizes those misdeeds and wants to make amends. I have never disagreed with that. But the problem with this interpretation is that it lets every single other character who contributed to Loki's self-hatred and mental breakdown (let's just call a spade a spade here, that's what it was; he was broken psychologically) get off scot-free.

First of all,

Odin is not held accountable for instilling in the princes a mentality of Asgard first, everyone is beneath us but Jotuns are benath us the most, they are literal monsters. He is not held accountable for pitting his sons against one another (even if it was unintentional, he still did it) with "you were both born to be kings but only one of you can rule" being the general tone of their upbringing. He's not held accountable for his favoritism toward Thor.

Frigga is not held accountable for deferring to Odin both in supporting the above things and in keeping the truth of Loki's origins a secret while doing nothing to discourage the "monsters" narrative. 

Thor is not held accountable for his own tendency of taking Loki for granted (he assumes Loki will come to Jotunheim, he oversteps Loki constantly, “know your place,” etc.. He grants his implicit permission for Loki to be treated as the sidewalk friend in their “group,” a group which is loyal to and takes their cues from Thor as Thor continues to do nothing in his brother's defense).

[Note: Wanting Thor to be held accountable for things he's done wrong isn't vilifying him. Acknowledging that Thor benefited from Odin's favoritism and his own place as Crown Prince doesn't negate Thor also being raised in an abusive environment. I don't think anyone's saying that or, if they have, it's not something I agree with.]

Furthermore, 

Odin is not held accountable for his cruelty in disowning Loki (”your birthright was to die” is never going to be forgotten, speaking of people saying things that can't be unsaid or taken back) and in sentencing Loki to a severe prison sentence (life! only bc Frigga wouldn't let him execute Loki) for crimes that are no worse than what Odin himself has committed (around which the entire plot of Ragnarok revolves! Colonialism (and subjugation) is wrong is, like, a major theme [that people rush to praise, even] here). 

Thor is also never held accountable for not trying harder to understand what made Loki snap (fair enough, he didn't have a ton of time after returning from Earth, but certainly he had lots of time to sit around reflecting while Loki was being tortured by Thanos for a year). He knows Loki is "not himself" and "beyond reason" and accepts it at face value; he questions it once and then lets it go. He's fine with assuming Loki's just lost his mind, and isn't that a shame. (I realize I'm simplifying Thor's emotions but my point is that Thor could've tried harder to figure out that Loki was being influenced and/or not acting completely autonomously.) 

Thor is also never held accountable for - if not facing consequences for his own slaughter of Jotuns - then at least addressing why Loki can't kill an entire race even though Thor tried to do that, like, two days ago. (Granted, it’s difficult to understand how Thor got from Point A ("let's finish them together, Father!") to Point B (this is wrong!), but that failing belongs to Thor 1 (which is not, by the way, a perfect movie).

The interpretation that Loki is fully redeemed because he took responsibility for his actions, returned to Asgard, and allied himself with Thor to save their people is all well and good - but, why is Loki the only one here who has to take responsibility for their actions? 

What about all the loose threads in his story? 

For example, how did he get from: 

Point A (believing himself a literal monster, having a complete mental breakdown, getting tortured and further traumatized after that, etc) 

to 

Point B (Hey, yknow what would be fun? I'm going to write and direct a play about how I heroically died to save Thor and Jane, and I'll go ahead and have Odin say he accepts me and has always loved me. I'm going to do these things because Odin never said this in real life and instead of acknowledging my sacrifice, Thor left my body in the dirt, so someone has to validate what I've done right and that someone might as well be me. And hey, while I'm at it, I'm going to control the narrative on revealing myself as Jotun to Asgard, instead of living in fear of it being found out, and I'm going to do it in a way that they have to sympathize with me and revere me in death, bc they never bothered to do so when I was alive. And Matt Damon should play me, also.) 

to 

Point C (Yeah, I guess I feel kinda awkward about that whole tantrum thing, also I should help Thor and support him being king.)

? 

The answers to these questions are handwaved and the audience takes that to mean they don't matter. Furthermore, framing Loki's redemption around an act of service (more or less) to Thor makes Loki's redemption about Thor. Does Loki make this decision for the sake of Thor and of Asgard, or does he make it for himself? It's not super clear to me, and I think arguments can be made for both. Which, again, is fine, but - whatever.

If we're going to collectively agree, as a fandom, that Loki is complex, that he's morally gray, that he's worthy of redemption and therefore arguably a good person who's done bad things, then why is it asking too much to have it acknowledged that Thor (also a good person who's done bad things) played a part in Loki's downfall and has shit to apologize for, too? Bc one can only assume the reason is that you're taking a very gray concept and making it black and white by saying Loki has to apologize and make amends because he is the villain, and Thor doesn't because he is the hero (and it's his movie). And it's lazy.

This is where the crux of the issue lands. There's more than one valid interpretation, yes. And no two people (or groups of people, or whatever) are going to consume and therefore interpret or analyze the source material in the same way. I think I saw a post recently about how studies have been done on this, in fact. But, there is a lot going on under the surface that tends to get overlooked when exploring Loki's redemption arc in Ragnarok, as far as I can see, and that’s why I don’t consider it satisfactory. 

[I did read similar arguments regarding other issues that are often debated ('debated'), like Loki's magic and/or being underpowered, whether or not Loki's betrayal of Thor was the natural outcome of the situation on Sakaar or not, whether Thor actually gets closure with Odin [if he does, how does he reconcile the father he's idolized with the imperialistic conqueror he's discovered? Why doesn't he hold Odin responsible for covering up Hela's existence and the threat of her return, especially as he knew he was nearing the end of his life? Is Thor's "I'm not as strong as you" meant to imply that he acknowledges those shortcomings of Odin's and that he's okay with them, or that he's just overlooking them, or is he not okay with them but didn't have the chance to get into it bc he was in the middle of battle? T'Challa confronted his father on his wrongdoings in Black Panther; could Thor not have had at least one line that was confrontational enough to establish where he stands as opposed to this gray middle? Can someone explain to me how any of this equates to Thor gaining closure? Please?) but obviously I'm not going to go into all of them (well, I tried not to), bc this mammoth post has gone on long enough (I may not even post this tbh)]

- but my overall point to this entire thing is that when I say I'm critical of Ragnarok bc it's flawed, that Loki's arc was neither complete nor satisfactory, that many things went unaddressed and, due to all of these things, I do not think Ragnarok is a very good movie nor a very cohesive movie, this is where I'm coming from. I have not seen anything to change my mind to the contrary. 

But I am not saying that anyone satisfied with it is wrong, or shouldn't have the interpretation that they do. I'm not vilifying Thor in order to lift Loki up, just acknowledging that Thor is arguably just as flawed as Loki without the stigma of being Designated Villain. I think a lot of these arguments get overlooked or dismissed, and that's fine, but it doesn't make the people who do engage with them hateful, or bitter, or trying to excuse Loki's crimes, or feeling like redemption means that Loki's crimes should be erased rather than reconciled. 

And sure, yes, perhaps we are expecting too much and exploring all of these themes (or wanting them explored) means that somehow we think it should be Loki's movie (we don't). Loki is a supporting character, but he's still a character. And the movie itself doesn't have to delve into all these things - no one's saying that. (At least, I'm not.) We just want acknowledgement, from the narrative, that this stuff was an Issue. 

This could have been accomplished with - 

Some dialogue closer to the novelization (and original script), like Thor and Loki both acknowledging the harm they've done one another and their kingdom due to their Feels.

 A single line of Thor confronting Odin, or even asking "Why?" 

A narrative acknowledgement that Odin did both Thor and Loki dirty (”I love you, my sons” isn't an apology, because it doesn't acknowledge either that there's been wrong-doing or express regret for having done the wrong in the first place). 

A little bit more nuance in the way Loki treats his own past (ie, instead of flippantly telling the story of his suicide attempt, maybe - if it must be flippant - talk about getting blasted in the face with Hawkeye's arrow or sailing through to Svartalfheim [And in that moment, I sang ta-daaaa!]) or whatever. 

I recognize that wanting full, in-depth exploration on all of these issues regarding a supporting character is probably too much to ask or expect - but, I also feel like, if you're going to be professionally writing a narrative (or rewriting/improvising, as it were), it's not too much to ask that a little more care be taken in regards to all of the layers that have contributed to said supporting character's downfall and subsequent redemption arc. I don't think that's an unreasonable thing to want. 

And maybe if there had been more nuance and continuity in how these things were portrayed on screen (ie, if TW had actually done as good a job as his stans think he did), the fandom wouldn't have divided and conquered itself over which "version" of the same character is more valid and whether or not the film did its best to close out a trilogy (not start a new one), to the point where everyone in this fandom space makes navigating it feel like walking through a minefield. 

But, I mean 

(Again, please don’t reblog if possible.) 

Edit: Okay to reblog. <3 

[nadisabug]

Pairing: Tanaka Ryuunosuke x fem! reader (pet name baby is used)

Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff

Warnings: slight implied panic attack (more of just a crying fit but I want to cover my bases)

Word Count: 1.4 k

Summary: You may have doubts and insecurities, but Ryu is always there to chase them away.

A/N: I hope you love it elek (and other tanaka stans) bc I love you mwah

Haikyuu Masterlist // Love Song Event Masterlist

You were laying in your bed, snuggled in the covers, waiting. Your phone was on your chest, screen black. You stared up at the ceiling, having nothing else better to do. 

Then your phone buzzed. 

You shot straight up, throwing your phone onto your legs. It hit one of your kneecaps, but you ignored the pain. You scrambled to pick it up and turned it on quickly.

You had one new message. 

You clicked on it eagerly and read it with warm eyes. 

Hey, baby! Just got out of practice and got my phone back! How r u????

You smiled. The coach had a no-phone rule during practice, so he made all of the students place their phones in a bucket before practice to collect after. It was probably a good idea because you had no doubt your amazing boyfriend would text you the whole time. 

You shot off a quick reply and waited. After a minute or two you laid back down in bed, but kept a hold of your phone. When it buzzed, a few moments later, you couldn’t help the smile on your face. A voice message.

You clicked play and let Ryu’s comforting voice fill your room. 

Ah, baby, couldn’t wait to hear my voice? Can’t blame ya, I’m- 

His voice cut off and a cacophony of male voices rose up.

You are revolting.

Yeah, why do you have to do this in the club room, Tanaka-senpai?!

We all know you have a girlfriend and we don’t quit rubbing it in!

You couldn’t help but giggle at their complaints. Tanaka’s voice cut back in then, much closer and softer.

Sorry baby, I’ll have to send one when I get out of the room, one sec.

The voice message ended. You quickly texted him that it was okay and that you could wait. So you did. About three minutes later, a world record for Ryu changing, your phone buzzed again. Another voice message. You pressed play.

Hey baby, I’m out now. Practice was rough, coach had us doing flying laps everytime we missed a receive. Of course, I didn’t have to do that many but the first years were dying haha. And then- Oh hey Kiyoko, one sec baby-

The message cut off. You frowned. Then you waited. As you did, thoughts began to swirl around in your head. Doubts and insecurities that you knew damn well weren’t founded but arose nonetheless. Then you got a text. 

Walking Kiyoko home, I’ll call you on my way home <3

You frowned but let it go, texting him your acknowledgement. 

Nothing's wrong / But when you're not in my arms  / I send voice notes, you send hearts / And get quiet / And I know that means you miss me

Your friend was droning on and on about some class but all you could see was her. 

She was standing in the courtyard outside your classroom window. She wasn’t even talking to him, just some peers from her classroom, but those evil thoughts bubbled to the surface. 

What if Ryu likes her more than me? What if he doesn’t love me? What if he doesn’t want me-

“Hello?” Your friend called and waved their hand in front of you. You snapped out of your thoughts and turned to them. “You alright, Y/n?”

“Yeah,” you looked back at Kiyoko. She was gone. “I’m fine.”

You're jealous, you shouldn't be / I want you obsessively / But I know how complicated it can get

“I can bring it to him.”

Kiyoko was smiling softly, beautifully at you. 

You had made a bento for Ryu because he had texted you that this practice was going to be long. He had complained that he forgot to pack a dinner and was going to starve to death (always the drama queen) so you had taken it upon yourself to remedy your boyfriend’s problem. 

But now here Kiyoko was. 

“Are you sure, I mean-”

“There’s a lot of balls flying around in there, L/n. I wouldn’t want you getting hurt.”

She said it so genuinely. There was no trace of deceit in her words, and the fact that you were looking for it made your stomach churn. 

“Yeah of course. Thanks.”

And you handed her the bento.

When you're not in front of me / I know insecurities / Get in your head

You were walking home when you heard a familiar voice call your name. You turned around to see your boyfriend. 

“Ryu!” You smiled, then frowned. “Don’t you have practice?”

“I do,” he grinned and pulled you into a hug. You fell into his embrace with a sigh. “But I’m skipping it for you.”

You pulled away immediately and swatted him on the arm. “Ryu! Don’t skip practice! You better get your ass to that gym before I-”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m not actually skipping, I just thought it would sound cool,” Ryu pouted adorably. Your anger faded away and you sighed. 

“So what happened?”

“The first years are having special practice to give us a small break. I gotta be back in thirty minutes.”

“Then let’s get going.”

You walked in silence with him for a bit before he spoke up. 

“I actually asked for thirty minutes,” he confessed, rubbing the back of his neck. You turned to look at him. 

“Why?”

“I felt like something was off with you so I wanted to talk.”

The thoughtfulness in that statement took you back. He was so worried about you that he asked for time off to talk right away? You shook your head. Nothing less from Ryu. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” you lied. 

“Baby,” Ryu said softly, reaching out to touch you. You let him grab your hand.

I sighed. “I guess I’m just worried.”

“Worried about what?”

“That you won’t love me anymore.”

“Why would you think that? Wanna talk about it?”

You thought for a moment then nodded. “Yeah. And because, there are so many other girls so much prettier than I am and better and I don’t know I am just insecure.”

“Okay,” Ryu nodded. “But I want you to know I think that’s all bullshit. There is no one in this world better than you, baby.”

You smiled at him. “Thank you.”

But I'm not gonna interrupt / If you need to talk about it / Roll my eyes or get offended by / The way you doubt it

You were losing it. 

Crying, sobbing, hiccuping, you name it. 

Your insecurities had just gotten the better of you. All you could think about was how unworthy of love you were, and how Ryu was going to leave you for the obviously better Kiyoko. 

You weren’t sure how long you were crying, but it was a while. After you had calmed down a bit, your phone rang. You picked it up, thinking you were probably good enough to talk. 

“Hey baby, just got out of practice and I am walking home. How was your day?” Ryu’s warm voice poured out of the speaker, tipping you over the edge once more. 

“G-good,” you sniffled. You cursed yourself. Could you make it anymore obvious you had been crying?

“Are you crying?! Baby I’m on my way right now.” You heard his footsteps pick up.

“No, no, it’s okay I am fine now-”

“Is it about what we talked about earlier?” Ryu almost never cut you off, but this time he did. You knew he was serious and lying was going to get you nowhere. 

“Yes.” Your voice was soft. 

“Okay. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Then he hung up.

You know you're mine / You just forget sometimes / So promise me you won't

Ryu burst into your room. You knew that your parents would have no problem letting him in. ALl you did was look up at him from the ball you were curled into under the blankets. You lifted one arm in invitation and he rushed to you. 

He dove under the covers and pulled you into his chest. 

And you know I'll remind you / When you think I don't

He pulled you closer into his embrace and whispered into your ear.

Hey stupid, I love you / Hey stupid, I love you

Taglist: {OPEN}

@snoozless, @levylovegood, @tanakas-hugs-and-kisses, @dv0412, @milktyama, @kokogxddess​, @keshastourbus​, @elektrosonix​

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[hesther-mcg]

chained  

➥ pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

➥ summary: the one where two people are chained to one another, hopelessly in love but every bit of wrong for one another

➥ rating: angst, song fic, biker!bucky au 

➥ warnings: explicit language, mentions of toxic relationship 

➥ a/n: happy valentines day! in the name of irony i’m going to post this today, bc i can. this has been rattling around in my noggin for a bit now and i actually rlly like this. i hope u do too. i highly recommend listening to the song while reading, its also available on spotify. 

chained :: elle king ft. cameron neal  chained  marvel m. list

We can run away, but we can’t hide for long 

And all that lingers harms us 

She’d tried it—moving houses, running away from the problems she was used to, changing things. She’d already tried it, and it had worked beautifully at first. The high of being in a new place, a place all to themselves, it was wonderful. And it had brought out the man she had started to believe was gone, the man she’d loved for so many suns and so many moons; years of her life having been spent growing alongside him, and she felt nothing short of complete satisfaction. 

“Thanks for running away with me,” she’d whispered to him in the late hours of the night, head rested on his bare chest and his calloused hand running up and down over the delicate skin of her back.

“I’ll go wherever you want me to, babe,” was his promise, spoken softly into the dark with a tenderness reserved for her heart and ears only. 

But all good things came to an end, and her life had brought truth to that statement. Things settled, routines came back and everything that lingered became visible. The issues that remained, the unspoken anger and unresolved conflicts rearing their ugly heads once again. She’d tried to pack up her life and her love and run away, but she was learning that she couldn’t hide for long. 

I can lie to you, but the truth comes alive

Every time I die saying goodbye

Everything was a slow progression, the honeymoon phase wearing off slowly but surely; the conflicts creeping in where they weren’t welcomed. Again, everything was fine at first, they seemed to move as a team and it filled her heart with a warmth almost indescribable—they were so much of the same mind, in her eyes. 

But then things drifted off course, the scales tipped in every which way except balanced—right where she wanted, and irritation grew to be the default when she saw his hands reach for the motorcycle keys. Betrayal became the default when she looked away from him and nodded her head, giving a flat and unconvincing ‘I’m okay,’ or ‘have fun.’ Hurt became the default when she bit her tongue until her mouth filled with the taste of crimson copper and her sobs shook her entire body, the sound of a roaring motorcycle engine filling the house. 

She could lie, but he always knew. They had their problems, they battled through their conflicts, but they were still positive and negative forces magnetically pulling the other closer, two links in a chain stuck together for eternity. 

Cause I don’t want to change

but I can’t stay this way

Love was a lot of things; sometimes she thought of it as something warm and familiar and safe, and other times she was convinced it was the chain that kept her around. She loved him, god damnit did she love James Barnes, but she knew that she was nearing her limit. Her heart could only take so much before she’d lose herself completely, and then she was done for beyond that point. Forever damaged; irreparable. 

When Y/N thought about a life where she was on her own, miles upon miles away from the man she only wanted love and comfort from, her chest felt similar to how she imagined a sinkhole made the earth feel. The memories they shared, the laughs and the cries and the endless fun, it would forever haunt her if she were to leave—but one could argue that they already haunted her, already plagued her thoughts and dreams and every second she was breathing. 

“What do you want?!” He’d screamed when she’d brought up her concerns, arms raised in the air and brows furrowed. 

“Things can’t stay this way, James,” she’d stressed, fingers knotting her hair as they frantically ran through the strands. 

And I don’t even mind staying chained, and thinking of you

Thinking of you 

“What if I don’t wanna change?” 

The breath had caught in her throat at his words, heart sinking to the pits of her stomach as her teary eyes bore into his, his figure blurry but radiating frustration. 

“Then I’ll leave,” she threatened, the words burning her mouth as she spoke them. “I love you but I won’t let that stop me.” 

But she always did—when he crawled into bed with slow movements and gentle hands, words soft, sweet, and oh so guilty. Apologies and false promises, admissions of love and sweet nothings, it mended her heart for the time being and she remained in the same place. 

Is it up to me?

It’s always been up to you to find the peace we needed to 

Strength had been dwindling, strength to fight for a relationship immersed in chaos. When things blew up, when the road grew rocky and dangerous and sometimes even lethal, it’d always been her to struggle putting the pieces back together. His words of affirmation and endless charm was the glue that only temporarily mended the cracks, but it was her will and her strive that got them there in the end. 

Strength was dwindling, and she was starting to give up. “It’s always been up to me, James,” she’d told him, voice quiet, scratchy, and broken. “It’s always been me, but it’s on you now.” 

He hadn’t responded, lips slightly parted as he took in the way that she didn’t even bother looking at him. He knew he’d been digging a grave, and he was starting to see that eventually he’d have to lie in it if he didn’t straighten up. The problems in their lives, in both him and her, they were deeply rooted and while she’d been trying to hack away at them, he’d only been watering them. 

Is it said and done, is it carved in the stone? 

How many days is it gonna take ‘til we get back home? 

Most days, he did nothing but convince her that their fate was sealed—that their ultimate demise on the horizon and refused to move for anything. She’d tried and tried to tell herself that that wasn’t the truth, exalted all resources willing into existence the fact that they were meant to be—stuck together for the trials and tribulations that life undoubtedly bring them. 

Things could change, and perhaps they would; nothing was said and done for them because only Y/N could write her story and only she could choose her ending. 

But the harder she held on, the longer the path seemed to be. If what they had was a journey through struggle and strife, then the journey seemed years and years long—an endless battle to just make it through the days to even see the end of the road, and it more often than not left her wondering how long it would take before they would make it back home. How long would it be before they returned to where they started—sickeningly sweet, head over heels in love and willing to do anything under the sun for one another. 

Cause I don’t want to change

But I can’t stay this way 

If this was what growth was, then she wished someone had told her of how painful it was. It felt like scratchy throats from screaming matches, aching chests from nights spent clawing away at the burning skin, and so many more things that weren’t even worth listing. The point of it was that she was finally reaching the point where the door was opening, creaking slowly and revealing the outside world where she could escape.

Y/N didn’t want to escape, but she was starting to see that maybe it was what she needed to do. At one point she had loved her life because he had made the sun shine brighter every day and the stars twinkle a little more each night, and while she longed for that version of James he was not anywhere in sight—and hadn’t been for a long time. 

She knew she couldn’t stay this way, she knew it and felt like a complete idiot every time she saw her own reflection, but, much like the aforementioned growth, this change was just as painful. And pain was something she’d felt enough of. 

And I don’t even mind staying chained, and thinking of you

Thinking of you

The doors had all been slammed, every single one had the unfortunate fate of being in the path of an angry James, and a few of them hadn’t survived and refused to close completely. 

“Why do you want to leave so bad, huh? If you don’t wanna be here then just fucking leave!” The emotional torment was clear as day in his voice as he screamed to the top of his lungs, and it tore her heart to shreds. 

“You know damn well why!” She’d shouted back, face beet red as her chest violently heaved. “I don’t fucking deserve this, Buck, and I’m sick and tired of it!” Her nerves buzzed under the surface of her skin and she could feel her pulse in her face, and the man before her only stared back with dark eyes. 

“You won’t change,” she’d sobbed. “You won’t and you know it, and if you loved me you would.” 

“Y/N—” he’d started, taking a step forward but she’d held her hands out, pushing herself against the wall to get further away. 

“No.” Her words were shaky yet void of fear; actually, James could hear the grit that she’d developed after dealing with his shit for so long and he felt his chest cave in slightly. “You stay there and you listen to me.” 

Will you wake me up? Will you shake me up?

Cause I’m losing my way in the game 

The cracks and creases on her heart deepened greatly, and when they did so she felt every bit of it. The way his eyes bore into hers, as if he was searching her soul like he’d done so many times before, made her look away—for this time she couldn’t trust him to search with good intentions. 

“I’ve tried for a long time to make this work, and you can’t tell me you don’t see it. You’re not stupid, James; don’t pretend to be.” She’d shook her head with her last statement, hair going every which way and tears almost filled his eyes because she was right. “But it wont work if something doesn’t give and I’ve given enough!” 

He nodded lamely, because that’s all he could think to do. He knew she didn’t want his words, they didn’t matter right now. 

“Are you even serious about this? About us? You know this isn’t a joke, this is MY life! It goes way beyond just you and your issues and your anger,” her arms waved around in the air. “James, I’m losing myself in this and you’re supposed to save me!” 

The tears did fill his eyes then, stinging the blue orbs and causing him to blink rapidly. He felt like shit, and every bone in his body ached with guilt. 

Even at our best, my love 

Neither one of us was ever really good enough 

The realization that some things truly weren’t meant to be, that some people really weren’t meant to be together, was a tough pill to swallow. Y/N felt herself choke on it multiple times throughout the years, but it was finally down and done with. She couldn’t say if they were never meant to meet, or just never meant to stay together, but either way she knew that they were a recipe for disaster. 

Her chemicals and his mixed together didn’t make the love that lasted a lifetime, the kind that made it through the dark and the light of the rocky road through life. They made poison, a stunning and paralyzing formula of toxic traits and deep rooted issues. They weren’t a match; even at their best they were never compatible—just too blind and in love to see it. 

“I don’t know why I can’t change, and I will always stay this way,” she sang softly, her heartbreak shining through under the bright lights of the stage in a bar miles and miles away from the man she loved. The band behind her kept up well, putting the raw emotion behind every beat and note that this song required, and for that she was grateful. It was a slight break in the constant dull that she felt, a break that she was beginning to believe she wouldn’t see in her lifetime. 

“And I don’t even mind staying chained,” the drawl in her voice was nothing short of old soul and broken dreams, and it wouldn’t have fit in anywhere other than the rundown bar filled with folks of a similar kind. She’d worn heartache daily long before she walked away from that house, but now it never seemed to wipe off. It was never ending, and so was the thought of him. She truly was chained to him, and sometimes in the middle of tear filled nights she told herself that he was still chained to her as well. “And thinking of you.” 

Thinking of you, thinking of you, thinking of you. 

➥ send as ask to be added to the bucky tag list! 

[stonerbughead]

Maria watches friday night lights (#17)

wow 4x06 was such a rollercoaster ride! Here we go:

Okay this Matt and Julie scene with the two of them making out in the car demonstrates so much about why I love them —tho I’ve surmised there will be more trouble ahead before they get their happy ending. Julie remembers she has something to tell him; they banter about her being pregnant with twin aliens; and then she tells him she’d been meaning to surprise him with tickets to a music festival in Austin before his dad’s untimely death but is totally cool with not going if he doesn’t want to??? It’s like ugh these two are so cute and care so deeply for each other my heart 🥰😭 “The chapter said that when your dad dies, you should probably most likely go to a music festival.”

the rest of my flailing under the cut:

Omgggg that assistant coach who annoyed me earlier in the season is back with a vengeance making wild claims they can’t hold up ON CAMERA I am Eric Taylor in this scene

Damn I’ve always loved Tim and Lyla — I mean especially in season 3 and OOOOOH boy this reunion banter and make out sesh into Tim’s trailer had me fanning myself! super predictable when Lyla comes to see Tim at his TRAILER on “midterm break” but no less hot!

Oh shit Matt and his grandma got $$$ from the military? He gotta go to art school now, bish!

“I don’t understand why people keep asking me why I’m okay, I’m fine.” Honestly my partner started getting annoyed by people in this way after his dad died too, grief is WEIRD and hard!

I love watching a teen show where just taking off for a music festival for two days with her long term boyfriend is the big scandal.

Omg Landry you’re still talking about Tyra to Jess?! Stop doing this, bro! Lol Jess slaps him in the face right after I typed that. nice.

Lyla and Tim’s chemistry is still off the charts!!!!

Yeeeeesh that Becky and Lyla introduction was pretty yikes

Lol I love the assistant coach being tight-lipped with the reporters now re: the lions’ “guaranteed win.” did Eric chew him out lol

More in This Is That Shit I Like: Matt and Julie eating sandwiches on their car roof on the side of the road talking about how romantic it is! “Good sandwiches I put my heart and soul into.” Cutiessss but also sings to Saracen: ~you must deal with your grief, babe~

Jess’s relationship with Vince intrigues me. And I love the introduction of Jess’s dad’s bbq joint as another watering hole in East Dillon.

Becky, yikes, don’t go off on Luke, he was being so cute and respectful! Also he is much more age-appropriate than Tim and you are letting out your anger about your unrequited Riggins feelings on poor Luke!!! (Forreal am I supposed to like Becky? I have mixed feelings.)

baby Grace yelling “uh oh” as Tami leaves an angry voicemail for Julie lol

“Show them your ring, Tim.” Wow okay never change Billy Riggins (jk you should def change a lot of things)

“I think she asked me what it was like being pregnant.” Yes go off, Mindy, and Billy, don’t speak for your wife!! Lol Lyla’s gonna ride the bull? I love that Lyla and Mindy eventually got along.

awww Tim is so still in love with her, my heart! “You missed me.” “You had no idea.” Swoon

Omg this Becky and Lyla convo broke my heart and was super uncomfortable. Becky legit said, “You’re so lucky. You’re super pretty.” What does one say to that? Silently walking away with an awkward smile is all I could manage too, Lyla 🙈🤦🏻‍♀️

Are the panthers making fun of East Dillon players for watching game tape in Sears? Their blatant classism is gross, Oh wow, assistant coach finally steps up, nice! also obligatory fuck JD McCoy

Back to back Matt and Julie dancing in their hotel room and Tim and Lyla bedroom scene “thanks for coming back” “you’re welcome” my heart (you know the angst is coming but I love the soft moments we get first)

Awww vince’s mom wants to come to the game clean 🥺

Tami being unable to think about anything but Julie and not knowing where she is makes so much sense!! (oldest child vibe is reallll here) but damn she’ll have a rough transition if Julie goes away to school

Oh no Tim thinks Lyla will stay in Dillon baby noooo

“I know but I hate it, i don’t want her to go.” Oh Tami it’s so hard 🥺

WOW did not realize Matt didn’t know Julie wasn’t allowed to go to Austin until Landry called. It’s really cute that the reason saracen’s upset is bc he wants Eric and Tami to like him and that was not cool of Julie, at least let him decide if he wants to break the rules too!

Aw fuck there it is, what’s been bubbling under the surface all season: “the responsibility of having to stay in Dillon.”

Omg Vince’s mom actually showed up!!!

Oh whaatttttt they’re all sad they lost? Don’t be, babes! This is a sick underdog moment, y’all put up a fight against a team you thought was gonna slaughter you!!!

Gotta love the early 2000s indie band appearance concert trope!!! although yikes this fight, Julie desperately screaming “I love you” as the band plays!

Tim with the forehead kiss for Lyla at the bus stop fuck me up

Ohhh the thematic “stay” theme for both Tim/Lyla and Matt/Julie is just so *chef’s kiss* this show is a gift

“It was nice just to get away with you.” “I love you Julie.” “I love you Mattie.” Feels like a goodbye, man. Like they both know it’s not working right now by circumstance even tho they love each other 😭🥺

Julie breaking the fuck down when she gets inside yepppp! “I think he’s leaving” ME TOO 😭

Tami immediately putting her head on Julie’s shoulder is that good mom shit even tho she’s def gonna ground Julie’s ass later lol

“Do you have a broken heart?” “Was she the love of your life?” Why does Becky talk like the cringey Riverdale writers. I hope people won’t throw things at me but Becky annoys me and her soulmate speech is a stretch

“Becky.” “Yeah?” “Shut up. Please.” Lmao same tim 😂

Oh shit Matt issss leaving damnnnn! Dramatic Trauma Rama! feat pretty footage of matt driving away

BRING ON THE ANGST

[roominthecastle]

post--“620″ ramblings about stuff & things

so 620 picks up one week after the succulent goose incident. Despite those 7 days, our Red remains as angry and hurt as he was before (if not more), which is our first key point. “I can neither kill... nor trust... nor forgive.” It’s quite an unsettling thing to hear, to say the least, and Liz, unsettled, immediately counters w/ “You forgave Dembe.” This Liz vs Dembe thread that’s been earnestly pulled on since 618 gives us the second key. It reaches all the way back to the first episode of this season where it gets established why such a comparison is not working as an argument: “That’s different.”

In both 620 and 601 we have a moment where Liz and Red try to drag poor Dembe in between them as an “example” to deflect pressure, but each immediately rejects this stunt bc they both know that the nature of their relationship is different. The forgiveness of a parent (figure) is not forthcoming for Liz bc Red’s feelings for her are not really those of a parent. This exact issue emerged after her faked death, too, and Bokenkamp touched upon Red’s point of view already, i.e. how the parent figure would have to forgive but the romantic partner is, in fact, conflicted [x]. But I’ve already written a longer piece on this duality, so I won’t get into it here.

And Red’s been struggling. He is heartbroken again and not as a parent. A parent’s heartbreak is equated to “being impaled by a unicorn” and -- still barred from being in her life -- it’s little Agnes whom Red watches riding a unicorn on the carousel. :)

With Liz, Red is suffering through something else that 100% parallels what Liz went through w/ Tom re, love, betrayal, and forgiveness. She was in limbo where she couldn’t kill, she couldn’t trust, she couldn’t forgive. She lost control and cold fury was the only way to get some of it back. And then she gave in to hope and “forgave every lie and believed every promise” only to get betrayed again. Red describes his predicament the same way: she “has lied and deceived me and I've forgiven her every time” and “I knew but I let my hopes convince me that she wouldn’t betray me.” This ties straight back to the idea of being in love == being rendered powerless, which is part of a larger quote from James about self-deception vs true romantic love. Part of this had a cameo in S2 and another is echoed at the end of this episode (the greeting card bit).

The topic of appearance vs truth is the third key that slides neatly into the broader question of Red’s identity. We have two important scenes that poke this issue:

one w/ Ressler when he questions Dom’s story and Liz’s willingness to gloss over the holes to preserve a neat surface appearance: “But is it the truth? Does it make sense that this is the answer?”

and the other is w/ torture master Teddy who points out how Red lives a charade: “The code's like the suit and the hat. You feel good wearing it. Look good, too. Million bucks. But, and I gotta think deep down you know this, it's like lipstick on a pig. It can cover a lotta sins. End of the day, it's still trayf.”

and all this nicely echoes Dom’s words from the previous episode (the “architect of this charade” who’s “stepping into the lie”) and the way Red kicks off the whole show in 101: “Everything about me is a lie.”

Red wears a disguise, is the point. “Raymond Reddington” is a lie he’s been inhabiting for a yet to be fully uncovered purpose. But ever since he met Liz, he’s been longing to break from this. It’s clearly expressed in all those emotional moments he shares w/ her, e.g.:

“I haven't been home in years. But if anyone can give me a second chance, it's you.”

“Sailors have been navigating by the stars for thousands of years. Odysseus spent a decade at war. But his biggest battle was finding his way home. That's Polaris, the North Star. That's how sailors used to find their way home. When I look at you, that's what I see. I see my way home.”

“It may be hard for you to imagine, but I once had a relatively normal life... bills to pay, play dates, family, some friends, people to care about. Lost all that. // Lost how? // In Mexico, there are these fish that have colonized the freshwater caves along Sierra del Abra. They were lost. They found themselves living in complete darkness. But they didn't die. Instead, they thrived. They adapted. They lost their pigmentation, their sight, eventually even their eyes. With survival, they became... hideous. I've rarely thought about what I once... was. But I wonder...if a ray of light were to make it into the cave, would I be able to see it? Or feel it? Would I gravitate to its warmth? And if I did, would I become... less hideous?”

When Red looks at Liz and Agnes, the deep longing for that past self w/ a wife and daughter stirs in him. It surfaces when she tells him her simple yet distant dream of walking in the park w/ her husband and daughter. They want the exact same thing. This is consistent throughout the seasons. He’s been gently signaling this to her and she’s been fleeing from it bc he is just... too much and the idea of him in that role in her life is an attractive yet scary image (see her steamy dream of him in S2 that blends sensuality and dread as Red, having murdered her husband, stalks up to her bed asking what she really wants).

Red’s anger as a way to reestablish a semblance of soothing control and Liz’s refusal to face the truth to protect herself are what we have in that last scene in 620. “father figure” is a buffer zone, always has been, it’s part of the charade Red lives while wearing Reddington’s identity. Despite having pushed for the truth, she is now trying to lock him into this lie, telling him that that’s what he will always be. And if you keep in mind those quotes above that show how Red longs for a past life around her, then you can see how her words likely inflict more pain.

This brings another quote from Red to mind:

“You said something before. The truth doesn’t matter, that the only thing in this world that matters is just the appearance of truth. I fear you might be right about that. Lately I find that the truth has become… so elusive. Often imaginary. But in the end, it’s all that we’re left with, isn’t it? What is real, what you can taste and touch and feel. The words that pass between us as we look each other in the eye are… all we have to hold on to. The truth. I hold it dear.”

In their first scene where Liz talks about finally having the opportunity to be completely honest w/ each other, they sit face to face. And then promptly dance back from it all, esp Red. Then she soon admits to Ressler that she might be closing her eyes to the whole truth to keep things simple, safe and "sweet”. And so in their last scene, there is no eye contact at all as she tells Red that it doesn’t matter who he once was (never mind that months ago she was willing to put him in jail to find out) bc this fake identity is who he is and who he will always be, which apparently dictates that he must play father and grandfather.

The sheer arrogance and presumptuousness of this statement are already begging for a strong rebuttal but it also nicely reflects Liz’s tendency to make things about herself while brushing aside how others might feel or think. She did this w/ Tom when she refused to see who he really was and tried to convince herself he’d changed. And she does this to Ressler, too, when she tells him she knows he did everything bc he thought it was what was best for her, never mind that that was not Ressler’s motivation at all and he, in fact, said that to her already. Her last scene w/ Red has this vibe to it.

The fact that Agnes is part of this park scene is no coincidence, imo. Red is not comfortable w/ playing Liz’s dad. If he were, he wouldn’t have denied being her dad when she asked him in S1 (since wearing Reddington’s identity provides the wiggle room here), he wouldn’t have winced and cringed every time she referred to him as “father” in S5, and he wouldn’t have had the same reaction at the end of 620, either. He doesn’t embrace it, he doesn’t like it, he just endures it. There was a (sadly discarded) line back in S1/S2 about how he would be willing to play any role she wanted him to play but I believe something has changed since then. Even back in 102, he enthusiastically offers her the role of girlfriend and when she refuses, he flatly tells her that she can play daughter then. The preference on his part seems consistent but it will always be up to Liz to give the green light. Or the red one.

He wants to be a father to Agnes and he’s already confessed it in 319 (“I would give anything to be a part of that child's life... hold her... watch her grow.”). And the only time during the park scene when we can see the cold tension melt off him is when he sees the little girl. And when he hears Liz’s decision to bring Agnes home, his stony demeanor crumbles completely.

This is also where another part of that quote from James mentioned above seeps into the dialog: when Red remarks that Liz’s code is not a code but a greeting card -- confused, self-deceiving bullshit (just like Teddy called his code part of a charade designed to hide the scary truth). They are still not being honest w/ each other, they don’t look each other in the eye, they are still dancing around the actual truth at the core of their relationship. Red is deeply hurt, all his hopes seemingly dashed, which drives him to clam up even more and detach to mitigate the pain. He can’t kill but he can try and kill his true feelings for her, I suppose. And Liz is still afraid to face what it is exactly that fuels his intimate commitment to her, so she draws a line in the sand, declaring it permanent. But...

“You know the problem with drawing lines in the sand? With a breath of air, they disappear.”

James stated -- while talking about TBL -- that he’s not interested in material that doesn’t have a romantic/sexual aspect to explore. He also said that he is fascinated by Red and Liz’s relationship, that Red’s feelings for her are strong, complex, and complicated, and that neither is sure of the true nature of their relationship.

so bottom line (to quote Ressler who’s fast becoming the only voice of reason now that Dembe left): Red locked in the surrogate parent role just bc he wears Reddington’s identity for a different, still mostly unknown purpose -- is it the truth? does it make sense that this is the answer?

nope.

And I think it’s interesting that Cooper was designated as a “spokesperson” when he is in the dark about what happened between Red and Liz: the one who is mostly in the dark speaks about a family bond but his assessment (of love, faith, commitment) could easily pass for a wedding vow, too. It’s nothing but fitting, imo.

This latest fallout created a huge fracture in the Red/Liz relationship and I don’t expect them to repair it in the 2 episodes we have left this season. But Agnes is back and I think she will be the glue for these two idiots in the long run, allowing them to slip into a family rhythm that could potentially coax some buried feelings to the surface -- feelings both are trying to ignore at the moment.

[spnfanficpond]

September 2019 Pond LiveChat Recap

We had a great time chatting with @manawhaat today! Thank you so much for joining us, even though you were busy!!

Today, a bunch of us got together and talked about inspiration and writer’s block! We all had good ideas that were discussed! A rundown of the chat, as well as general Pond news, is below the cut!

To start us off, Mana shared a link to this ask that was recently presented to the Pond. The question was that a professor said that there was no such thing as a muse or writer’s block. The answers given by some of our Big Fish are terrific! All seem to agree that the ideas of a muse and writer’s block are valid, no matter what you call them. Digging beneath the surface to ask what is causing the writer’s block or the inspiration can help to get you past what’s stopping you and get you writing, again.

@mrswhozeewhatsis (Michelle)shared a link to a tweet by Robbie Thompson. She had asked him for tips on getting inspired or getting past blocks when the words just don’t want to flow. He responded by saying, “write from emotion: what scares you, angers you, etc. and make writing a habit. sit down once a day, same time if you can & just get to work. got nothing? write until it comes. inspiration is great but not always reliable.”

When looking for ideas from other famously prolific writers, this post from Neil Gaiman came up. In it, Mr. Gaiman says that blaming writer’s block gives you something to blame, but it’s usually a combination of laziness, perfectionism and getting stuck. He goes on to encourage writers to not accept writer’s block as a insurmountable thing and figure out the cause so you can get past it.

@mostly-shawn (Maayan): My professor's take on writer's block is that writer's block doesn't exist because there's no such thing as "not knowing". What we call "writer's block" is simply being distracted by other things like shopping lists and to-do lists and everything else, so in order to overcome "writer's block" you just need to sit and write everything that's in your head and clear out your brain space to allow yourself access to the idea. And in terms of muse, she doesn't believe in muse because no work is perfect on the first draft and because it's not perfect, you can't have had a muse.

If anyone wants to read her book it's called "To Tell The Truth" and it's about how to write creative nonfiction. Obviously, that's not what we're all in the business of, but it's a good read for all genres.

Everyone seemed to agree that this professor has a strange view on muse, but she’s got a point about writer’s block. A muse can be anything that inspires you to write, and nothing anyone ever writes is perfect right out of the gate, so her perfection theory makes no sense to us. Mana disagreed with part of her thoughts on writer’s block, though.

Mana: I think she has a point of clearing your head in order to get into your 'writing groove' but insisting that there isn't such a thing as 'not knowing' sounds ridiculous to me, specifically, a person who has not known what she wanted to do with a certain rpf fic for over 4 years.

@katehuntington mentioned that sometimes she feels like she knows exactly what she wants to write, but when she sits down, the words just won’t come. She can’t get them down. Michelle said her Fibromyalgia sometimes causes similar cognitive difficulties. The words just aren’t there. (If anyone has read Rob Benedict’s chapter in Family Don’t End With Blood, the feeling is described there beautifully.) 

Michelle: Physical and mental issues can definitely affect creativity. When you're struggling to do the basic activities of daily living, creativity is not your body's priority.

Q: So, what do you guys do when you hit a block?

Kate: Accept it. LOL. I take a lot of inspiration out of what I've written already, if that makes sense. I revisit stories, go over what made those work. And I read back on the feedback I had from readers too. Those can be super inspiring.

Maayan: Yeah, I basically just say "alrighty then" and continue on with my life and push the work as far out of my head as possible.

Mana: Write some flaming garbage. (Michelle added, “Crap makes good compost.”) I get through as much as I can, plot wise. if I'm stuck between point b and c, but know where I'm going from point d to e then I just put down anything I might want to happen between point b and c and then move on. There is no rule that says writing needs to happen in a linear form so if I get stuck, I move on.

Michelle: I once heard Robbie Thompson talk about writing at a seminar, and he said that if he's really stuck, he'll take a walk, get outside, get some fresh air, clear his head. Just change his scenery, really. Did you know that when you move from one room to another, your brain kind of ties off the thought you had in the first room and opens up another thread in the second room? It's why so many people arrive in a room and then forget why they're there. (This is why carrying something from one room to the next can help you remember why you're in that second room.) Sometimes, that's what you need. Make your brain jump out of the rut it was in. Write in a different room, on a different medium (paper instead of tablet, tablet instead of computer, etc)

Mana: I haven't tried writing on a different medium, unless you count someone else's computer instead of your own, but the change of scenery does help. listening to different music instead of your usual tunes helps. 

Maayan: I think better when I pace so when if I'm trying to figure out a storyline I pace, but when I have the storyline but I can't make my fingers do the word thing on the magical typing box I'm just stuck for good usually. (A suggestion was made that she could try speech-to-text software to help her get past that!) Mana records voice notes to her phone to be transcribed later.

Kate and Michelle both said that having ideas isn’t the problem for them, most of the time. The problem is usually having the focus to sit down and translate them to paper.

Mana: Watching a movie you know well enough to tune in and out of is a big one for me. Literally any time I NEED to do something in my life, I put on Pride and Prejudice bc I know the film so well and love the score, but it's my ultimate focus movie. I can tune out and write or file taxes or whatever the fuck and tune back in for him to hold her hand helping her in the carriage and then tune back out and repeat this process while the movie plays 6 times in a row.

Michelle: I can't have anything else playing. No music, no TV, no nothing. However, I've discovered that a lava lamp does wonders! When we lived in our apartment in Chicago, I had a great view of the planes coming into O'Hare, and it was an east-facing view, so I saw the sunrise after a long night of writing so many times. My creativity dropped way down when we moved and I no longer had a view to stare at. So, I bought a glitter lava lamp. I love staring into that thing. And then I put up twinkling fairy lights over my desk. Something about that got me going, again. 

Maayan: I use my fish and snail as a lava lamp with the same effect.

Q: What do you do when you’re in the flow, and everything is going great, but you suddenly just stop? You know where you want to go, but you’re suddenly just stuck for no clear reason?

Michelle: I've discovered, and this may not be true for anyone else, but I've discovered that it usually means I've screwed up a little ways back. If I go back to where I last felt like everything was going well, and rethink everything I wrote since then, I've usually made a mistake in that section, and it needs to be rewritten. Whether I've made a character do something that's not in their character, or I've added something (or taken something away) that isn't right, whatever it is, it's in that section. If I just delete it and start writing from the previous good spot, I get going again.

Kate: Yeah. I've read somewhere that when you're stuck, you should go back at least 5 lines and start over. Put those lines away, pick it up again.

Mana: I think that's a big difference between us, Michelle. You can pinpoint a spot where things go awry and back up, cut off what isn't working and restart. I am a stubborn bitch so even if I see that something isn't really working, if I like it even the slightest bit, I refuse to get rid of it or change it. And those are the instances where I 'pick fights' with you and resist your input when you're beta reading for me. Am I the only one that does that? And if so, how are you all able to justify letting go of something that doesn't quite work but you've grown attached to?

Michelle: It’s perfectly okay to set bits aside and use them in other fics! Timestamps. Put it in another fic. Make it a one shot! I cut SO MUCH from Non-Trad, but I loved those parts SO MUCH, and that's how the Timestamps were born. They really didn't fit into the story well. They made it bloated. So I published them separately. Now, finding that I've gone off the rails entirely makes it easier for me to go back and get rid of something.

Q: Tips that we haven’t mentioned, yet?

Kate: Ask for help. Have a beta look it over, or whoever is interested and might be able to add to it.

Michelle: When looking for inspiration, always go back to the source material. It's not lazily, obsessively binge-watching the same show over and over, it's RESEARCH.

Mana: Someone asked what I do to get over it and I said: when I experience writer’s block or when the character I’m trying to write isn’t cooperating with me and I can’t get my brain to function I try to distract myself with something else or another character. Try watching an episode with your character in it, get a refreshed feel of how they move, talk, interact with other characters, draw from the episode or scenarios that you can fill in where the ep didn’t. Or, take ques from other characters, write about someone else for a bit so your mind has a break and time to sort itself out, then go back to what you were working on. 

Another way to get past it is to read other’s work. It may inspire you, make you realize that the story you wanted to tell this way can be told a different way, or give you the kick you need. 

My best answer to this: “If you’re going through hell, keep going.”

When the block hits and you have zero inspiration or motivation, write about anything and everything. Start reading and watching new things to see if it’ll spark something, check out Tumblr and users you don’t follow to get your eyes on some fresh content, write a dramatic scene of you sitting on the couch to hear the doorbell ring and let the suspense grow until you open it to find a pizza man there when you specifically did not order a pizza. Writing through it may spark something, and if not, my best suggestion would be to read. Read your old stuff and that of others, read a new book, read an article on how to beat writer’s block, read through the writer resources tag at the @spnfanficpond…

Mana also gifted us with these lovely links:

Writer’s block app that won’t let you do anything else until you’ve reached your goal.

A lovely gif beautifully encapsulating exactly how writer’s block feels.

General Pond Updates and Reminders

What we’ve got cooking up next: Not much, at the moment, since everyone is busy, so we’re just trying to keep up with the day-to-day at the moment! Our to do list is still long, though, and will not be neglected forever!

Reminders:

Angel Fish Award nominations are accepted all month long! No need to wait to tell us how much you liked a fellow Fish’s work!  IF YOU HAVE SENT IN A NOMINATION, BUT HAVE NOT RECEIVED A PRIVATE MESSAGE CONFIRMING WE RECEIVED IT, WE DIDN’T GET IT. Be sure to use Submit instead of Ask!

Don’t forget to submit your stories to be posted to the blog! When your stories are on the blog, then they are easier to nominate for Angel Fish Awards!

SPNFanFicPond Season 14 Weekly Episode Challenge - Even though season 15 is just around the corner, these prompts will still always be open for you to use! Remember, there’s no deadline for submissions! Just tag the Pond and @mrswhozeewhatsis in your post!

Say hi to August’s New Members!

Check the Pond CALENDAR to see when Big Fish will be in the Skype chat room/discord general channel and other Pond and SPN events are happening! Know of something that’s not on the calendar, send us an ask or submission with the deets info details!  The calendar offers a lot of features, such as showing you when things are in your own timezone! Since we’re an international group, that’s a definite plus!!

We don’t have a topic or speaker set up for October’s event, yet, so if there’s something you want to talk about, or someone you want to talk to, LET US KNOW!

[jksmoongf]

Kissing Fire [pt. 3]

Pairing: Jungkook x reader x girlfriend (oc) Genre: cheater!au, angst, smut (maybe a tiny bit of fluff) Wordcount: 6.6k Summary: It always feels like there is only one person in the world to love. And then you find somebody else.

a/n: I don’t condone cheating on your s.o., so please don’t read if you have a problem with this! (also I’m not saying this is something Jungkook would actually do!) Warning: smut, lies, heartbreak and more lies (it’s gonna be one angsty mess) **a/n** I’m sorry it took me so long to update. I had a writer's block but this is longer than my usual chapters to make up for it. I have to thank @jaxonah for constantly kicking my butt & making me write bc this chapter wouldn’t exist if she didn’t bug me all the time. love you bby angel. 💋 Warning Chapter 3: smut (plain old vaginal sex, unprotected of course! Please use protection, angels!), jealous!jk

He could feel the mattress shift next to him, slowly forcing him out of his deep slumber. It felt like he had only closed his eyes a few minutes ago. Jungkook opened his eyes a tiny bit, watching as his girlfriend climbed out of the shared bed. Still unsure of how to approach her after last night's events, he decided it would be for the best if he just pretended to still be fast asleep. The door to his room opened and she quietly tiptoed to the bathroom. He rolled onto his back; keeping his eyes shut tightly; the feeling of guilt flooding his mind again. He fucked up by treating her badly. He was painfully aware of that, but it felt so wrong to touch her, sleep with her and make her believe he was still feeling the same way he did months ago. 

Surely, he still loved her in some way or maybe, maybe he just cared enough about her to not want to hurt her intentionally but his heart and soul were set on someone else; someone who made love feel easy, special and exciting and not like a chore.  He missed her terribly; time spent apart was almost too much to handle for him. It was like she had put a spell on him, making him fall in love so deeply that he couldn’t get out no matter how hard he tried. He felt a smile tugging on his lips; he just couldn’t help but feel happy when he thought about her. The way she said his name, still made him feel all giddy inside just like that one time his parents had taken him and his brother to a fair and he got to eat all the snacks and ride the carousel until he felt dizzy.  The door opened and he listened to Yina shuffle around his room, getting dressed and packing up her things. In the past, he had watched her, admiring her beauty and hoping to steal another kiss before she left but now he was counting down the seconds until she was gone, hoping he wouldn’t have to endure her presence for a while. For a moment it was silent and he could feel her eyes resting on his body. He didn’t dare to move, scared he would indicate to her that he was awake. She let out a sigh before leaving his room and closing the door behind her. He stayed still, listening to her footsteps echoing down the hallway on the expensive hardwood floors.  Just to make sure she was really gone he peeked through his eyelashes; his room was still dark but he was alone, at last.  With lightning speed he reached for his phone, desperately tapping the home button only to find that he had no new message from her. It was just past seven in the morning and he knew she would still be asleep but his heart yearned for a simple text. 

An unknown hand was softly caressing Jungkook’s cheek and his eyes fluttered open, only to look at Hoseok in disappointment. “Good morning Sleeping Beauty, breakfast is ready.” He laughed, pulling the duvet off of the younger boy. Jungkook curled up, shaking his head. “Come on, the others are waiting for you.”  “But I don’t wanna get up..” He nuzzled his face into the soft pillow, wanting to get five more minutes of sleep.  “Move it.” Hoseok started poking his face, making his silly little noises. “Come on, you don’t want your cereal to get soggy.” 

With a groan Jungkook let his older brother pull him to his feet, slowly waddling after him to the kitchen. He took his usual place at the big kitchen table and sleepily stared into the empty ceramic bowl in front of him. Ha-na and Tae were already in a chipper mood, talking about all sorts of things. “So, do you want to order takeout or shall I cook?”  “Let’s just order something. It’ll be easier and you don’t have to worry about getting everything ready.” Tae said before shoving a piece of toast in his mouth. It was odd to not see him with his headphones in, watching an anime while eating his breakfast, waiting for his body to wake up. Maybe Ha-na did make things better for Tae, he seemed a lot happier since she was around, even in the mornings. Jungkook had always had a difficult time waking up, it took him a lot longer than most people but he wondered if it would all change if y/n was around every day.  “You’re so right. God, I’m so excited.” She clapped her hands together and pressed a kiss to her boyfriend’s cheek.  “Coffee…” Jungkook muttered, his eyes glued to the coffee machine on the counter; hoping he’d find it in himself to get his body to move from the chair in the foreseeable future.  “Take mine, I’ll make a new one.” Hoseok placed a big mug in front of him and ruffled his hair. He hated to admit it, being 21 years old, but sometimes he enjoyed when his older brothers babied him, making sure he had everything he needed - even the little things like coffee and a bowl full of his favorite cereal. Greedily he grabbed the mug with both hands, ready to chug down the hot milky brown liquid.  “What do you have planned today that you’re so excited about?” Jin inquired, putting his phone down on the table.  “We are playing cupid today.” Ha-na smiled. “So we need all of you to either go out or stay in your rooms so we can have the living room to ourselves.” 

Jungkook had not been paying much attention to the conversation the others were having, too busy devouring his cereal until her name was brought up. Trying not to look suspicious, he pricked up his ears.  “We’re planning on setting up y/n with one of Tae’s friends from Hwarang.”  He almost choked on the spoon full of cereal in his mouth. “What?”  “Oh look, who’s finally awake.” The others laughed at his shocked reaction. Trying to play it cool, he leaned back in his chair; pushing his hair from his forehead. “I’m pretty sure, y/n can get a date on her own without your help.”  “I’m sure she can, but Tae and I think she would be really cute with Hyungsik.”  “Hyungsik…” Jungkook repeated under his breath; jealousy beginning to stir up in the pit of his stomach. How was he going to compete against someone like him? Everybody seemingly adored that guy. “You can’t set her up with him…” He said; biting down on his tongue as soon as the words left his mouth, mentally slapping himself. He had to be careful; letting his jealousy surface would be a dead giveaway that he was not just y/n’s friend. 

“And why not?” Ha-na seemed awfully intrigued by his comment; propping her elbow up on the table to rest her chin on her hand. “He’s very good looking, he is funny and really nice and he’s a great actor. The whole package if you ask me and if they do hit it off, Tae and I finally have another couple to go on dates with. It’s a win-win situation and everyone will be happy.” 

Ignoring her completely to avoid telling her that it would make him miserable, Jungkook looked at Tae. “Do you really think y/n wants you to do that?”  But Taehyung just shrugged him off. “I don’t know but Ha-na is right, they would be cute together. Hyungsik is amazing and I know y/n liked the dramas he was in, so it won’t hurt to try, you know?”  “He’s not even that great of an actor.” Jungkook groaned in annoyance.  “That’s not what you said when you watched Strong Girl with me every week…” Tae trailed off, making everyone laugh. “What’s your problem?”  “I don’t have one, I just think you shouldn’t be forcing your best friend to go on dates just so you and your girlfriend can go on double dates. That’s so selfish.” “Wow, okay calm down Kook.” Ha-na looked him in the eyes. “It’s just a first date so they can get to know each other and maybe they’ll fall in love and get married and have babies.” 

He knew that she was just teasing him to annoy him even more but he felt a sting in his heart that he couldn’t explain. Yes, none of this was true but deep down he was scared that he might lose her to someone with whom she didn’t have to hide her relationship with in front of her friends. Was she really so in love with him that she wouldn’t replace him with someone like Hyungsik? It wasn’t hard to picture her holding hands with him while walking down the street, being happy and in love. Jungkook hated his vivid imagination for fueling his jealousy and anger, not only toward his girlfriend but also towards a guy he had never even met. 

“I bet you jinxed it and he won’t like her, I mean who would, right?”  “Did you really just say that?” Tae’s eyes were nothing but mere slits now, his nose slightly scrunched up in contempt about the snide remark.  “I was joking…maybe she’s not his type. I always thought y/n was more of an acquired taste, you know? She’s a little odd.”  “If she’s so odd, care to explain why you keep helping her with editing and taking pictures?” Ha-na was giving him the side-eye as if she had just caught him in the act of lying through his teeth.  “She’s still my friend but that’s not the point.”  “And what is the point, JK?” Hobi chimed in, who had been following this conversation silently, which was very unlike him.  “Ugh never mind, none of you would get it.” He pushed his chair back. “I’m going to my room.”  “Don’t forget to stay there until their date is over tonight.” Her voice echoed in his head as he stomped down the hall. Ha-na had always teased him like an older sister would but she never went too far until now. He could feel his hands shaking with anger; no one was going to steal the girl he truly loved… no one. 

*

She stood in the lobby of the apartment complex, waiting for the elevator when her phone vibrated in her pocket. She had just arrived at the dorms, after meeting Taehyung and Ha-na in Dongmyo for a coffee, while they were out shopping for vintage clothes. 

[Taehyungie - 3:43 pm] Ha-na has laid out a dress for you to wear on my bed. If your bra needs some extra padding there’s some in the bottom drawer on her side of the closet. She said that you have to make the girls look good 🙈😶 her makeup bag is on my desk if you need anything ☺️

Rolling her eyes, she stepped into the marble tiled elevator, looking at herself in the full-length mirrors that covered all three walls. Yes, her outfit was simple today - skinny jeans, an oversized sweater, and a denim jacket but this morning when she got dressed she hadn’t known she was going on a date otherwise she would’ve put more effort into how she looked. Jungkook on the other hand really didn’t care much for the clothes she wore; by all means, she could be wearing a trash bag because he would undress her eventually anyway.

“Jungkook…” She whispered and her body tensed up. How would he react if he found out that she was going on a blind date? She loved him with every fiber of her body and hurting his feelings was the last thing she wanted to do but she had no choice. Not wanting Tae or Ha-na to be disappointed in her when they had planned this evening and both seemed really excited at the idea of her finally having a boyfriend. 

After entering the passcode to the apartment, she quietly swung the door open but was met with nothing but silence. Coming here early and unannounced wasn’t the best idea, maybe he had gone to his studio to work on some music or videos.  She kicked off her shoes in the entryway and made her way to Taehyung’s room where she found a burgundy-colored dress on the bed. Carefully she picked it up to get a closer look - it was a pretty dress although it wasn’t her style. Quickly she changed into it, eyeing herself in the mirror. It was quite tight, accentuating the natural curve of her body, not leaving any room for imagination of what was hiding underneath. The high neckline was connected to the rest of the dress by a strap of fabric going through the middle, letting the two cutouts reveal the mounds of her breasts. It wasn’t out of her comfort zone to show off her assets but maybe it was a little much for a date she didn’t want to go on. Both of her hands cupped her breasts, pushing them up even higher; knowing that it would drive Jungkook crazy to see her like this; his eyes glued to her chest at all times. She made a mental note to wear something similar if they ever went on a date in the future.  She wasn’t trying to woo the mystery guy so she decided against extra padding since her bra was pushing everything up to where it should be anyway. Not wanting to bestow Ha-na’s wrath on her, she touched up her makeup and used her straightener to give her hair a soft wavy texture. She had to at least pretend like she was trying to look good for tonight.

*

Jungkook pushed his chair back, resting his back against the soft cushioning, mindlessly picking at the little hairs on his cheek. It was hard to focus when all he could think of was y/n going on a date with Hyungsik. His eyes darted to the screen of his computer, focusing on what he had typed into the search bar on Naver. How to sabotage a date.. but he couldn’t bring himself to hit enter. He knew it was childish to try to ruin their night but he didn’t want to go down without a fight. Maybe he should trust her but it wasn’t easy when he had such a hard time trusting himself. He was scared shitless beyond belief; what if she actually liked him? Jealousy had always gnawed at him when Taehyung had been hanging out with his actor friends in the past, in fear of losing him too but back then he had known that he would never lose one of his best friends to those guys. It had even been fun to tease his older brother along with the other members but this time… it was different. There was a chance that she would break things off with him to be with someone better, someone who could give her everything and maybe show her off to his friends and family. Then again, it wasn’t like her to just get up and leave; she was still here every day, telling him she loved him although he had yet to break up with Yina.

Jungkook would never dare to say this out loud, let alone to her face but a part of him knew that they were destined to be together and maybe this date was just another test the universe was throwing at them. He did not believe in much these days, hardships hitting him left and right but one thing he was certain of and nothing could shatter the part inside him that believed in true love, and he was going to hold onto that thin thread that could rip apart at any moment. 

It was time to stock up on snacks for the night if he wasn’t allowed to leave his room for hours. He was cursing himself for not going out with Jin and Jimin for the day; it would have been much easier to ignore all the things he did not want to think about but a little part of him wanted to be here. His heart was playing a sadistic trick on him, making him believe that just his mere presence in the apartment would stop her from falling for another man. 

He got up from his chair and left his room, but as soon as he entered the hallway he stood still, holding his breath. His eyes were wide as he looked at his favorite person in the world leaving Tae’s room. 

“Oh, Kookie..” A smile spread across her face, as she made her way over to him. She was insufferably close, her perfume hitting his nose and clouding his mind; blurring out the hurt and anger stirring up like a hurricane in his chest. He didn’t want to kiss her when she looked breathtakingly beautiful for someone else but he was weak. Jungkook just couldn’t resist as the lips he was craving softly pressed on his. 

For a split second, he let himself get lost in the kiss, his hands taking their usual spot on her hips - wanting to pull her close and just hold her tight.  But he had to be strong; so he pulled away extending the distance between them again.  “So you’re going on that date then…” He said, gesturing towards her body - not needing any verbal confirmation other than the dress she was wearing.  “Yeah, I didn’t want Tae and Ha-na to get suspicious.” 

He scrunched up his nose and furrowed his brows. “Oh, like they would assume anything just because you said no to a blind date.”  She crossed her arms in front of her chest, making her breasts look even more prominent and he caught himself staring at the soft flesh he loved so much. “Y-you can’t wear that!”  “And why not?”  “Because he’ll look at you like you’re a piece of meat and…” He paused, unsure of whether it was a bad move to say what he was thinking. “Well, not all guys think with their dicks.” She said rolling her eyes. “If that’s what you’re worried about and we won’t be alone, so..” Her voice trailed off. 

Jungkook swallowed the lump that was beginning to form in his throat. She really didn’t seem to care much about his feelings. Why was it so easy for her to disregard the simple fact that it would hurt him? He would never do that to her; he loved her too much. “Cancel the date…please?” The last word was so quiet that she couldn’t hear it. Was he really going to beg as a last resort? 

“I can't, I have to go. Tae and Ha-na set it all up already.” He wasn’t sure but her eyes looked wet like she was going to burst into tears at any second. She turned around to walk back to Tae’s room but his hand quickly reached for her wrist. “Don’t go! You’re mine!” His voice was now firmer and louder than before.  “These words would be a WHISPER if Yina was here.” 

She looked at him; eyes not swimming in tears anymore. Why was he being a jerk about this? He knew that she had no choice, although they were the ones who constructed this mess in the first place. She opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind, when he suddenly grabbed her other arm, closing the distance between them and making her walk backward until she was trapped between him and the wall. Jungkook’s body was radiating with heated anger, yet his face remained expressionless. His right hand let go of her wrist, only to firmly grab her chin, forcing her to look up at him. Lips greedily attacking hers; teeth grazing over her bottom lip before sucking it in-between his.  A hand was tangled in her hair, as the other found its way underneath the dress. He wasn’t wasting time; his fingers eagerly massaging the little bud over her panties, making her moan into his mouth. He could feel her arousal dampening the fabric quickly; over the past months, he had learned a lot about her body and what got her going that there was no trace left of the shy, unsure boy he once was, now being able to take full advantage of his knowledge. 

Her tongue was fighting a long lost battle against his; she was like putty in his hands, even now when he was angry and just having his way with her. Jungkook’s movements were quick, they could get caught any minute. He broke the kiss and swiftly turned her around to face the wall; skillfully he rolled her panties down with one hand while lifting her dress up with the other. Eyes resting on her behind, fighting the urge to slap it and leaving his handprint as evidence that she belonged to him. “So pretty…” He mumbled, running his fingers over the soft round flesh. “What is?” She asked, her voice breathy and unstable. “You.” He could see the smile tugging at her lips. 

Usually, he’d give himself more time, to taste and treasure her but he had to be quick. He shoved his black sweat pants down his thighs, setting his almost fully erect member free, before hastily stroking it until he was fully hard. He grabbed her hips to adjust her position, arching her back for easy access. 

With one hand still resting on the small of her back, he wrapped the other around the base of his throbbing dick, rubbing it back and forth between the wet folds, not able to resist the inviting warmth any longer; watching as the tip painfully slow disappeared inside her. She gasped at the somewhat unexpected intrusion, almost immediately followed by a moan through gritted teeth. 

He pulled out, only to thrust back in with full force; no intention of giving her much time to adjust. His fingers were digging into her skin, his teeth buried in his bottom lip; too lost and focused on thrusting in and out. 

Skin slapping on skin echoed from the walls of the hallway, mixed with her needy moans begging him to go faster and harder. His hand once again, tangled in her hair, pulling her upper body closer to his so he could lick and suck on the delicate skin of her neck. 

“Jungkook..baby..please…” She breathed her hand between her legs, rubbing her clit to help her chase down her orgasm. Roughly he swatted her hand away, replacing her fingers with his own, coating them in her sweet sticky juices. 

He could feel her starting to clench around his dick; normally he would hold back, waiting for her to finish first but not today. He picked up the pacing of his thrusts, his fingers mimicking the speed perfectly as he rubbed small circles around the swollen bead, skillfully avoiding the point that would push her over the edge. 

His breath hitched and got caught in his throat. “Fuck.” He whined as he released hot streams of cum inside of her; her walls convulsing around his dick, milking every last drop. This time, he pressed a gentle kiss on the exposed part of her shoulder before pulling out. “But baby, I didn’t finish.” Not once had her voice sounded so needy and whiny until now and it boosted his confidence in his decision. 

“Have fun on your date…” He said, while quickly pulling up her panties to make sure no cum was dripping out of her. “…with me inside of you.” He whispered against her ear, as she slowly turned around to face him, an expression of disbelief painted all over her features.  

Nonchalantly he pulled up his sweats and fixed his hair in the reflection of the picture on the wall. Her hair was a mess, the lipstick was blotchy and her cheeks were flushed. His eyes wandered to her legs, resting on her thighs which were tightly pressed together. He fully believed in his irrational plan, relying simply on the fact that she had always been the more adventurous one in their relationship, contrary to him who had always liked to play it safe until he met her.  Faintly he could hear voices outside the apartment and with a smirk he walked into the kitchen to grab some snacks like he had originally intended, leaving her behind all hot and bothered. 

He was rummaging through the cupboards when he heard Ha-na’s voice from the hallway.  “Oh my god! What did you do? We have to fix this! He will be here in 30 minutes. Tae, order some food and get the boardgames ready while I go fix y/n’s hair and makeup for her future hubby.” 

He heard Taehyung mumbling a reply followed by shuffling noises in the other room.  “Hyung, do you need some help?” Jungkook asked as he casually strolled into the living room, stuffing a handful of chocolate balls into his mouth.  “Yes, can you please wipe down the table and straighten out the pillows? So I can order food! Ha-na wants everything to be perfect.”  “Aye aye, sir.” Jungkook saluted him and clicked his heels. “Your girlfriend always gets what she wants, doesn’t she?” He mumbled underneath his breath as he grabbed the spray bottle and an old rag from the table. He really needed to watch what he was saying not wanting to stir up an argument with his friend. 

“What did you say?”  “Uh, nothing.” Jungkook quickly wiped down the wooden surface of the table and started straightening out the cushions on the couch. “Hyung, where’s y/n gonna sit?”  “I don’t know? Probably next to Hyungsik, I suppose.”  He rolled his eyes. “Of course she will but maybe you want to put a towel down.”  “Why would I do that?” The older one sounded confused as he looked up from his phone where he had been studying the menu of a restaurant. 

‘Oh because I just fucked her and came inside her so there might be cum stains on the couch by the end of the night.’, he thought to himself but he opted for a snide remark. “Oh you know, she might pee herself in excitement when she meets your oh-so-amazing actor buddy.” 

The sarcastic tone in Jungkook’s voice didn’t go unnoticed and Taehyung raised his eyebrows.  “What’s gotten into you? You’ve been acting strange all day.”  “I just still think it’s a dumb idea…” He turned around, grabbed the bag of chocolate balls from the smaller side table and walked back towards the kitchen. “…but you always do what your girlfriend tells you to do..” He quietly muttered as he grabbed the rest of his snacks so Tae wouldn’t hear him through the rustling of the bags. He was already counting down the minutes until this dreadful day was finally over, hoping that it would not end badly. 

* “Y/n can you help me with the dishes?” Tae stood up, collecting the plates. “Sure.” She nodded, giving Hyungsik a small smile before picking up the glasses and empty takeout boxes, dropping a fork in the process. Hyungsik handed it to her. “Do you need some help?” His smile was gorgeous - much better in person than on tv and it made her knees feel wobbly and her cheeks flush. “Oh no it’s fine, I got it.” Quickly she rushed after her best friend to the kitchen, plopping the containers down on the island, while he was rinsing off the plates. “Y/n…” He began, lowering his voice to make sure the other two wouldn’t hear him. “Why are you so quiet? That’s really unlike you.” She froze, as she tried to stuff the boxes into the designated trash can. “What do you mean? I’m not quiet at all.” “Yes, you are. You have hardly said anything to Hyungsik, it’s like you’re not even trying to get to know him. He’s really nice and funny but you’re just talking to me if you say anything at all.” Lowering her head, she tried hard to come up with a realistic lie that would satisfy Tae and avoid further questions she was ready to answer. But it wasn’t easy to pretend to enjoy being on a date when the boy she loved was in another room, probably upset and the remains of their little endeavor sticking her panties uncomfortably to her skin. “I…I don’t know.. Tae he’s famous, it’s kinda weird.” “I’m famous too…” He shrugged. “And you don’t have a problem with that.” She giggled. “To me, you’re not. I was with you when you peed your pants on our way home from school in first grade.” “I told you not to mention that, ever. Also, it was your fault for making me laugh.” He nudged her shoulder with a boxy smile on his face. “You don’t have to be shy around Hyungsik, he’s just a normal guy - like me.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Yeah right, a normal guy I see on tv all the time.” She paused, taking in her best friend's profile as he bent down to place the dishes in the dishwasher. “I just can’t help it when I get shy…I’m sorry” “Don’t be sorry! I just want you to give him a real chance, okay? He would be good for you.” The sincerity in Taehyung’s eyes and voice made her feel guilty. He had put so much thought into choosing a suitable guy for her, and Ha-na had planned the date to perfection but she just couldn’t give them what they wanted. There was no connection, no spark..nothing. It was different with Jungkook; they connected on a deeper level and there was no way of denying the chemistry between them. Trying to stay away from him was the hardest thing she ever had to do and one day they both caved in - a memory she would always treasure, feeling his lips for the first time, tasting his tongue. “Just try to come out of your shell next time.” Tae said as they were walking back into the living room where Ha-na and Hyungsik had cleaned up the table. “I should get going now, I have to be on set quite early tomorrow.” “Aw, already?” Ha-na seemed more upset than the rest of them, still hoping the date would take a turn for the better if he just stayed a little longer. “Yeah, I’m sorry but I had a lot of fun.” They walked him to the door, where he hugged Tae and Ha-na. “It was really nice to meet you.” He said to her, as she carefully held out her hand to shake his. “It would be kinda awkward to shake your hand, after hugging these two.” He nodded his head to the left where the other two were standing, pretending not to observe their every move.  “A little, yeah.” She let him pull her into a quick hug. “I had a really good time.”  “Me too.” He winked at her before turning to leave.  It took a weight off her mind, which she didn’t know existed once the door closed behind him. Successfully she had avoided awakening any romantic feelings on his side, subconsciously sabotaging the date herself. She had been quiet for a reason with Jungkook occupying her every thought.  When Ha-na and Tae were getting ready to leave to spend the night at her apartment for some much needed alone time, she knew that this was one of the rare moments where she wouldn’t have to sneak into his room. Lying to them was expectedly easy, telling them not to wait for her as she wanted to change and take the makeup off before she went home; knowing her brother wouldn’t approve of this dress under any circumstance. 

Quickly she changed into her clothes before carefully opening Jungkook’s door without knocking. He was lying on his bed, staring at the wall where his projector played a foreign horror movie. “Hey.” “Oh, you’re still here? Hyungsik is not giving you a ride home?” He mumbled, trying to keep his voice casual as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “He has to be on set early tomorrow..” She closed the door behind her, not wanting to risk the other boys waking up. “Right, well you have work tomorrow too, so maybe you should go home as well.” She was eyeing him, as he kept his face directed towards the movie in a stone-cold expression. “I thought we could talk or spend some time together?” 

Out of the blue he looked at her as he sat up on his bed, narrowing his big eyes to slits. “You want to talk? About what exactly? Oh, I know maybe about how you didn’t even care that it would hurt me that you were on a date just meters away from me while I’m stuck in my room thinking about all the things he’s saying to you?” “Why are you giving me shit for this? You leave me alone to be with her all the time and you seemingly don’t care that it makes me feel horrible knowing that she’s touching and kissing you…” Baffled by the bluntness of her words he started chewing on the inside of his cheek; she was right - he was a condescending asshole. Always disregarding how badly it was making her feel that he had to spend time with another girl, but he was too shy and maybe a part of him was too proud to admit that his actions were hurting him just as much as they were hurting her. “You know, I have no choice..” “Neither did I…” An awkward silence seemed to lull both of them in a tight blanket while a guy was fighting for his life against a murderer. “Are you staying?” She nodded. “Then don’t just stand there, weirdo.” He leaned back into the soft pillows as she sat down her bag and took off her denim jacket. The air in the room felt tense, filled with too many things that were left unsaid but there was no use in arguing when they barely even got the chance to spend a night together. As she undressed, she felt his eyes on her body but it was different this time. He wasn’t going to attack her and devour her like a starved animal like he did in the afternoon. She loosely buttoned up his favorite shirt and looked at him, his gaze quickly darting back to the movie. “You know it’s rude to watch a girl undress.” “It would be if you weren’t my girl.”  She chuckled lying down next to him when he immediately rolled over to rest his head on her chest. Slowly she ran her fingers through his dark locks, letting her nails gently scratch over his scalp, eliciting a sigh from his lips. Maybe all he needed to be okay was to be close to her, to feel the warmth of her body against his skin. The soft squishiness of her boobs instantly relieving the pressure he had felt poking and prodding at his brain at all times for the past hours. The insecurities that had kept his mind on edge during the day were still all too present in the far back but how could he be mad at her now that she came to him even after a date with one of the most popular guys in the country. She came back to him; maybe she did love him as much as he loved her after all. 

He nestled his face into the curve of her boob, inhaling the all too familiar sweet scent of her skin, feeling his eyes tear up. No other girl could ever compare to her - his living addiction.  “You know…” She said quietly after a while. “I wished it was you the whole time..” 

Jungkook lifted his head up from her chest, his eyes were unusually glossy in the dim lighting. Only seconds later he was towering above her, noses touching as he shakily inhaled before pressing his lips onto hers. Her hand pushed his hair from his face, while her other arm lazily wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. As he closed his eyes silent tears of relief fell, dabbling onto her cheeks - one or two leaving a salty taste on their lips. A part of him had known that she wouldn’t leave him but once the fear took over his mind it was all he could think about - but his heart now felt lighter after just hearing those simple words from her. Both of her hands gently cupped his cheeks, thumbs wiping away fresh tears still spilling from his eyes as their lips slowly moved in a familiar way that only they knew. She pulled away, her eyes diving into his before he felt her soft lips kissing his cheeks, erasing the last salty remains. “I was scared you’d leave me…” He whispered in between kisses along her jawline and down her neck. Shaking her head no, she bit down on her lip as he sucked on the sweet spot right below her earlobe. “I only want you…” Jungkook smiled against her skin, the tip of his nose tickling her. “I know that now…you didn’t run off with the country’s prince charming…” She put her finger to his lips to silence him. “Why would I? You’re so much better.” His mouth curved into a smile then pressing a short peck against her finger. Jungkook buried his face into the curve of her neck, enjoying the circles her nails drew on his bare shoulders. Her body pressed against his was like balm for his soul. Gently he started pressing small, light kisses against her collarbone. He wanted the world to know; he wanted to climb on top of the highest building in the city and scream that he was in love with her from the top of his lungs. But the thought of others finding out scared him to death. The little bubble they were in was comfortable; no one was going to judge him for falling in love head over heels with someone else if it was kept a secret a little longer. If only he could stay with her like that forever, cooped up in his room, arms wrapped tightly around her. Feeling her chest rise and fall underneath his arm, the faint smell of lilies from her hair made him feel drowsy. Everything was perfect right at this moment. “I love you.” She whispered, her voice drugged with sleep - threatening to drift off at any second. “I love you…” He mumbled, lips ghosting over the small exposed part of her neck. She pulled his arm up a little, so it was resting right under her boobs, lacing her fingers with his as if to make sure this wasn’t just a dream. He felt the vibration of her phone on the mattress and groaned when she slowly reached for it. “No y/n, don’t.” “What if it’s someone from work?” He pressed his eyes shut tightly as the light of the screen illuminated her face. Without warning, she sat up; now seemingly wide awake when he heard her curse under her breath. His arm was lazily resting on top of her thighs; he was too sleepy to move. “Jungkook…” He hummed in response, trying hard to stay on the verge of falling asleep. “You have to look at this… we’re so screwed.” He could sense panic rising up in her voice when he finally opened his eyes to read the text. [Ha-na - 12:55am] I know your secret…

[captaincanarygotmelike]

Voices Carry Alternate Ending

So I promised an alt. ending to Voices Carry literally in July. Whoops. Anyway, if you’re new, you should probably read the original fic (linked here) bc this won’t make a whole lot of sense if you don’t but it’s your life.

Read on AO3

Read on Fanfiction.net

“Avery’s dancing with someone and it isn’t me?” Leonard heard someone exclaim.

He looked over in time to see Avery run over and jump into Felicity’s arms, letting her swing her around in circles.

Leonard felt someone grab his hand.

“You wanna dance, Leonard?” Sara asked, a smirk on her lips.

Leonard tried to smirk back, but found that he couldn’t, his body paralyzed, his eyes seeing nothing but darkness.

You wanna dance, Leonard?

The words reverberated in his mind until they took on a new voice.

Or…the same voice, but different somehow. Maybe younger? Older? He couldn’t tell. Different definitely. More of a joking tone, as if Sara — yes, he was sure it was still Sara — knew he would say no.

No thanks, I’ll watch.

His voice now, although he hadn’t spoken them.

Suit yourself.

Sara again, indifference in her voice, like she was talking to a stranger.

The world around Leonard was still dark, or maybe he just couldn’t open his eyes.

Dollar beers.

Mick’s words, rough and jagged, floated into his mind like a bubble.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Avery, her voice high and sweet.

Gotta love the seventies.

Mick again.

The seventies?

An image flickered into Leonard’s mind of a bar he had never been in, an old jukebox in the corner, a deer head mounted on a tall post, red, knotty wood making up almost every surface, and Sara standing in front of him.

Her hair was longer than he remembered, and she was wearing some sort of costume? Something he’d never seen before: white and leather with a halter neck.

Suit yourself.

Sara handed him her beer, the bottle cold in the palm of his hand.

Recognition flooded his mind as the White Canary walked into the empty space of the bar in St. Roch, Louisiana, 1975.

He and Sara and Mick had all just joined the time traveling mission to save time from Vandal Savage. They were benched from the first mission, so they crashed a bar.

They weren’t benched from other missions though. He remembered breaking into Savage’s house with Mick and…tall…painfully optimistic…Ray. He remembers the rest of the team now, Kendra, Jax, Stein, and Rip, their captain. He remembers breaking Mick and Ray out of a Russian gulag. He remembers nearly freezing in the cargo hold of the Waverider, Mick’s betrayal and return, pointing the cold gun at Sara. He remembers holding down the failsafe at the Oculus Wellspring.

Me and you.

You wanna steal a kiss from me, Leonard.

Leonard.

“Leonard!”

The voice was louder now, solid, and certainly not Sara’s.

Snart!”

It’s lower, a man’s, but not as low as Mick’s, somewhere in the middle.

His eyes opened and he could see again, for the first time since the wedding.

His wedding.

His vision focused and he recognized the med bay on the Waverider, clean and painfully bright.

Ray Palmer stood beside the bed.

“You’re awake!” he exclaimed. His face was as bright as ever, but there was still concern in his eyes.

“Thanks for letting me know,” he grumbled, pushing himself into a more upright position.

There was a beat of silence.

“What happened?” he finally asked.

He hadn’t wanted to say it, to admit to Raymond and himself the position of vulnerability he was in.

“We’re not really sure,” Ray answered, looking intently at the screen displaying his vitals, “You, y’know, died when the Oculus blew up, or at least that’s what we thought. A year and half went by without any sign of you and then all of a sudden Gideon started freaking out and then we found you passed out in an alley behind some bar in Louisiana, 1975.”

Another second of silence.

“What happened?”

This time it was Ray who asked.

“I mean,” he continued, “did you get sucked into the timeline? Because that’s what I think happened.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Or maybe destroying the Oculus reset your timeline or, what do you think?” Ray paused when he realized Leonard wasn’t responding, “Hey, are you okay?”

“I need to talk to Rip,” he said, “Alone.”

Confusion etched itself across Ray’s face, but he hid it surprisingly well.

Leonard wasn’t surprised by his concern. The more he came to remember who he was here, on the Waverider, the more he recognized that genuinely seeking out their captain was extremely out of character.

“Rip is,” Ray hesitated, “not here.”

“Not here?”

“Look, I know it’s been a while, but—”

“Who’s Captain, then?”

“Sara.”

Leonard felt a pang in her heart at her name.

“Oh.”

“But I’ve been working pretty closely with Gideon,” Ray said hurriedly, “I can try to help.”

Leonard said nothing, gesturing for him to continue.

“I assume you want to figure out what happened. You are aware of how you…” he paused, “…left us — I guess died isn’t really the best word now.”

“The Oculus.”

“Right. We thought the Oculus explosion killed you. Gideon never found any traces of your survival, so we just assumed you had died. We did have some other theories, so we set up an alert if you ever turned up anywhere. Eighteen months later, here we are.”

“I just, what, showed up?”

“Seems like it,” Ray replied, “in St. Roch, 1975 at the bar you went to with Mick and Sara.”

Leonard let his eyes close at the sound of Sara’s name.

“What?” Ray asked. Leonard opened his eyes and shook his head.

“Where did I come from?” he asked, hearing anger in his voice he hadn’t realized he was feeling.

“We don’t know — not yet anyway. I’m almost afraid to ask, but,” Ray hesitated, “where were you?”

Leonard exhaled heavily.

“I was—” he stopped for a moment, thinking, “I think I was on…not this Earth. Another one. I was me, but things about me were different.”

“Different how?”

“I was still Captain Cold,” he answered, “but I hid who I really was. My sister wasn’t Golden Glider, Mick wasn’t Heatwave — Mick wasn’t around at all really.”

“And you didn’t work on the — a — Waverider, or with anybody on this team?”

“No— well, not entirely.”

“What do you mean?”

“I knew — know — Sara.”

“Oh,” he said, his eyebrows raised, “And you were with her?”

“Yeah, you could say that,” he replied, feeling a smirk creep onto his lips.

“So let me get this straight,” Ray said, starting a slow pace around the med bay, “You have all your memories from your life on this other earth, from childhood to today. And you have all your memories from your life on this Earth?”

“As of ten minutes ago, yes.”

Ray nodded slowly.

“Okay, well, the first thing we did when we got you to the med bay was run a test to see if you are really you — our Earth’s you.”

“And?”

“You are the Earth-One Leonard Snart. The cells in your right hand are younger than the rest of your body, from when you had to regrow it two years ago. According to Gideon, that event is unique to Earth-One Leonard Snart.

“Lucky me.”

“So now we have to ask, how did you end up on another Earth?” Ray continued, “And which Earth was it?”

“You think that’s what happened?”

“Well, my other thought is that you were in a dream world, you know, inside your head, but given how visceral your knowledge of this other life is, I don’t really think that’s the case,” Ray replied. His face clouded over in thought, “Or maybe the aliens.”

“What?”

Rip shook his head.

“Never mind. Probably not. Anyway, we can run a search to figure out what Earth you ended up on, but we’ll need to go to the bridge. Gideon, is Snart okay to make it there alright?”

“Yes, Mr. Palmer, I believe Mr. Snart has recovered enough to not need the services of the medical bay.”

“Perfect.”

Ray took a step back and waited while Leonard got to his feet.

“So,” he said as they walked down the corridor leading to the bridge, “What I think happened is when you destroyed the Oculus, the explosion pulled you into the time stream of another Earth, and you became an anachronism.”

“What’s an anachronism?” Leonard asked drily.

“Man, have you missed a lot,” Ray sighed, “Anachronisms are changes to the timeline that were caused by the ripple effect of other changes. Stein caused an anachronism when he gave his younger self some advice and now he has a daughter, Lily. He has memories of both lives, with and without Lily, same as you with the two Earths.”

“So…” Leonard said, trailing off when he couldn’t find a way to continue.

“I can find the Earth you were on if you want,” Ray suggested.

After a moment of thought, Leonard nodded.

“Okay, so I just need a detail that could be unique to that particular Earth, like how having to regenerate your hand is unique to you,” he explained. By that time, they had reached the bridge, stopping in front of the holo table, “Do you have anything in mind?”

Leonard thought for a while, considering the two worlds he had lived in.

“Avery Lance.”

Ray met his eyes for a moment, but didn’t say anything.

“Gideon,” he called into the air, “Run a multiverse search for Avery Lance in the year 2018.

There was silence for a moment.

“I found records of an Avery Felicity Lance, age four, currently living in Central City on Earth sixty-three.”

Leonard wasn’t listening. A picture had appeared on the holo table — Avery, in a floral print skirt and pink blouse, sandals on her feet, a white bow in her wild curls, and backpack straps over her shoulders. Sara was crouched down at her side and they were both smiling into the camera.

Leonard knew this picture well. It was taken on Avery’s first day of preschool, and sat in a frame on a shelf in the living room.

He thought of Sara and Avery. The new weight of the wedding band on his ring finger had been a constant thought in his mind. He could only hope the mysterious ways of time were protecting them from what was going on, and he was trying to avoid altogether the thought of never returning to them.

“Snart,” Ray said, his voice softer than it had been thus far, “This is Earth-63-Sara’s daughter?” Leonard nodded, “And yours?”

“Not…biologically,” Leonard answered, not taking his eyes off the picture, “but she’s…” he trailed off, trying to find the right words, “I love her like she’s mine.”

“And Sara wasn’t just a business partner.”

“No,” he said, his voice soft, “Our wedding was today.”

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to share that particular part of his life, but at this point it didn’t seem to matter.

“Mazel Tov,” Ray replied somewhat uncomfortably.

“Thanks,” Leonard replied, expressionless.

“Well, Gideon and I are going to figure out how this happened. In the meantime, if you’d like to,” he paused, “reacquaint yourself with the ship and the team, you can.”

Leonard nodded curtly, turned, and headed for the metal doorway.

He’d be lying if he said his memory of the Waverider and its maze of corridors was perfect, but it was starting to come back to him. He made it back to his quarters relatively easily.

The doors opened automatically as he approached, and once inside, he was surrounded by his old belongings, although he wasn’t sure if old was the right word.

There was a frame on a black desk holding a faded photograph of Lisa at her high school graduation. On Earth-63, Leonard had a similar picture from Lisa’s college graduation, but he also knew on this Earth, Earth-1 Lisa hadn’t gone to college, and neither did he.

It was strange, when he first woke up, he had considered what was apparently Earth-63 to be his real Earth, but the longer he was here and the more he remembered, it was beginning to even out. He had lived both, and had memories of both lives. Both of them were real.

Leonard wasn’t sure if that was a reassuring thought. He wondered if he was stuck on this Earth now — although again, stuck didn’t seem like the right word, because there was a part of him that felt relieved to be back. Of course, there was an equally strong part of him that desperately wanted to return to Earth-63. He just wasn’t sure if that was a possibility.

He turned when he heard the sound of knocking on the metal door.

“Hey,” Jax said, taking a step into the room, “How’re you doing?”

“Fine,” he replied.

“I, uh, sort of accidentally overheard you and Ray on the bridge,” he said, “Look, I’m really sorry, man. I really hope we find a way to get you back to Earth-63 and your family, if that’s what you want.”

“So do I,” he replied.

“Have you said hi to the rest of the team yet?”

“No.”

“Well, you should. We missed you around here.”

Jax nodded once, then turned and left the room.

Leonard thought about what Jax had said and found he did want to talk to the team. He found he was beginning to remember the people he worked with for the five months he was on the Waverider before the Oculus. He remembered how much he cared about them. He realized that this was somewhat uncharacteristic for this version of him, but so was self-sacrifice to save all of history, at least it would have been when the mission began. The mission had changed him. He probably wouldn’t have let himself acknowledge that before, but at this point, it seemed sort of futile. He’d changed a lot on Earth-63 as well. It was a good thing. Barry — Earth-63 Barry — had said something only a few hours early which led him to realize that past versions of himself could never have been capable of being loved by Sara Lance. He’d continued to become a better person because of her. perhaps that’s why he drifted to Sara on this Earth as well.

When he’d first woken up, thoughts of returning to Earth-63 and Sara and Avery had nearly consumed him. Those thoughts certainly weren’t gone, but he couldn’t deny there was a part of him that wanted to stay here, on Earth-1. That thought left a somewhat bitter taste in his mouth. He had a wife and a daughter on Earth-63, yet he still felt a desire to stay here. He had unfinished business here, both on this Earth and on the Waverider.

He couldn’t help but think of Lisa. Did the team tell her what happened after the Oculus? Did she think he was dead? Leonard hadn’t bothered to tell her about the Waverider and the mission because he figured they’d return mere minutes after they left.

And what about Mick. He didn’t know why it had taken so long to think of his old friend, his partner, except perhaps that they hadn’t been as close on Earth-63 as they were here.

Either way, Leonard knew the last time they had interacted was when he had knocked Mick out with the cold gun to take his place at the Oculus.

He remember what Jax had said about visiting the team. Leonard sighed and headed for the door.

He remembered where Mick’s room was. He hadn’t gone there particularly often when he was on the ship. For as long and as well as they knew each other, they weren’t particularly close. He actually thought he might have spent more time in Sara’s room than Mick’s.

Predicting the future, he thought, then pushed the idea out of his mind, realizing as he did that he wasn’t sure which Sara he’d been thinking of.

He rounded a corner and nearly collided with someone. He took a step back and saw familiar light brown hair — the same color as Avery’s — messy in a way that seemed like it was on purpose. He was slightly more built than on Earth-63, but he was dressed the same: t-shirt and loose-fitting jeans.

“Hey,” he said, holding out a hand, “Nate Heywood. You must be Captain Cold. Ray talks about you all the time.”

Leonard stood still, not really sure how to react. He had never considered the potential overlaps between the two Earths he knew, overlaps he couldn’t foresee.

Nate Heywood hadn’t been on the team when Leonard was last a part of it, yet here he was. He wondered what else was different.

Had anybody else joined the team? He knew Rip was gone, although he didn’t know why — maybe after the Oculus they defeated Savage and saved Miranda and Jonas. Maybe he was with his family.

Either way, Sara was captain of the Waverider now, a fact he hadn’t gotten to process yet.

What about at home? Is Lisa dating Cisco on this Earth? Is she working on the Flash’s team? What about Malcolm Merlyn? As memories of Earth-1 returned to him, he remembered hearing about earthquakes in a district in Star City, attributed to Malcolm Merlyn. What was he doing now? Still in jail, hopefully.

“Hey,” Nate said, slowing lowering his hand, “You alright?”

“Peachy,” he replied, brushing past him towards Mick’s room.

It was a disaster zone.

Mick had always been the messiest person Leonard had ever known. This wasn’t particularly out of the norm when they were teenagers, but apparently he’d never grown out of it. At least something was consistent between the two Earths.

Mick was sitting on the edge of the bed, tinkering with the heat gun. He looked up.

“Mick,” he said, leaning against the doorframe.

“Heard you were back from the dead,” he replied, glancing up at him before looking back to his gun.

“Seems like it.”

“Haircut told me you were on a different Earth.”

“Seems like it.”

“He said you married Sara on that Earth,” Mick eventually said, “Nice job.”

“Thanks.”

Mick didn’t respond immediately, long enough for Leonard to think he should say more. He felt a strange need to apologize to him, but he wasn’t sure why.

“After you died, I told Sara that I wish I’d ‘a done more to push you together.”

“You knew?”

“ ‘course I know. The only ones on this tin can who didn’t know were you and Blondie. Glad to hear it worked out on one Earth, though.”

Leonard didn’t respond.

“Did you know me on this other Earth?” Mick asked.

“I did,” he replied, “We weren’t as close though, not in the last five or six years — remember Freeport Warehouse.”

“Yeah,” Mick said with one short laugh, “Almost didn’t get outta that one.”

“Well, we didn’t. Got three years each ��� except yours turned into seven because you kept pissing off the guards. After that we didn’t really work together much anymore.”

“Did you invite me to the wedding?”

“I did.”

“Did I come?”

“Yeah. You did.”

Neither spoke for a moment, Mick focusing on the heat gun, Leonard’s eyes roaming around the room that was becoming more familiar with each passing minute.

“You shouldn’t ‘a done it,” Mick said.

“Done what?”

“Knocked me out. Traded places with me.”

“Doesn’t seem like it really mattered in the end.” Leonard replied.

“Still. Shouldn’t ‘a done it. Not for me. Didn’t deserve it.”

Leonard furrowed his eyebrows. Apparently he wasn’t the only rogue who had changed during their time on the Waverider.

“Stein, Jax, and the boy scout are working on a way to get to your other Earth,” Mick continued, seeming unbothered by not getting a response to his previous statement. “You gonna go?”

Leonard didn’t answer immediately, even thought he knew what he was going to say. Mick’s question had made him realize that he was going to need to make a decision eventually, and the longer he stayed here, the harder that became.

��I really don’t know.”

—

Leonard left Mick’s room only a couple minutes later. Mick was a man of few words, and Leonard could sense when the conversation would go no further.

He headed back towards his room the way he came. He was nearing the corridor leading to the bridge when a familiar figure walked out of it and turned his way.

Leonard was standing face to face with Sara Lance. Sara’s expression was one he’d never seen before — not on this version nor her Earth-63 counterpart — holding both anger and sadness. He felt his lips involuntarily part, his eyes softening.

Leonard saw something change on Sara’s face, and before he knew what was happening, she surged towards him and they were kissing.

Kissing this Earth’s Sara was not like kissing the Sara on Earth-63. That Sara was gentler, not hardened by years on a remote island inhabited by training assassins. This Sara’s strength was apparent in her touch, one hand on his cheek, the other on the back of his neck.

Everything came flooding back to him, the smirks exchanged over the holo table during team meetings, fighting back to back against Savage’s army — not even fighting with Mick was as effortless. Everything about this Sara he’d ever thought and felt came back.

He pulled away. He met her eyes, seeing the sadness had returned.

“Sara—”

She shook her head, opening her mouth to speak and closing it again before she brushed past him.

Leonard watched her go for a moment before he sighed and continued towards his room.

—

He didn’t leave his quarters at all after his interaction with Sara. A couple hours later, Ray poked his head into the room.

“Hey,” he said, “So I’ve been talking to Gideon and we think we figured out a way to get you back to Earth-63— if you wanted.”

Leonard didn’t say anything so he continued.

“And we think we figured out a way to sort of reset the timeline there, so if you wanted to stay here, it’ll be like nothing ever happened. Nobody gets hurt. I could explain how it all works if you wanted—”

“No thanks.”

“Yeah, sorta figured,” he shrugged, “Anyway, I know it’s a tough decision so take your time.”

He backed out of the room and the metal doors slid closed.

A few minutes later, he heard another voice in the doorway.

“Hey.”

Leonard turned his head to see Sara in the spot Ray had just left.

“I’m sorry about—” she hesitated, “I’m sorry about before. I…your expression when…I’m just sorry. Ray told me about Earth-63, how you’re married to…to that version of me, and about your daughter.”

He nodded slowly.

“What’s her name?” Sara asked, moving farther into the room.

“Avery Felicity Lance,” he replied, unable to conceal the small smile that appeared on his face.

“Felicity?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re closer with her on my — that — Earth than here.”

“The timelines are different?”

He nodded.

“How?” she asked, “How did I end up — not what I am today.”

“You didn’t go on the boat.”

Sara went still. Leonard knew she had always wondered who she would be had she not gone on the Queen’s Gambit with Oliver. Maybe this was it. Maybe she would finish college, become a cop, have a daughter.

She wouldn’t meet him though. He knew that much. His past on Earth-63 was bad, but his past here was much, much worse. Putting aside other discrepancies that would stand between them meeting (for one, he was pretty sure he’d never even seen the apartment building he and his sister had lived in on Earth-63, the one where he and Sara had met), there was no possibility Sara would give him the time of day. None.

“What else?” she asked.

“Your parents are still divorced and your mom still lives in Central City, but your dad is married to Felicity’s mother.”

“Really?” Sara interjected, “I don’t think they even know each other here.”

“Tommy’s alive,” he continued. She nodded, “He’s married to your sister.”

He saw her eyes widen slightly, her lips parting.

“What?”

“My sister died,” she told him, “sometime during the first few months of the mission. I found out after you…after the Oculus.”

“I’m sorry.”

Sara nodded, then shook her head, straightening.

“What else?” she asked, “So I didn’t go on the boat. What’d I end up doing?”

“You’re a cop,” he replied.

“Really?”

He nodded, “Actually, a homicide detective. you led the case to catch Captain Cold.”

“Is that how we met?” she asked, laughing.

“No,” he smirked.

“Why do I feel like that’s a long story,” she replied. He nodded, the smirk becoming a smile before he could stop it. “What about my — her — daughter? How old is she?”

“Four,” he replied, “Turns five in March.”

“Can I see her?”

Leonard pulled his phone out of his back pocket and opened a folder of photos he had of Avery. He knew there were a few photos of Sara — Earth-63 Sara — in there as well.

He watched as Sara looked at the pictures.

“She’s cute,” she told him, smiling as she swiped through the blurry selfies Avery had taken in the few seconds before Leonard noticed, “Baby pictures?”

Sara tipped the phone towards him so he could see a photo of Avery when she was a little over a year old, standing on chunky little legs in Dinah Lance’s kitchen. Her light brown curls were shorter, but just as wild.

He nodded.

“Huh,” she said, “I just never saw you as the kind of dad who had baby pictures on his phone.”

He didn’t. Well, not really. He had pictures of Avery now, mostly ones she’d taken herself. The only baby pictures he had of her were sent by Sara — Avery had needed them for a homework assignment.

“Do you know who her…” Sara hesitated, “biological dad is?”

“Yeah,” he replied. He sensed her next question and shook his head, “Doesn’t matter who.”

Sara nodded. A moment later, her face clouded over.

“Oh God, tell me it’s not Oliver.”

“It’s not Oliver,” he chuckled.

Sara stilled. Leonard remembered that the version of him Sara remembered rarely ever laughed or smiled (besides out of sarcasm, anyway).

He watched her sigh.

“You’re not staying,” she said. It wasn’t a question. She already knew the answer.

“No.”

“Because of them.”

“I love them,” he said, “more than I thought I ever could.”

She exhaled.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“No, I get it,” she shook her head. She waited a beat and then continued, “You should know — and I’m not saying this to convince you to stay, I swear — it really sucks not having you on the Waverider. It does. There’s too many Ray’s on board now. I wish you were here to balance things out.”

He chuckled.

“You still have Mick,” he replied.

“Mick’s not as good at pushing buttons as you were,” she shook her head, smiling slightly, “Team hasn’t been the same without you.”

He didn’t respond. There wasn’t anything he could say.

Sara spoke again.

“I wish I hadn’t left.”

“The Oculus?”

“No — well, yes — but I mean my room. When you came to talk to me.”

“Oh.”

“I always wondered…” she trailed off momentarily, “if I hadn’t left and we had kept talking and…stuff, would you still have taken Mick’s place.”

Leonard didn’t answer immediately. His conversation with Sara then had gone exactly how he thought it would, but if it hadn’t, if it had gone differently, maybe he would have made a different choice.

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly, “But you should know I meant what I said about thinking about you. I think that’s why I did what I did on the bridge, pulling the cold gun on you.”

“You know, I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to justify that kind of thing,” Sara said, her lips turning up in a smirk.

“I’m not,” he replied, “I was a jerk —”

“Guilty,” Sara cut in, still smirking, and Leonard felt a pang in his chest.

“I was a jerk,” he repeated, “but I think I was trying to convince myself that I didn’t care as much as I did.”

“And did it work.”

“No.”

“Captain,” Gideon’s voice rang out across the room, “Ray would like you to know that the tech to send Mr. Snart back to Earth-63 is ready.”

“Okay,” Sara replied. She met Leonard’s eyes, “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

—

“You’re sure this is what you want?” Ray asked when he and Sara were on the bridge. Leonard said nothing but raised an eyebrow at him, “Okay, well, you should know Gideon wants to erase your memories — you know, of this Earth.”

“Why?”

“After we bring you to Earth-63, we can’t come back, and there’s no way for you to get in contact with us. That’s not gonna be a problem if you don’t remember any of us and all of this. Besides, I can’t imagine wanting to have memories of two lives in a world where only one happened.”

“Fine.”

“Alright, so we figured out a way to sort of…beam you into Earth-63 in the exact place you left, and we’ll erase your memory then.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Ray repeated. He took on a look that conveyed a taxing internal debate before stepping forward and hugging Leonard.

“That was unnecessary,” he grumbled when Ray relinquished him.

Mick then moved forwards.

“I’m glad you’re not dead,” he told him as Leonard shook his hand.

“Me too. Tell my sister what happened.”

“ ‘Course.”

Jax and Stein both shook Leonard’s hand and then stepped back.

Sara started moving towards him, arms crossed in front of her.

“We’re gonna miss you around here,” she said. She stopped when she was just in front of him and turned to Ray. “He’s not gonna remember anything?”

“Not anything, just nothing from this Earth. Gideon said tha—”

“Perfect,” Sara breathed, grabbing Leonard’s face and capturing his lips with hers.Leonard gave into the kiss that time, snaking his arms around her waist.

“What the hell?” he heard a voice that sounded suspiciously like Nate whisper.

Sara’s hands trailed from his face to around his neck as she deepened the kiss. Leonard remembered the last time he had kissed Sara, when they were at the Oculus. He remembered when she pulled away, their eyes meeting. He remembered trying to memorize every inch of her in the seconds before she left.

Sara pulled away, untwining her arms from around his shoulders. Leonard didn’t move his hands from her waist. He met her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low. She shook her head.

“Don’t,” she replied just as softly, “It’s okay.”

Finally, he let his arms drop and Sara stepped away from him.

“Ready?” Ray asked again.

“Yeah,” Leonard nodded.

Ray lifted his arm. In his hand was a small white gun with a wide, box-shaped barrel that looked not unlike the one Rip Hunter had used on him when he was first pulling together the team.

Leonard’s eyes flicked to Sara. Her expression was the same as when they were at the Oculus.

She gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod. He heard the click of the trigger, and as he turned back to Ray, a flash of white light completely consumed his vision.

—

“Hey,” Sara said, her hand moving to his arm. He met her eyes, seeing concern written on her face, “You okay? It looked like we lost you for a second.”

Leonard processed again where he was, saw the twinkling lights hung around them, illuminated by the steadily setting sun, heard the last few notes of Al Green’s Let’s Stay Together beginning to fade. He looked back to Sara, saw her in her wedding dress, felt the weight of her hand on his arm, and smiled.

“Just realizing how lucky I am,” he said.

“Oh really?” Sara asked, a smirk on her lips and eyebrows raised, “And why is that?”

“I dunno,” he replied, his arms moving to around her waist, “maybe because you’re beautiful and smart and strong.”

“I’m also your wife,” Sara replied, the smirk turning into a smile as she looped her arms around his neck.

“You’re proving my argument,” he murmured against her lips before Sara kissed him.

—

“Would you like me to land, Captain,” Gideon asked.

Sara didn’t answer immediately, looking out the jumpship window at the couple on the dance floor.

“Uh…no, Gideon,” she replied, “We’re leaving in a second.”

She continued looking at the scene below her. She’d never seen a more beautiful wedding before, with the lights and lanterns hanging from the rustic wooden frame lighting up the shiny black and white dance floor and the tables and chairs filled with people. She didn’t consider herself to be a wedding person — she hadn’t really even thought about the possibility of having one since before the Gambit. Maybe this version of her was.

She saw her father dancing with a blonde woman she had to assume was Felicity’s mother — Leonard really wasn’t kidding about that, she supposed.

Her eyes landed on Laurel then, and she felt tears pricking her eyes. She was dancing with Tommy a couple yards away from Leonard and this Earth’s Sara. She was laughing at something Tommy had said as they swayed back and forth to the music.

“Gideon, is there any way I can hear what’s going on down there — without them noticing, obviously.”

There was a click and then the first chorus of The Way You Look Tonight started playing  in the jumpship.

“Daddy!” Sara heard a high voice call. She watched a little girl run across the dance floor and jump into Leonard’s arms.

Even from a distance, Avery Lance looked just like her picture, with wild brown curls and shining eyes.

“Mama,” Avery said, “watch this!”

She squirmed out of Leonard’s arms and took his hand, twirling underneath it.

Sara watched her Earth-63 counterpart smile.

“Wow, Avie,” she said heard her say, “That’s so cool.”

Sara sat down in the pilot’s chair.

He made the right choice, she decided as she watched Leonard with this Earth’s Sara, Avery hanging onto his arm, chattering indistinguishably about something in the little girl manner she’d never been able to understand. He’d never looked that happy before, a genuine smile on his face as he looked to his wife.

“Gideon,” Sara said, “I’m ready to go.”

The jumpship jolted into motion, and as Avery’s little voice was carried into the wind with the music, Sara left Leonard for the last time.

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

Mechanic!harry and YN on their day off and Harry can't help but attack his sleepy girl with morning kisses bc he's Whipped™ af 😩😩

Harry hadn’t planned on having Friday off.

The way everything had worked out at the shop throughout the week, with how many cars he’d been in charge of, he had planned on going in early today to finish up an oil change on a Honda Civic and tire replacements on a Toyota Camry. He would’ve managed to finish by noon, if nothing else arose, and been able to pick up some lunch on his way home to get ready for his and Y/N’s usual Friday movie nights at a nearby theatre.

But when his phone randomly started shrieking at seven in the morning, exactly an hour before he had to be up for work, he immediately felt a cold sting of dread shoot through his veins.

Harry had rubbed at his tired eyes, bringing the sleek black device up to his face and focusing on Liam’s bleary contact picture (a picture he was quite proud of considering it was so rare to catch a shot of someone mid-sneeze). He’d swiped his thumb across the screen, pressing the cold glass surface against his ear and shivering instinctively.

“Hello?” His voice was a deep, garbled mess of sleep and exhaustion and Liam could barely understand the word.

“Harry?”

“No, it’s the Queen.” Harry quips back sarcastically, sighing heavily as he knuckles at his half-shut eyes, trying to rid the sleep from his mind. He then hears faint snickering in the background, which he recognizes as Niall.

To confirm his allegation, the blonde boy’s thick Irish accent crackles through the phone in the form of a mocking cackle. “Someone forgot to iron the Queen’s knickers, it seems.”

Harry ignores the comment, his words coming out with an annoyed bite. “What d’you want?”

“Well, if you’re gonna have that attitude, then I guess I won’t tell you that you don’t have to come into today. See you in an hour, prick.”

He stops his fist mid-rub against his eyelid. “Wait, wait! What?”

”Me and Niall just finished up some of our stuff and thought we could help you out. Finish your cars for you so you won’t have to come in later.”

“Are you serious?” Harry glances behind his shoulder at the softly snoring mound of comforter, pillows and hair that is his sleeping girlfriend, feeling a small, muted pang of excitement inflate in his chest. “That’d be fucking incredible. Thanks so much, Li. God, I owe you big time.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just thank God I offered before Nick did. He did the same for Niall a while back and you should’ve heard what he was gonna make him do to compensate.”

Harry hears a sharp whine in the background of Liam’s side of the call, then Niall’s voice comes through, full of hurt panic and shocked anger. ”I told you not to talk about that ever fuckin’ again!”

”Only because you were willing to do it.” Liam chuckles softly, then the distinct sound of a whack echoes through the phone’s speaker. ”Ow!”

“Okay, well,” Harry interrupts his friends’ scuffle with a light cough, “thanks again. I’d stick around to hear what Niall almost did with Nick but I’m too tired and sleepy and, frankly, am not up to handling your idiocy right now so goodnight.”

“It’s not even night anym—“

Harry hangs up, cutting off Niall’s snarky comment halfway finished.

He places his phone back on the nightstand and yanks the covers over his bare shoulders, snuggling into the mattress and scooting closer to Y/N. He snakes an arm around her warm hips, sighing deeply with content as he pulls her body against his, the comforting heat she radiates mixing with her soft, soothing scent of rosemary and cocoa butter lotion, sinking into his chest and arms and lulling his mind back into a relaxed sleep.

///

Harry wakes up a few hours after, sunlight streaming in through the cracks in the blinds of the bedroom window, casting a muted haze all across the room as it filters through the sheer cream curtains.

His eyes blink open all slow and lazy, cloudy vision gradually clearing up to focus on the blurry shape before him.

Sometime during their slumber, Y/N had managed to roll over in his arms, cuddling further into him until the side of her face was pressed against the front of his naked shoulder. Her own arms are tucked against his warm chest as it rises and falls with a relaxed rhythm, her legs tangled between both of his as her cold feet try to warm themselves up against his calves.

She’s snoring ever-so-softly, her entire face slack with sleep, her eyelashes sitting perfectly pretty on the tops of her lightly flushed cheeks. Her lips are part a bit, her breathing deep as she inhales through her mouth and exhales through her nose, her shoulders rising and falling with the action. Her hair is in a sloppy bun with pieces and strands falling out, framing her cheeks in a manner he finds almost artistic. To him, she looks unbelievably beautiful in her sleep— so pure and mellow and effortlessly gorgeous that it’s border-lining ethereal.

And then she randomly chokes on her breathing, letting out a sharp snort, her face scrunching up and nose wiggling.

Ethereal indeed.

Harry can feel a warm glow start to spread across his entire chest, filling his lungs with a certain form of endeared love that comes out as a gentle chuckle. He reaches a hand up from where it was perched on her supple waist, the duvet sliding down his arm and exposing it to the cold air, causing his fingers to twitch. He takes her chin between his thumb and forefinger, sliding the bigger digit across her bottom lip and across her jaw.

The soothing action causes her to unconsciously cradle her face against the palm of his big hand, her body naturally reacting to his familiar cozy touch.

Harry can’t help himself— she’s just so damn cute. He reaches forward, his gaze flickering from her tinted lips to her closed eyelids and then back down, anticipation causing him to lick his own.

He then sifts his mouth between her’s, sucking at her bottom lip gently and feeling a wave of buzzing wash across his entire face. Her lips are so soft and warm and they feel like home; it doesn’t take a tongue kiss get him melting because, for some magical and unknown reason, something as simple as touching his mouth to her’s is more than enough.

Harry didn’t intend for it to go much further than that. He just wanted a sleepy kiss that he could lock away in his heart to fond over later. But Y/N has him so wrapped around her finger— so utterly, helplessly, whip-cream whipped— he should’ve known it wouldn’t end there. Should’ve know one wouldn’t be enough.

So he gives in, bringing his whole hand up against the side of her face to cup her entire jaw, moving noddles of her hair back from her cheek and tucking them behind her ear in order to get full access. Then, he surges forward and suckles her mouth into his— nothing harsh, but just gentle sucking that should be just enough for her to stir awake.

Harry licks across the outside of Y/N’s top lip, feeling a blush crawling up his neck as his body instinctively reacts to her touch. He pastes several gooey pecks on her mouth, then drifts down across her chin and up the supple mounds of her cheeks, then brushes his damp lips across her eyelids. Down the bridge of her nose, across her creasing forehead, then pooling light kisses in the area right behind her jaw and just under her ear where he knows she’s ticklish.

The disturbance of this particularly soft spot succeeds in stirring Y/N from her slumber, an airy groan stringing her dormant vocal chords, the sound thick and heavy with sleep. Her eyelids crack open slowly, one at a time, trying to see what had woken her up. Her mind is still floating around in her dreams, her brain trying to reign into reality and get her body to respond.

Meanwhile, Harry is still entertaining himself with showering her in kisses, sponging his lips down her neck and across her throat, suckling the skin with need and humming deeply with satisfaction.

The vibrations make the first few sleepy giggles finally escape Y/N.

He grins against her blushing juglar, kissing everywhere with more fervor and swimming in the way she starts to squirm and laugh harder, little blurbs of words managing to get by. “Har—! Harry, what are you doing?!”

“Nothing.” He quips back simply, shifting around and swinging one of his legs to straddle her hips, quickly moving to pin her down against the bed and continue his assault, answering between kisses. “Just— having some— fun— s’all.”

Y/N’s a mess of giggles and shrieks, writhing around in his grasp as he traps her in place with his thighs, pinning her shoulders down with his forearms and cupping her face with his big palms, keeping her from shrinking into herself to escape his attack. “It tickles!”

“Does it now?” He chuckles sarcastically, bringing his face level with her’s and returning her helpless expression with a mocking quirk of his brows.

“Yes! It’s does!” She pants, swallowing thickly and trying to force the smile from her face because it’s probably not helping her case at all, but rather egging him on.

“Good.” Harry states simply, then bends down and glues sloppy kisses all over her face— her cheeks, nose, chin, eyes— everywhere until she’s begging him, between heaps of snorty laughter, to let her breathe.

He lays out on top of her body, his chin resting on her upper chest, right in front of her face. He gives her a grin so innocent and bright that she can’t help but return it, too in love and too happy to even try and pretend to be grumpy. “I thought you said you had work today?”

“Liam called me earlier and said he and Niall would cover for me. I have the whole day off.” Harry’s trailing one of his index fingers up her bare arm, following the slope of her neck (and smirking when her shoulders jolt in anticipation of another round of kisses), curving around the back of her right ear and down her cheekbone, climbing the side of her nose and finally bopping it. “Thought I’d put a little more excitement into our morning.”

“By stampeding me with your mouth?” Y/N deadpans, her lips twitching with fondness.

“The best kind of stampede there is, if you ask me.”

“Hm.”

“Well,” he squeezes her nose in playful spite, “if you’re gonna be rude about it, guess you can make your own chocolate fudge pancakes, then.”

Harry goes to get up and head for the door, smiling to himself triumphantly when he feels the weight of her hand land softly on his bicep. Her voice speaks up with curious meekness. “Chocolate fudge?”

He casts a side-glance over his shoulder, back muscles contracting and flexing in an unintentional yet alluring manner, nodding his head and shrugging his brows in confirmation. “With white chocolate chips, a side of my famous Three-Pepper and Pepperoni Scrambled Eggs, and some pomegranate apple juice I picked up yesterday.”

Y/N sits forward, her head perking up slightly as her eyes fill with the familiar child-like excitement he’s so fond of. “Pomegranate apple juice?”

Harry turns fully now, his baggy sweatpants sitting low on his hips as he reaches up and pushes his messy tuffs of ringlets back from his forehead, Y/N watching with her heart fluttering in her chest as they curl to form swirls that look similar to cinnamon rolls.

He looks good enough to eat— with the tiny dimples on his stomach, his subtle love handles looking so soft and supple, and his tattoos flexing with his movements. Y/N might just skip the whipped cream on her pancakes and settle licking him up instead.

He watches with smug amusement as she ogles him from the bed, the comforter clutched tight in her fists as licks her lips slowly, eyes pasted to the dip of his hips.

“I was even gonna sit you down and feed you,” he drawls on, tutting with fake sympathy. “Sit you right there on the counter and stand between your legs and cut the pancakes into little pieces, just how you like it, and give ‘em to you. But I guess you can do that by yourself, then.”

“Okay, okay.” She says, rolling her eyes but humoring him nonetheless. “ I’m sorry.”

Harry purses his lips in faux thought, pretending to be thinking her apology over. He then crosses his arms over his broad chest, tilting his head to the side cockily, a lopsided smirk curving his rosy lips. “Say you love my kisses.”

“I love your kisses.”

He’s surprised by her immediate compliance— so immediate that he decides to push it a little further.

Harry falls to his knees on the edge of the bed, pushing himself onto all fours and crawling toward his girlfriend slowly, the mattress dipping with his weight. The sun glints off of his tanned skin perfectly, highlighting the lighter shades of brown in his hair and reflecting off the subtle scruff along his jaw. He comes close to Y/N until his hands are propped on either side of her thighs, his face a few inches from her’s. When he speaks, his voice has dropped to a low hum so deep that she can feel it in the pit of her stomach. “What else d’you love about me?”

“I love your pancakes.” She cuts through the tension easily, smiling brightly with all her teeth and attempting to get up but finding herself blocked between Harry’s arms, his shoulder pressing against her chest and shoving her back lightly.

The jade of Harry’s eyes are glimmering with a predatory-like slyness, giving away that they won’t be leaving the bedroom to make pancakes anytime soon. He pushes forward closer, resulting in her having to inch backwards until her back is pinned against the headboard. “What else?”

“I love your hair.” Y/N answers, the corners of her lips twitching up tauntingly as she refuses to give him what he wants. “It’s soft and pretty and smells like apples.”

But Harry is also refusing to back down.

He nudges her nose with his own, trailing it across her sensitive cheeks and brushing his wet lips over her’s, letting the breath of his words wash across them. “And…?”

“And…” Y/N swallows thickly, fisting at the rumpled sheets below her seated thighs as her boyfriend pushes every single one of her buttons like it’s his job. “And your eyes are really pretty, too. They’re really green, kinda like a rainforest green but with—“

“What about my lips?” He interrupts, gazing at her with arrogance flashing in the golden specks of his irises. “D’you love those?”

She shrugs lightly, nodding her head a bit. “Yeah, I guess so. They’re super pink and soft.”

“Hmmm,” Harry hums in amusement, drifting his mouth down the curve of her neck, his nose brushing across her itching skin. “Do you love it when my lips do this?”

He reaches up and hooks a finger into the collar of her oversized P!NK t-shirt, moving the fabric away from her flesh and exposing her shoulder to the chilled air of the room, though the atmosphere is tense and heavy. He pastes gooey kisses on the bare skin, feeling a certain static sting his lips as her body begins to quiver with sensual electricity.

“Y-Yeah…” She breaths out shakily, her head tilting to the side to allow him all the access he wants. “I love it…”

Harry blows on the wet patch lightly, chuckling deep in his stomach when a tiny whimper escapes her bitten lips. He then pulls away, balancing himself on his knees to tower over her. He grabs her hips, pulling her down between his parted thighs until she’s fully on her back against the mattress, looking up at him with wide, doe-like eyes that make his jaw clench and it takes every ounce of will power in him not to shove his cock in her mouth, right then and there. He restrains, however, because he wants to make this a slow burn, both for him and for her.

Harry scoots backwards a few inches until he’s positioned accordingly, then bends forward onto all fours again, bracketing her in between his lean arms and thick thighs. He leans his head down, pinching either side of her shirt between his thumb and forefinger and lifting it up to expose the pudge of her tummy— the same tummy that he loves so fucking much and that he knows is extra sensitive to touch.

He places his hot lips against her stomach, glancing up at her from under his thick lashes, reaching up and shoving a hand through his locks, combing them back from his face. “How about this? Do you love it when they do this?”

He proceeds to sponge his mouth across her tummy, circling her belly button and suckling the skin along her abdomen, loving how she’s jolting against his tongue.

Y/N gulps audibly, her words coming out as a quiet squeak. “Yeah…”

“Good,” he murmurs, continuing to sweep his mouth against her delicate stomach, one of his hands reaching down to pull the comforter over his back to hang across his shoulders.

Then, he begins to untie her Garfield pajama pants painstakingly slow, pulling the loop loose with his teeth as his fingers wriggle into the waistband of the bottoms as well as of her panties, starting to slide them down her hips.

Y/N is gripping onto the sheets for dear life, watching with a bitten lip as Harry nuzzles between her thighs, sucking at her love handles and puckering his mouth against her lower abdomen.

Soon enough he has her pants down her clenching thighs, then over her quaking knees and finally at her ankles, where he sits back onto his heels and presses her feet flat against his bare chest, tugging each cuff off one by one. The bottoms, along with her underwear, are discarded over the edge of the bed, leaving her legs naked to tremble in the cool morning chill of their room.

Harry looks down at his quivering girlfriend with a haughty haze clouding his celadon eyes as he grips each of her legs in his huge hands, turning his face to press a kiss to the knobs of each ankle. He then starts trailing downward, inching forward on his knees with the comforter still hanging over his broad back, casting a dark shadow over Y/N and blocking out the sunlight behind him.

He skims down her calves, licking at them lightly and throwing her legs fully over his shoulders so that her knees bend over them. He collapses onto his stomach on the bed, pushing forward until her thighs are squeezing his neck in anticipation. Harry grabs the duvet in his large fists, pulling it above his head and finally looking up at her.

The dark condescending glint in his irises causes her legs to jerk.

Harry gives her a casual simper, caressing her inner thighs with his lips. “And do you love this?”

He yanks the covers over his head, disappearing under the thick comforter and leaving her utterly blind to what his next actions will be.

She stares up at the creme ceiling with her entire body jittering with anxiousness, glancing down momentarily to see him moving under the blanket. Y/N can feel him shifting her thighs more comfortably over his shoulders, trying to find the perfect alcove to settle into. He drapes his arms over the tops of her thighs, gripping the inner part with his long fingers. Her heels are pressed to the flexing muscles of his back, knees parted to give him as much space as he needs.

All that’s left is for him to do what she knows is coming, but he’s taking his sweet time in order to torture her.

Y/N’s hips are bucking lightly and squirming in premonition, thigh muscles clenching every time Harry as much as breathes.

“Harry…” She whines, toes curling against his sweaty skin and she can feel his back muscles tighten under her heels. “Harry, please…”

There’s a pause in the moment, time seeming to be standing still, and then she can feel his warm breath wash over her dripping core, meaning his lips should be coming any second now.

One of Y/N’s hands jumps into action, shoving under the duvet and wildly grabbing at his hair, twisting the curls between her fingers as she feel his lips brush her folds.

And then he’s sinking nose deep into her cunt without warning, taking her entirely in his mouth and swirling his tongue against the swollen bud of her clit, lapping with wild fervor and suckling roughly.

Her back arches upwards, all control gone from her body as Harry weans it out of her with his prodding tongue and massaging lips, simmering pleasure taking over all of her senses.

She yanks harshly at his curls, throwing her head back as she feels him groaning into her core, his breathing stuttering due to the heat radiating under the comforter.

When he talks, it’s muffled from his full mouth and muted through the blanket, but Y/N already knows what he’s telling her to say. The way he smirks against her cunt gives it all away.

“God, H-Harry, yes! I fucking love it!”

[dangerousreputation]

You - Evan Peters

this wasnt requested but i’ve watched murder house in three days and the i watched asylm in three days and now im on freakshow but i would never expect myself to watch a horror show..,., bc i hate horror but EVAN PETERS FRIIIIICK 

anyways this is kinda long but i love evan peters w all my heart and i dont like him w emma roberts sorry loooool

requests are open yalllll hmu

You had moved on. He was no longer in your day to day thoughts. Although it was hard, seeing him in commercials for the new season of America Horror Story and hearing about him in the news, you where done with him.

He seemed to have moved on fast though, the recent photos of him holding hands, kissing, and hugging his co-star had surfaced all over the pop culture news. It hurt. It had only been about a month and a half maybe two since you broke things off with him. You broke things off with him. It was often hard to remember that small detail to the destruction that was your relationship.

It was hard to move on, but you did.

Your new happiness looked at you from across the table and smiled at you, the candle light illuminating the features on his face that were more prominent than others. His thumb swiped over the dips in your knuckles on this top of your hand as you two discussed the recent episodes of your favorite tv show.

Catching a cab back to your apartment and giving each other a kiss goodbye, you hauled your body up the stairs and into your apartment. Everything was okay between you two, not as exhilarating or emotional as you and Evan were, but okay nonetheless. You weren’t bored but you craved something else, something that was greater or equal that the relationship that you had with Evan but unfortunately, that only comes once in a life time.

Setting down your keys, wallet and coat then heading into your bedroom, you let your body fall onto the comforter and occupied yourself on your phone. After 15 short minutes of your scrolling social medias sprinkled with old photos of you and your ex that fans still seemed to tag you in, a knock thundered through your apartment walls startling you. You frowned, huffed, set your phone down next to your head before walking to your front door.

You swung it open revealing a very frazzled-looking Evan Peters. You heart seemed to drop to your toes, your eyes blowing wide, and your whole body seemed to freeze and become stiff. His hair was thrown in all directions on his head and the bags under his eyes screamed for sleep, his shoulders where slumped causing his collarbones to become more prominent, peeking out from the loose t-shirt he was wearing. His eyes dropped and his chapped lips parted to ask; “Can I please come in?”

You could only nod your head. This boy, this man, who broke your heart for his own selfish needs was coming into your house, and you just let him. The breakup caused you to have weeks of not going out, staying in your bed, eating at most 2 meals a day, and distancing yourself from you friends and family. He was your everything, your whole world.

His boots stomped on the wooden floors and the smell of him filed your living room. He stopped to turn to you, grabbing something out of his jacket pocket, revealing a single key. The spare key he had.

“I found this on the counter top at my house and I thought that it would be best for you to have it back.” he mumbled, tone as cold as ice. His eyes looked darker than normal, instead of looking taunting and captivating they resembled the color or space, distant and lonely.

“Thanks.” your voice cutting the air between you two, crossing you arms.

“Uh, how have you been?” he asks awkwardly, stuffing his hands into his pockets and rocking back and fourth on his feet.

“I’m good, happy. How are you and her?” your question seeming to catch him by surprise by the widening of his eyes.

“We’re… good.” he sighs, reaching up to rub his arm before saying, “how did you do it so fast?”

“Do what?”

“Find someone else… and be genuinely happy with them again?” his voice gaining tension.

“Me? You seemed to have moved on faster than I did. I could ask you the same thing.”

“She was always there. She was always just around me. I knew that she liked me for a while now and because she has the same profession as me, I knew that she would understand me more.” he shrugs.

His voice, the tone, and the bitterness left your whole body prickling with anger. Understand him more? You’re not with someone for three years just to not understand them at all. You cheeks and the tips of your ears started to burn with anger as you shoved your arms to fold against your chest.

“I’m glad someone could finally understand you and know what you want, because God knows I never did.” you spit.

“Oh yeah? What about him? Does he understand you like I didn’t?”

“Yes he does.” you state calmly.

“I highly doubt that. One second you love someone, you pull them in as close to you as they can be, and then you’re so desperate for attention all the damn time, when you don’t get it, you think you’re not loved. You cut that person out of your life.” You felt a tear gather in the corner of your eye and you breathing become heavier.

“You didn’t love me Evan, you don’t leave someone you love alone for drinks with your buddies almost every night of the week, you don’t tell a loved one they make you depressed and a shitty person. Thats not love.”

“Does he love you!?”

“Yes! He does, better than you ever did!” you yelled.

“Do you even love him?!” he screams.

You stop. The pause was a dead give away for him, “Of course I do.” you say.

He smirks sarcastically before muttering, “Yeah right.”

“It doesn’t matter! He loves me way better than you ever did!”

“Don’t pull that shit with me, I was the one who had to put up with you ass all the time and all I ever got was complaints so excuse me for not wanting to be all warm and cuddly every time I saw you.” he frowns, the shadow covering the tops of his eyes.

“Whatever.” you roll your eyes and start to walk around the counter back to your room.

He huffed and started to grab his things.

“Tell me, if you are so in love with her, why are you over here? Why, something so small and irrelevant, distracts you from your soulmate to come over here and interact with me again? Don’t you love her?!” you shout, your head and heart spinning.

“I love you!” he yells and slams his stuff against the floor. “I love you.” he says slower.

And you pause because this was the last thing you expected him to say. All of the hours and days of being apart, longing for him to come running through the door and apologize, or to beg for you to give him another chance, or something extraordinary, to result in this. The pace of your heartbeat quickened and your words and breathing seemed to have a bumper car effect in your throat.

“It’s been hell. Acting like I’m okay, acting like I’m not dying on the inside without you. You where the only thing in my life that kept me sane through all of this and I’m an idiot for only realizing it now. I love you and what I did to you was disgusting and I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I promise I have changed, I have. I jus-“

“What about her?” you whisper as a tear rolled down you cheek.

“Nothing. She doesn’t compare to you. She’s not you. I need you.” he says with red brimmed eyes and quaking lips.

He reaches his hand out to you which you take hesitantly, he pulled you into him and you realize that his arms wrapped around you again was all you needed to gain your sanity back. Wrapped in a flannel and grey t-shirt, the warmth of his body brought a small smile on your face and you cried. Cried because you know that you shouldn’t give in so easily, cried because you missed him so fucking much, and because you realized how much you loved him. He was broken without you and you weren’t in any better shape.

“I’m not going to jump into a relationship with you right away.” you mumble into his shoulder and you feel him nod.

“I understand but I can’t live with someone else having you to call theirs.”

You smile and kiss the curve of his jaw, “You won’t have to worry about it.”