#homelander half-crying: what the fuck are you talking about

[ficyorick]

locked in for a bit of a writing session on this fine Saturday evening !!!! i genuinely dont know why its so hard for me to finish this chapter, maybe bc there's so much ryan here and its HARD to write for that little guy bc they dont give him much in the show... ;-;

well anyways at least the wlws continue to torment HL

[annwrites]

⸻ tell me i'm your national anthem. part two. ⸻

· pairing: homelander x collegestudent!reader · type: part of a series · summary: you & john have dinner together again & you finally come to understand him a bit better. at the very least, what you think he wants. and he lets you in just once, wondering if you can be trusted after all. · word count: 2,736

You sleep fitfully that night.

It takes hours before your body manages to calm enough for you to find rest after having exhausted yourself from crying, hugging a pillow to your chest for comfort—utterly terrified that he’ll come back.

Every small noise you hear makes you shoot up in bed, staring at your now-curtained balcony doors, praying to God that he’s gone. That he hadn’t meant what he said about returning. He’d been bluffing, you’re sure.

You need for him to have not been serious.

You drag the next day during your classes.

You stay fairly to yourself, not wishing to talk to anyone. But, of course, all that any of them have on their minds, and seem able to discuss as you pass them in the halls is him. Including your best friend, Emma.

It only serves to turn your stomach. The fact that she worships the ground that his corrupting boots walk upon—that she has no idea that he’s a soulless monster. That he had so easily threatened your life before proceeding to humiliate you before stealing away your first sexual experience for his own benefit.

He’d done it to be cruel, you’re sure. To disrespect you like he’d felt you’d done toward him.

As if refusing to make eye contact while hundreds of others gazed upon him with admiration was anything like what he’d done to you.

Trying to wrap your mind around the incredible difference between who he is in front of a camera versus who he had turned into in your apartment last night… He’s a psychopath, clearly. All you can manage to return to time and again was him staring at you with red eyes, threatening your life. A threat that had rolled off his tongue as easily as asking you about the weather.

You wonder how many lives he’s taken that no one knows about, or that Vought has taken diligent measures to cover up. Wondering why they do it—why they would protect him—has a simple answer: he’s indestructible…right? A man with that much power, and with no remorse—with no weaknesses—is a terrifying thought.

You really fucking hope you never see him again. That whatever he was after he managed to get out of his system last evening. After all, what’re you compared to Queen Maeve, or a model, or fellow actress, or supe?

Thankfully, it’s a slow day at work. Usually it is, in truth. Not many people seem to have much of an appreciation for buying and collecting antiques anymore. Unless it’s Christmas time…the store is almost always dead. A fact you’re quite grateful for today as you arrange a shelf of Precious Moments figurines, avoiding the section of the store dedicated to superheros at all costs.

You ring up maybe half-a-dozen customers in not quite as many hours before heading home for the day, practically dead on your feet.

You take a long shower—the pleasant feel of the hot water nearly serves to put you to sleep—repeatedly telling yourself that you’re safe here. He’s not coming back. This is your home. You’re okay. Everything is okay. You’re sure he’s already forgotten about you by now, anyway.

When you emerge back into your bedroom dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of soft gray sweatpants—ready to just throw something in the microwave so you can go to bed straight after—you halt in your tracks when you see a silhouette with wide shoulders and a billowing cape on the other side of your closed curtains.

Your breath hitches in your throat.

You’re seeing things. He’s been on your mind all day and you’re exhausted on top of that, not to mention starving.

It’s not real. He’s not—

There’s a gentle knock against the glass. “I know you’re in there. I can hear your heart. So, you can either open the door, or I’ll just break a window and let myself in. But, then you’ll end up having to pay to replace the glass, and you’ll have to explain things to your landlord, and, well—”

You come over to the door then, frustrated tears stinging your eyes, and you flip the lock, heading in the direction of the kitchen without a word.

You know it’s useless to try and hide, or pretend like you’re not home.

He lets himself in, gently closing the door behind him.

“Honey, I’m home!” He says in a sing-song tune, following you into the kitchen, leaning against a counter with crossed arms and a smug look on his face.

“So, what’s for dinner?”

You open the freezer, throwing a microwavable dinner on the counter, refusing to even look at him.

And then he sighs, grabbing the meal away from you, throwing it back into the freezer.

He leans down toward you. “What? No home-cooked meal for your favorite superhero tonight? And after all that hard work I put into making a meal out of you just twenty-four hours ago.”

You grip the edges of the counter in each of your hands, dragging your nails across it. “I never asked for any of that. I begged you not to.”

He leans in closer, grabbing your hip painfully as he brings his lips to the shell of your ear. “You’re being very ungrateful right now.”

He pauses. “You’re hurting my feelings.”

Your chin wobbles and your stomach fills with lead.

“Now,” he starts again, sliding his gloved fingers into your hair, gently massaging your scalp. “You are going to be a good little girl and get to cooking. I’m not asking twice. I’ve been hard at work all day. It’s the least you can do for me after bothering to fly all the way here to keep you company.”

You bite your lower lip to try and keep your tears at bay. “What do you want from me?”

“I’ve already told you.”

You turn to the side, facing him, reluctantly looking up, meeting his empty blue eyes. “Thousands—no, millions—of women across the world would love nothing more than to throw themselves at you. To be at your beck and call. What the hell do you want with me?”

He gently caresses your chin between his fingers, smirking softly. “I’m no A-Train, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still love a good chase, sweetheart.”

He smacks your rear then, causing you to squeak in surprise. “Now, feed your man.”

You raid a brow at that. Your what?

You watch as he leans down, removing the milk jug from your fridge and you cross your arms. “I’m not doing all the work while you just sit there and watch.”

He looks at you with a displeased expression from your back-talk, but you don’t back down.

You remove a loaf of bread from the bread box, tossing it on the counter in front of him. “You’re in charge of making toast.”

Quite astonishingly, he doesn’t argue. Instead, he looks at you with a surprised look in his eyes and a gentle smile. “How many slices do you want?”

You have no idea that it gives him a sense of normalcy and home, even if just for a moment. Like you’re a mother instructing her child, giving them a small responsibility to see to at dinner time. You’re making him a part of the process, and he likes that. Appreciates it, even.

You’d begun giggling ridiculously from nerves in the middle of making spaghetti.

Homelander had looked at you with a raised brow and a sour look on his face, until you’d explained, with tears streaming down your own. “I’m cooking dinner with Homelander. You’re—”

You’d gasped for breath, doubling over. “You’re in my apartment! Making toast!”

And then you’d begun to actually cry—your exhaustion catching up to you all at once—hysterically, at that. He’d considered multiple courses of action. One: simply leaving. Two: threatening you to shut the hell up or he’d really give you something to cry about. He’d taken the third option with no fucking idea as to why.

He’d gathered you in his arms, ignored your tiny fists beating against his chest and your demands that he let you go, and held you until you calmed.

Once you did, and your breathing and heart-rate had both returned to normal—the smell of adrenaline no longer coming off of you in waves—he told you it was time to eat.

So, here you sit, slowly eating spaghetti and toast in silence with America’s poster boy.

He takes a long sip of milk, studying you.

“You’re very attractive,” he says, briefly pausing. “In an ordinary ‘girl-next-door’ sort of way, I suppose.”

Your eyes flit to his, swallowing your noodles. “T-thank you.”

He hums in response, a small smile on his lips, fingers splaying outward expectantly.

Your brows furrow for only a moment. “You’re…handsome.”

His smile fades at your unsure tone of empty platitudes. “Why don’t you like me?”

Oh God, not this again.

You shake your head, taking a bite of your toast. “You’re asking that after what you did to me?”

“You mean what I did for you? You seem to forget that I gave you an orgasm without so much as asking for anything in return.”

Bile rises in your throat. “You stole my first sexual experience away from me.”

“I think stolen is a nasty way to word it. I gifted it to you.”

You grip your fork tightly in your fist, having half-a-mind to drive it through the back of his hand. But you know you can’t. You don’t want to even imagine how such an action would end. Probably with your apartment becoming a bloody mess and your twenty-one-year-old life at an end before it ever got a chance to truly begin.

So you set the utensil down.

“You want me to like you?” You ask quietly, having no clue as to why your meaningless opinion of him should matter in the first place.

He shrugs lightly, brow twitching in response.

You fold your hands in your lap, leaning back, staring at him. “Tell me something, then. Something real and that no one else knows.”

He stays quiet, so you continue.

“Because the very opposite of that is why I dislike—no, scratch that—despise you: because you just look like an empty suit to me. Something manufactured by the media. A man unable to think for himself without a teleprompter in front of him instructing his every move.”

He grinds his teeth, his face twitching, his gloved hands now squeezed tightly into fists.

And you immediately fill with regret. Being exhausted typically left you one of three ways—all of which you’d experienced in one evening alone. Giggly and easily amused, emotional, or irritable.

The first two he’d tolerated. This one…you worry it ends with your landlord discovering your corpse the next time rent is due.

“You think they control me?” He asks with a sneer.

“I have yet to find a reason to think otherwise.”

“You think,” he says, leaning in toward you, his boot pressing against your foot beneath the table. “I’m just some puppet manufactured by Big Media? Hm?”

He stands abruptly, chair scraping loudly against the floor and you stand as well, your own toppling over in your panic as he backs you into a corner.

He must like doing this—intimidating. Invoking fear.

He chuckles, cupping your face in his hands. “I’ve done things… Things that would horrify you. Things that even Vought doesn’t know about.”

He shrugs. “They’re just the ones who sign my paychecks. See, they work for me. The whole fuckin’ world does. Including you, honey. I’m the real hero. My little tagline where I say otherwise? It’s bullshit. But the people eat it up. They swallow the garbage I feed them with a grateful smile. You think you’re so…different, though, don’t you?”

You brows furrow and you feel completely terrified, but quickly decide upon trying a new approach.

Aggression is getting you nowhere—it’s only begetting more on his part. And you worry how far you can push him before it ends in catastrophe.

And it’s then that you realize that he does have a weakness after all: he’s desperate for approval. Why the hell else would he be here yet again, demanding to know why he doesn’t yet have yours? Is he just that much of a narcissist, or is it something deeper?

You slowly reach up then, cupping his cheek, your other trembling hand coming to rest gently upon his chest.

Touching him in such a familiar fashion may end horribly for you, but something tells you it's well worth a try.

“What happened to you?” You ask in a whisper.

His features shift—softening—the look in his eyes that of…confusion. He even goes so far as to lean in slightly to your warm, comforting touch.

Your eyes flit between his, taken aback by his embracing your kind, physical gesture. “You haven’t always been like this, have you?”

You take a tiny step closer, bridging the gap between your bodies, since you think this attempt might just finally be getting you somewhere.

“You want me to like you? Trust you? Actually enjoy your company, and, much more, want it? Tell me something no one else knows, then. Something that will make me see past all of it.”

Your eyes trail along his suit, before meeting his own again. “Past this. I have no interest in getting to know Homelander. Because that’s not who you really are, even if you’ve forgotten it. There’s still a man in this costume. A human being.”

You watch with shock as tears gather in his eyes that continue to stare into your own, his lips pressed into a firm line as he remains silent.

You shoosh him softly. “It’s okay. It’s just the two of us. You may not want to believe it, but you can trust me. I haven’t even told anyone about you coming here last night, because I’m not the type to gossip. I have no interest in it.”

That’s not the reason whatsoever, but he can think whatever the hell he likes, so long as it gets him to calm down and give you a moment of vulnerability.

You brush a tear away as it slips down his cheek.

“You want to know what people have told me time and again since I was little? That they feel like they can trust me—even complete strangers. They’ll share things with me that they won’t even tell their closest friends and family. For the longest time I couldn’t understand why—what it was about me—and then I figured it out.”

You gently run your fingertips along his cheek. “I know what it feels like when someone betrays your trust repeatedly. When that one person in all the world you’re supposed to be able to rely and lean upon just…uses the things you tell them against you just to hurt you. Because they’re incapable of empathy. And I refuse to do that to others. Because I won’t be like her. I can’t. I just…I guess people can sense that about me. I hope so, at least. It’s the only explanation I have.”

You pause. “What I’m trying to get at is that you can, too: trust me. You’re safe here.”

He blinks, another tear slipping down his cheek, which you softly wipe away.

“John,” he whispers, finally speaking. “My name is John.”

You smile.

“John,” you repeat, and his chin wobbles at the sound of his name leaving your lips.

“Thank you for telling me. That’s all I wanted: to know something about you. Something that comes from you.”

His face shifts then, his vulnerability quickly vanishing. “If you tell anyone—”

You slip your fingers into his hair. “I won’t. I promise. You have nothing to worry about. It’s okay. Everything is okay.”

His eyes flit between yours, debating, considering.

And then he nods and you release a breath of relief.

He leans down then, pressing his lips to yours—tenderly. A wholly different sensation to how he’d been with you last night.

It’d worked.

You pull back slightly.

“Y/N,” you whisper against his lips.

His own twitches. “I already knew that.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Who was it? You said ‘her’.”

You swallow, chewing the inside of your cheek. “Can we talk about it tomorrow night?”

He likes that you want him back again. That you’re admitting it. That you’re planning on it.

He smirks. “Sounds like we’re finally on the same page, sweetheart.”

[thehollowwriter]

Warnings: Mentions of self harm

The Official Bio of Sonata Clearcove

Basic Info:

Name: Sonata Clearcove

Homeland: The Coral Sea

Species: Half cookie cutter shark mer, half rainbow parrotfish mer

Occupation: Uni student studying music

Birthday: 28 July

Age: 25

Height/length: 155cm

Dominant hand: Right

Family:

•Unnamed mother

•Unnamed mother

•Unnamed older sisters

•Uncle: Morrigan (deceased)

•Uncle: Silas

•Unnamed uncles and aunts

•Cousin: Finn

•Unnamed cousins

Preferences:

Hobbies: Writing songs, singing, learning new ways of doing makeup

Likes: Music, singing, fashion, humans, land, concerts, fancy food

Dislikes: The dark, blood, being told no, the more animalistic mers, herself, Silas, Timo

Favourite food: Chocolate

Least favourite food: Shrimp

Appearance

Sonata looks like a cookie cutter shark, though her tail is wider and her fins are smaller. Her mom may be a human appearing rainbow parrotfish mer, but she takes after her mother, a cookie cutter shark mer, the most of all.

Her skin, scales, and tail are white and pastel blue, her fins and the swirly stripes up her arms, face and tail are pastel pink, and the very edges of her fins are dark blue. Her teeth are sharp like the tweels, though her top front teeth are merged to form a beak like irl parrotfish

Her hair is long and wavy, and pastel pink with pastel blue streaks running through it like this:

She keeps it loose and rarely ties it up.

The webbing on her right hand between her index and middle finger is very scarred and damaged. She uses a weak illusion spell to hide it.

Personality:

Sour-sweet personified. She's nice, until she isn't. She's quite spoiled (Cause mama Clearcove didn't want her to feel like a constant failure like she did), and her main focus at most times is ensuring she gets what she wants or whatever she feels will ensure her own happiness. She's got that... fake kind of kindness. Think of Azul's "benevolence," but really, she just thinks whoever she's talking to is trashy. She's kinder to her own family, but even she can say things that are scathing in that sweet tone. She's also the embodiment of "It's just a joke bro" and often does cruel tricks on people and stuff. She once stole the courting gift Floyd gave Finn (a necklace of barracuda teeth).and threatened to break it, then was like "lmao it's just a joke you look so stressed" for example. Yes, she's in her 20s.

However, she has very low self-esteem due to being severely bullied as a child and absolutely hates how she looks. She wishes she looked more human, like her mom. She makes up for it by telling herself that she is the best and acting like it, too. She's similar to Blaze in the sense. However unlike him, every time she's awful (which is often) the sense of satisfaction is quick to fade and she just thinks "what is wrong with me?"

Some Fun Facts/Extra Info (This is gonna be a long one):

•Sonata has magic, but it's only strong enough for a few levitation spells

•She wants to be famous one day

•When I say she hates how she looks, I mean it. When she was younger, her moms caught her trying to cut off the webbing between her hands with a knife. She now has permanent scars there.

•The only things she likes about herself are her voice and her beauty.

•She looked up to Morrigan a lot since she was a teen when he was around and remembers him well. She was deeply hurt at the new of his death and grieved for a long time. She blames Silas for his death

•She also admires her grandparents, which is not great since they have harmful views that she has internalised and have damaged her in the long run

•She is afraid of Silas, and Silas thinks she's a snivelling brat (he called her that when she was like 11 and she started crying which pissed off her mom and-)

•She doesn't necessarily dislike Finn, but she also doesn't... really like him, either? She's quite mean to him and insults him a lot but also very nice and gives him presents and it confuses the fuck out of him

•She doesn't like the dark, but she will pay Silas and Finn a visit once every six months or so for reasons known only to her, even though Silas doesn't want her there. Silas' wards don't hurt her only because she's Morrigan's niece, and for that reason, Silas doesn't want her to get too hurt

•She doesn't like Timo, and Timo doesn't like her. She leaves him in a constant state of "istg if she weren't Mister Silas' niece I'd slap her"

Tagging: @distant-velleity @br3adtoasty @rainesol @theleechyskrunkly @jovieinramshackle

@galaxies-and-gore @cyanide-latte @cynthinesia @officialdaydreamer00 @krenenbaker

@offorestsongs @kitwasnothere @elenauaurs @boopshoops @am0nline

@1dont-really-know @kazumify @minteasketches @elysia-nsimp @skrimpyskimpy

@casp1an-sea @offorestsongs @tixdixl @poisoned-pearls @the-trinket-witch

@ramshacklerumble @ghostiidasponk @thegoldencontracts @natsukishinomiyaswife

[divine-death2]

Hello!!! I hear you need some inspiration and oh my goodness if I don’t have millions of thoughts running around in my head about Butcher!!!!!!! If it’s not too much to ask, maybe a Butcher story where Hughie brings reader into The Boys and she’s really shy and kind of quiet until you get to know her, but she develops a massive crush on Butcher. Hughie keeps encouraging her to tell him or to pursue it but she’s so shy and thinks he would never feel the same way. (Considering his past, she’s not sure if he would even want to pursue something) until one day when Hughie is off on a stakeout type mission with Billy he accidentally says something about it to Billy and he’s stunned but wants all the details. You can decide the ending if you’d like 🥰❤️

Hey guys, I apologize that I am only posting now, I was so busy with exams and studying. I got this great idea from @pipsqueakkitten, I decided to make this one into various chapters, because there is just so much to do with it. Also in this story, Becca really did die at Homelander's hand. xoxo

WARNINGS!!:

violence, fluff, angst, implied smut, eventual smut, guns, death, blood, drugs, fear, language, if you haven't watched it yet; spoilers, romance.

Chapter 1:

You met Hughie when he was in high school. He was always such a sweet kid, and he was the first to talk to you when you ended up being the new kid on the block. He took his time to befriend you, as you were always a very shy person, especially if you didn't know the other person or people. You always kept to yourself, until your best friend came along. He has always been there for you. You talked to him on a regular basis, so you knew about what had happened to Robin and you saw A-trains half-assed apology on the news. Sadly, you caught yourself in a similar situation.

Miss Stillwell had ordered the seizing of your parents, which unfortunately turned very sour. My dad worked for Vaught for more than a decade, he handled all instances of Compound-V, whatever that is. Your mother, she was working on something called V-24. They were both formidable scientists. Homelander fried their heads off, when they didn't want to comply with going with them. You saw everything while watching the camera footage on the tiny screens in the attic. Fuck, you just got back from deployment, and now your parents are dead in the fucking living room, what the FUCK, the thought flashed through your mind. How Homelander didn't hear you up there, you'll never know, but you're grateful that he didn't and if he had, he didn't act on it.

Once the supes left your house, you waited about 30 minutes, before you called Hughie. You told him everything, and he said, "Meet me at this pawnshop in East Flatbush, I will wait outside, wearing a hood, make sure that you aren't being followed". With that he hung up, and you figured you will be away for a while, so you threw some essentials in a backpack and left. Not sparing another glance at your now dead parents, you didn't need to see that image again.

You kept to the sides of the streets, checking behind you every few meters, to make sure you aren't followed. After a while, you manage to spot Hughie, with his hood up, and he looks like hell. You make your way to him, and he quickly guides you into and through the shop, and down a few stairs. The smell alone was enough to make you gag, but you had to keep a straight face, at least until you are alone and away from prying eyes. Suddenly he stops when the man named Butcher called out for him, "Oi, Hughie, where the fuck were you?" You immediately freeze up, oh fuck Hughie, what have you just pulled me into? you think to yourself. "Just give me a minute and I will explain everything to everyone......Alright?", he says to Butcher and continues to pull you down a smaller passage to where he was apparently sleeping. Once the door shut behind you, you broke down. Falling to the floor, you cry, your limbs like jelly, that's when you feel Hughie sit next to you and hold you. You don't know how long you've been crying or when you passed out.

You woke up, no Hughie in sight. Cautiously you opened the door, and you heard Butcher and Hughie having a screaming match. "You can't just bring anyone here!", Butcher shouts at him. "Yeah...well she just saw her parents get offed by fucking Homelander!", he shouts back. "Look, she won't be a liability, she can fight, she knows her way around this type of shit", Hughie said in a calmer tone. MM points at you, and both men spins around, looking at you directly. You wish you could just disappear. Butcher sighs and walks up to you. "Ello, luv", he says, his tone much softer, but you can hear a faint smirk in his voice.

You don't reply, instead you just look at your feet, feeling your cheeks heat up. You can't deny the fact that he is handsome, and you've always had a thing for British men. You feel nervous, you have heard stories about this man, how he is insane and how he managed to kill Translucent. You glance up at Hughie and he gives you a small smile. "Hi", you finally whisper. Your eyes spot some guns on the tables and that piqued your interest. Guns were always a guilty pleasure of yours, which is why you made a point of being the best shooter in your unit. Your shyness is what kept you form taking a closer look at them.

Lost in your thoughts about guns, you jump slightly as you feel small but firm hands on your arm. You look to your left and saw a girl, with a smile on her face, but her eyes held so much pain. This must be Kimiko, the supe in the group. She guides to you a couch and you sit down; she nods and leaves. Hughie sits next to you and says, "I should probably get you caught up on everything." He tells you everything, from how they killed Translucent to what Compound-V is and how fucked Vaught is. You stare in front of you, trying to process all of the information. Holy, shit, your parents were working with these people for decades, how... why would they? You feel like you don't even know who your parents really were. "Hughie, can I trust these people?", you whisper the words to him. Sighing he says, " They...We're not the bad guys here, we're trying to take down Vaught, so that this shit stops, for good." Even though it wasn't a direct answer, it was still an answer. "Petite Guerrière, what exactly does Petite Hughie mean when he says you know how to deal with this shit?", the Frenchman asks. That must be Frenchie. Looking at him, you reply softly, "I-I was in the military, top shooter in my unit".

Butcher and Frenchie both raise their eyebrows at that. They are probably thinking how anyone so shy could run an entire unit. "How come you're not there anymore?", comes the question from Butcher. "I took a leave of absence, to visit my family." I keep avoiding eye contact.

BUTCHER'S POV:

Hughie brought this woman here; she is awfully shy. She claims to be in the military on vacation, I can honestly not see how that is possible. She is not hard on the eyes either, her (y/h/c) is in a neat bun. She showed some interest in the guns on the table. I can tell she was trying not to show any interest, but the way she stared at them, I can't help but wonder if she is just as fucked as the rest of us.

Changing the subject, I say, "There is a supe that needs to be taken care of, I have a plan, and we'll need to execute it perfectly." I see MM rolling his eyes and sighing. I grab a shotgun from the pile on the table and walk up to her, handing her the shotgun. I am taken aback when she frowns and grimaces at the gun. "No offence, sir, but I prefer using my trusted friend," she softly says pulling out a M1911 colt pistol. I groan internally as she calls me sir. She has to be bonkers, because this means she needs to be in a closer range to get a proper hit, I think to myself. I scoff, "Luv, no offense, but if ya gonna be part of this, ya gonna need something that can get a good shot from a distance." Hughie bursts out laughing at that, shaking his head. "Man, you don't know shit", he says between laughing. She just stares at me from next to Kimiko on the couch, I can see Kimiko trying to show Frenchie something.

Later we're rollin' out at the location. We're all in position, and I can't see her anywhere, for some reason, I feel panicked that I can't see her. Fearing that she might disappear as well. I remember this feeling all too fuckin' well, but for now I have to shove this down, because we have a job to do.

It's a bloody party shop, it has just about everything inside. Hughie is on my left, Frenchie and Kimiko is in another part of the shop, MM is somewhere. But I have no idea where she is. Suddenly, I hear gunshots to my right. There she is, she looks so focused and different from the shy person she was mere hours ago. I can't keep my eyes off her, she has me hypnotized as she moved. She moves like water, smooth and fluid, firing bullet after bullet. I get pulled out of this trance, because there is a loud crushing sound. Suddenly the metal frame above us is falling down on her. I try screaming out, but my voice is lost.

Hughie slaps my shoulder, pointing to Kimiko and the other supe. They are embracing each other and crying. Before I can stop myself, my body acts on its own. Aiming at the male supe, before Hughie redirects my gun, and I shoot the ceiling. "Stop, it's her brother", Hughie shouts. "I don't fuckin' care if he is the fuckin' King of England", I spit back.

I don't know why I am feeling this way. I am angry, yet worried and anxious at the same time. I don't know this woman, yet I can't shake the dreadful feeling inside me.

[sehtoast]

A Shoulder to Lean On (Homelander x OC)

1k | Homelander speaks to Ben about Stillwell after her demise | Fic Directory

“How long had you two been..?”  Ben trailed off.  Didn’t quite know what to call their situation.  “Uhm… Close?”

It’d been roughly a week and a half since Homelander came to him searching for the one place he knew he could crumble and be held together.  He’d killed her, of course.  That much was clear even before he admitted it outright.

This territory was fairly new between them but Ben had a feeling no one had ever let Homelander have this before. This release, this safety, this understanding that he could offload some of his troubles and not be judged as weak.

He was understandably atrocious at actually doing it.  Chuckling through stories, looking away when he got choked up.

It didn’t matter, though.  At least he was trying.

And Ben?

Well, Benjamin was there to listen.  To be the shoulder to cry on that Homelander’s never quite had in his life.

“I–” He tried, shaking his head.  “A while, I guess.  I dunno…”

The web-head rubbed soothing circles against Homelander’s back.  He’d convinced him to shed the cape and gloves, to drop at least a piece of the facade, small as it may have been.

“You can be more than just Homelander here,” Ben had told him.  “It’s okay to be John, too.”

In the background, the TV played on low volume.  Flashes of action scenes from a Vought special illuminated the darkness of the living room.  They tended to air a lot, but they made for good background noise.

“She never– It’s… It was something.”

It’s always something, isn’t it?

Ben’s hand crept up to thumb at the nape of Homelander’s neck.  He always did seem to react pleasantly to soothing touch.  Like it dulled the edge of his misery.  His anger.

His pain.

For a time, they sat in silence– save for the movie.  Ben continued his gentle touches, still mystified at his lack of discomfort when it came to touching Homelander.  He never was particularly tactile, but…

Well, here he is getting The Homelander himself to open up.  Seems they both had a special way with one another.

“I really wanted her to love me…”  Homelander rasped suddenly, voice tight in his throat.

Ben’s eyes widened, but he made no move to speak when he heard that first sniffle.  Not when he saw Homelander wipe aggressively at his eyes.

“I really wanted to fucking mean something to her!”  He sniveled. “Fucking a-anything!  I tried so fucking hard to be enough!”

The bug shifted slightly closer to Homelander, wrapping his arm across his shoulders.  He didn’t know what else to do, really.  Homelander leaned into his embrace, though, so it must have been the right choice.

“She–”  He shuddered, nuzzling against Ben to hide how much of a mess he was becoming.  “I’ve never–” But he couldn’t tell Benjamin the truth.  Couldn’t tell the wall crawler about the way he grew up, couldn’t bear rehashing all of that on top of this… 

If only he had any idea how much Benjamin truly knew…

“Shh, Johnny,” Ben cooed, using that nickname that always seemed to soften the edges.  “I know.”

He’d deduced a lot from when Homelander would talk about her.  The way she dangled her love like a carrot on a stick since the day she first met him.  Always leading him along, tempting him with just enough to keep him malleable, just enough promises kept to keep him well behaved, just enough to build a career off of the hold she established on him.  Ben gathered that it all only came to a head once her hold on him began to waver and she tore down the last walls, baiting him with physical intimacy far more than ever before.

Giving him hope.

Who knows?  If she hadn’t lied to Homelander about his child, Madelyn Stillwell might have survived another day.  But she did, so she didn’t.

Homelander looked at the TV from under wet lashes, content to let Benjamin continue resting his chin atop his head, stroking soothingly up and down his back. On the screen was the hero getting the girl.  Getting his happily ever after, his perfect world, saving the day and being loved by everyone.

How he wished that were him…

“... m’afraid to be alone.” 

Ben didn’t speak.  He knew sometimes that was best, especially given the weight of such a statement.  He leaned back against the couch, gently bringing Homelander with him, petting through his hair.  The angle was a little awkward, but Homelander seemed not to care.

“M’scared no one… that no one’s ever gonna love me the way I love them.”

What an all too understandable plight.  Benjamin hugged him closer, pressing a kiss to the top of his hair.

After some time, he decided to speak up.

“I’m proud of you, y’know?”  Ben murmured.  Obviously not for having killed her, but… “That was a lot just then, wasn’t it?”

He meant that confession, of course.

Homelander simply nodded against him.  It was humiliating.  Purely fucking humiliating to have finally said it out loud.

But somehow it was okay.

“And you’re not alone,” Ben continued.  “You’re kind of stuck with me.”

Benjamin made it okay.

“And I love you,” Ben declared softly.  

Though, at the time, the statement was contextually between friends, Homelander heard it differently.

Felt it resonate in his chest, reverberate into his limbs, dance in his mind.

Benjamin loved him.

His little spider loved him.

“Thank you…”

[super-hero-confessions]

Butchlander fandom. Grow the fuck up.

Watching "mostly" straight women with a fetish clique up and try to alienate and borderline excommunicate actual queer people in fandom over differing opinions in real time is not only disturbing, it's disgusting.

You're not in highschool anymore, not that this sort of behavior is ever acceptable, but I'm pretty sure at least half of you are 40 and over. This mean girl shit and insidious subversive talk is not only beyond childish coming from grown ass adults.

It is moronic. You are morons.

You aren't special or cute trying to manipulate people to be like minded by "other-ing" the "other" side as if there fucking is one you hive drones.

No one cares how insecure you are over your own kinks and opinions that you would forcibly pick unnecessary fights behind someone's back if not set out bait to start drama, just to somehow solidify your opinions as if they were some sort of hard canon confirmed fact.

They are not.

Opinions. Are not facts. Period.

If someone is cluttering "your" precious Butchlander tag with "bratty bossy bottom Billy Butcher", oh fucking well. Cry harder, bitch. You don't own the fucking tag. You think you're the only one who sees shit you don't like? Boo fucking hoo, you're not. You never were. You are not the only type of Butchlander shipper in the world nor are you the only type of valid one.

Eat your heart out if you're gonna be a fucking fascist about fictional bullshit and completely miss every single thing The Boys bothers teaching. No wonder so many of you proudly proclaim to hate the comics, you can't stand something that challenges your worldview and forces you to think beyond your own hands in front of your face.

And then you accuse the queer person of being a narcissist? For... what exactly? Being loud and proud? Existing? Because I didn't see any attacks or attempts at policing opinions. Maybe a little obnoxious, sure. But nothing that any of you weren't doing. Besides the loving bottom Billy bit.

Projection 101.

Oh, I get it. It's much easier to pick on someone when they're mostly alone and "different". Fuck off with that shit.

But yeah, thanks for STRAIGHTSPLAINING a GAY ship that isn't even canon in any way and never will be to QUEER PEOPLE.

🖕

🖕🏻🖕🏼🖕🏽🖕🏾🖕🏿

Babygirl Billy Butcher >>>>> Babygirl Homelander.

And that's a goddamn fact.

[igottatho]

You're full of shit.

"Many Western Jews agree" you're going to be very heartbroken realizing that anti Zionist Jews are a loud minority. There's a reason why most Jewish institutions will never cut ties with Israel. This is our land; we got it back and you'll have to be a dumb cunt to think we are ever leaving it. You gentiles will have to RIP IT FROM OUR DEAD HANDS. Israeli history has been surviving despite all odds despite being cornered and despised by our neighbours. We are not going anywhere. You have no idea our love for Israel, our love for Zionism, you know nothing because you are a privileged outsider.

Additionally, most Jews will be considered Zionist because of the new definitions goyim have created...we believe that Israel has a right to exist and that dehumanizing Israelis is wrong and according to y'all, these are classic evil Zionist opinions which majority of us happen to have. Half of the world's Jewish population is there. A lot of us have connections to the land in so many ways. Our families are there.

Contrary to your antisemitic belief (Israelis are rich seriously? Anything with money and Jews is a trope cmon now) these are not rich people who can leave. If you knew anything at all, you'd know that a lot of Israeli Jews are Arab. They suffered greatly under Muslim rule and were forced one way or another to move to Israel. A Libyan Jew David Gerbi has constantly tried to return to his homeland but faces the threat of being lynched. He has sent people to help him out and those people were hurt because that's how powerful antisemitism is. You will cry upon realising the Arab world's support of Hitler :(

You keep repeating "It is not fault of Palestinians that their oppressors are Jewish". It is not the fault of Israelis that their oppressors happen to be Muslim. With your weird logic, Israeli Jews are justified in their Zionism because guess what. Christanity and Islam despite coming from Judaism actively oppresses Jews and has been oppressing us since forever. Fun fact a lot of Arab Jews (in and out of Israel) are more likely to be Zionist (hardcore Zionist btw) because of their experiences being oppressed by Arabs in their homelands (I say Arab Jews but it is rare to come across an "Arab Jew" who actually calls themselves that. They prefer the term mizrahi.) Fun fact when Israel was formed, mob violence exploded all over the Middle East where Arabs told Jews "go to Israel where you belong, we don't want you here". Now those same Arab Jews make up a large percentage of Israel, suddenly it's "get out of Palestine!!!!" ?

How come yall are always anonymous. It’s almost like you’re cowards or something.

If it’s not the fault of the Israelis that their attackers are Arabs, then why are the Palestinians collectively paying the price for other Arabic groups actions?

I don’t give a fuck of your love for the land, love it, live on it, etc, just stop pretending like you have a right to monopolize it, or oppress anyone else on it.

Yea I’m well aware that many American Christians are antisemitic. They get on TV and proselytize about the Holy Land and the coming of Jesus, and then talk the most disgusting shit about Jewish people comes out of their mouths. It’s akin to the hateful language I hear from Zionists.

Historically, there were pockets of mob violence, yea. That’s what happens in a power vacuum. So when Ottoman Empire fell, the British Mandate took over. Instead of being the competent middle man and treating Zionists equally with Arabs, British soldiers looked the other way for settler violence. Then when Britain left Mid-East, it gave weapons and money and training to all of those Zionists. Because it was useful for Antisemitic British people to send all of the Jewish people away from Europe. Particularly after the Shoah, when seeing any Jewish people afterwards made them so uncomfortable /s. As you may know, many of the Nazis didn’t just disappear, they got rolled into western society, because imperialism is always the same.

Again - live there. Do whatever you want, idgaf.

Stop acting like these little headless children in Gaza wanted to fucking kill you, so you killed them first. Any justification that Israel ever had (debatable tbh) is long gone, 200k people later, and hardly a hostage saved. Zionism is an evil ideology and has always been predicated on the antisemitic racism of Europe (and now US).

[mycatsaidwhat]

things i’ve heard english majors say pt. 17

-not capitalizing I’s in poetry was a moment in tumblr history but that moment is gone and we don’t have to do that anymore 

-have you ever killed off a main character in any of your stories?

Like physically?

-I’m almost done with this stupid discussion post and then I’m gonna go for a stupid walk before I make any more stupid decisions about my stupid life

-I read over 55 poems for the lit mag and I read 46 pages of an 18th century diary for my American revolution class and yet the most productive thing I’ve done today is adding “Scarborough” to my list of name for future pets

-what’s my specialty? Prose-poetry nonfiction vignettes about the generation z experience 

What the fuck? 

-go to class, just don’t run into a guy who you ask to be the father of your children on the way there 

-we’re running on poet time, so the event is gonna go late for sure

-killing off a main character is so original that it’s unoriginal. Living people can make you cry too, John Green and Suzzanne Collins and me

-I’m all concept, no practicality

-someone pry the word slay from my cold dead hands

-I don’t know why I like poems that are, like, gross

-not to be a prude but I would have liked the poem more if it was in a more traditional format

-most shitty poetry of this era can be traced back to the grip that milk and honey had on us for a good year there

-this piece looks like it was mauled by a thesaurus

-don’t look at me using slash marks in a poem it’s a stylist choice and it isn’t cliche yet

-I can hardly keep living at all, in any condition

-I’ve been at college for two and a half years, I know how to bullshit for 10 pages

-I changed what I was going to read six or seven times since we started this open mic–

*deafening* MOOD

-ugh, is it really necessary to submit portfolios for job positions with literary magazines? 

Everyone: YES

-yeah, Buzzfeed used to be into deep long-form journalism. And now it’s not. 

-hey, there’s no mirrors in your apartment

Well duh 

-honey, I’m an English major with minors in political science and American studies, critiquing the American Dream is what I do 

-English majors love to read right that’s what we all say even though we don’t 

-I should really go get a green-colored juice so I eat a vegetable 

-the idea of a very hungry spider patrolling our house is terrifying but also like. Kind of on brand for us

-I titled my creative nonfiction collection “The Hauntings and Homelands of One-Cent Treasures” and I need you to be proud of me that I came up with a title at all

That’s literally so sexy 

-if you tell the teacher that it’s my turn to talk, I will kill myself in front of you

Don’t do that, then I’d have to write a poem about you

You’re welcome

-don’t you get free tuition if your roommate kills themselves?

Is that written down somewhere?

-are we all just unstable then?

We’re creative writing majors, there’s some sort of preamble there to not be okay

-an undergrad never asks for permission. We walk into rooms and say we should be here

[extremelyblackandwhite]

innocence - 31

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: angst

A/N: it’s going down now!! hope you enjoy it xx

NEXT CHAPTER

   - Barnes. - he answered.

   - Mr. Barnes, it’s Agent Cox. We have an assignment for you. - his grip almost loosened on his coffee cup. - If you could meet with us tod ...

  - I don’t do that anymore.

  - I’m sorry Mr. Barnes, but I don’t make the rules. 1 o’clock, you know where.

  - Wait. - before he could even say a thing, the phone line went dead. Fuck. Fucking assholes. 

He threw the mug onto the sink, the sheer force of the movement making the porcelain shatter against the spotless aluminium which made the sleeping Y/N on the couch, perk up wide awake. Through the temporary blurry vision of the first look after sleeping, Y/N got up from the couch and rushed towards the kitchen. Bucky had his back turned to the tiled wall, hands on the marbled kitchen top with his head looking down at the sink. She padded lightly, coming up on his left rather than behind him, placing her hand on top of his which quickly got a reaction from him.  

    - What’s wrong? - she was smart enough to know when something was wrong despite the fact he had learned to hide it from her. Bucky sighed, turning around to lean against the kitchen top. - Bucky?

Bucky remained locked inside his mind, fighting something which Y/N couldn’t really understand. It quickly passed her mind it could’ve been due to her actions last night but that thought quickly left as the overwhelming feeling of wanting to comfort him. She wrapped her arms around him, leaning her head against his chest. Bucky was still much too lost in his own mind. He should’ve be enjoying retirement, or at least his version of retirement and he definitely should not be leaving his bride-to-be who was being harassed by some maniac stalker. Yet, here he was once again. He guessed when they said don’t hurt anyone, it obviously did not include him. 

    - Talk to me, Bucky.  What’s wrong, love?

    - What ... what ring cut do you want? - he tried to change the topic but she was much too smart to know he hadn’t broken a mug over deciding what cut she wanted for her engagement ring. - Princess cut? Heart? Marquise?

     - Barnes! - she interrupted him before he decided to switch careers and become an engagement ring adviser. - What is it?

     - I ... I have to go, Y/N. I have an assignment.

     - What do you mean? 

     - It’s complicated.- he rested his hand on his neck. How does one even start to explain it? Bucky wanted her to see him as a regular man, he did not want the Winter Soldier, HYDRA, SHIELD or even the Avengers being part of his history with him. Maybe it was wrong of him to want to divide those two parts of him, but he wanted her to see whatever good was left in him. How would he even explain it to her when he can barely explain it to himself?

     - Well then explain to me. Make it uncomplicated.

     - I .. it’s part of my plea deal, princess.

     - What plea deal? - she followed him into the living room, where he sat in the couch. - Bucky, talk to me, please. Let me help you. 

     - You think the government would let me walk around as if nothing had happened? - he meant for it to sound playful however it came out filled  with resentment and why wouldn’t he resent them? It wasn’t freedom, it was constantly being kept on the leash by a government which was everything but capable of taking care of homeland security. - I had a list of people associated with HYDRA, it started with that then ... then after I was done they started calling me whenever they thought someone had HYDRA connections so I could bring them in and make amends.

     - Makes amends? What is that supposed to mean? 

     - It means what you think it means, princess. 

     - Bu ...

      - I have to meet with the agents to get the details today. - he interrupted before she could delve deeper into what he was sure she wanted to discuss. Bucky knew what he had to do and he knew there was no use crying and whining about it. - At one but I’ll be ba ...

     - I’m going with you. 

     - What? No, you’re not going. You’re staying here, god knows the papers already know you skipped the party and will be starting with their theories. 

     - I did not ask for you opinion, I said I am going. 

     - Princess, they’re not gonna let you inside the room and you’ll be probably waiting outside for an hour. Wouldn’t you feel more comfortable here?

     - No. I am going, Bucky. End of story.

     - So you’re calling the shots now?

     - Yes. - she looked over her shoulder as she made her way to the bedroom to finally get rid of the dress that was starting too feel way too uncomfortable. 

Bucky was not happy. The last thing he needed was the government to know he was dating, much less the officers and agents which normally assigned him tasks. Those were two worlds he did not want connected, he didn’t want Y/N mixed with his past, much less mixed with active ex-HYDRA members but he also knew there was no stopping her and the two of them left his flat just half to one, arriving at a mostly regular building which she would’ve mistaken for an office. Bucky parked the car in front of him, stare frozen onto the building as if it were a person which had hurt him. She felt powerless, she couldn’t help him. All she could do was be the first one off the car, eyes shielded by oversized sunglasses as he opened his door as he normally would do for her. He snapped out of it, exiting the car only to give the building that look again which was broken by her holding his hand. He’d done this so many times before and it had always been hard but now, now walking in that building meant he’d be leaving her just in the midst of a crazy person who was stalking her. He shouldn’t be tying up HYDRA’s loose ends, he should be throwing whomever that stalker was inside a cell.

     - Wait here, okay? - Bucky instructed Y/N just before he entered the room to have the meeting. - I’ll be back.

     - You’re gonna be fine. - she thanked heaven she had decided to take up acting because all she wanted to do now was break down. He kissed her forehead before leaving.

Everything looked so normal, almost like an office’s reception but she had quickly learned to dislike it. She disliked the pale blue colour of the walls, the sound of the coffee machine, the dark blue seats, she hated all of it. She did not need to know exactly why, she knew whatever it was, it was something Bucky deeply disliked and she did not know what to do. She should know what to do, say something more supportive. However, there was someone who knew what to do, who would know how to be better at helping him than she could. Y/N fished through her purse, a mess of stuff coming out before she could even get to her phone. 

     - Hello?

     - Steve, you need to come. Hum ... I don’t know where I am but I need your help.

     - Y/N, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Where’s Bucky?

     - I don’t know what’s going on. - she sighed, leaning her head against the palm of her hand. - He didn’t explain it to me but it’s about assignments and the government.

     - I’ll be there as fast as I can, Y/N. 

     - Thank you. 

All eyes in the room were on her, as if she was a circus attraction. It was nothing she wasn’t used to, she had grown up surrounded by an audience either it being her family or the audience of the plays she had been so she knew when people were staring at her. This look however, it was almost as of surprise and shock. She curled up against her own self, lip between her teeth as her fingers pulled at the pearls wrapped around her neck. She should’ve insisted to go in, to be by his side so he wasn’t alone.

     - Y/N, are you okay? - she looked up to see Sam and Steve. - Sam, take her to the car.

     - I don’t need to be in the car. I’m staying here to support him and one of you is gonna explain me to me what the heck is happening.

     - I’m going to check on Cox and Buck. - Steve left Y/N alone with Sam, the two of them sat in probably the most uncomfortable seats ever created. 

     - Sam, are they gonna hurt him?

     - Bucky’s gonna be fine, Y/N. This is part of “effort” to make amends.

     - Make amends for what, Sam? For being the Winter Soldier? For being a persona forced upon him by HYDRA which was undercover in the government for years? This can’t ... it can’t be possibly legal. 

     - Try to tell that to a jury of people who see him as the guy who fought Captain America in Washington and threw a guy into traffic. It’s not as simple but he’ll be fine. He’s done it several times and they always tell him no one gets hurt.

     - What about him? What are the rules about hurting him? - the two of them remained silent. There was nothing else to be said because both of them knew there were no rules. It was as uncertain as it came, it didn’t matter if he was “retired” from avenging or from being called the Winter Soldier. It did not matter. 

Time went by slowly and it felt as if Bucky and Steve had been in there for hours, when in reality the clock only marked 30 minutes and 40 minutes when the two of them stepped out of the room. Y/N scrambled to her feet, despite the sleepy state she had been in, fast walking towards her fiance. She wrapped her arms around him as best she could, standing on her tips of her sneakers to try and convey she was there for him. 

     - Seriously? Steve? - he whispered against her ear but Y/N shook it off.

     - Was it bad? - she turned to Steve, knowing Bucky would just try to shield her from it. 

     - Nothing far from usual. We’ll be standing by if you need it.

     - Thanks. - Bucky put his arm on over her shoulder, pushing her close to him while he could.

     - Next time call, Buck. If you don’t know how to use your phone ask your girlfriend. - Sam perked up before both him and Steve left. 

She looked up at him, knowing she’d definitely get a scolding for calling Steve but instead he just leaned down to kiss her before holding her tight. She was left stunned, wondering why he was yet to say something. Y/N could not know much about her boyfriend’s former life with HYDRA, but she knew him. She knew Bucky hated to bring Steve into things, specially after their relationship had slightly strained and despite that she still called Steve in. Steve knew his HYDRA life, she did not. Yet, Bucky always seemed to either let out a sarcastic remark or at least roll his eyes at her. Not today though. He acted as if the two of them had just came out of a date, holding her by her waist as they walked into the car.

She remained suspicious, looking to the side as he drove to his Brooklyn apartment. No. He had to be thinking about something, he had to be wondering about how to make his discontent about her calling Steve known. But he didn’t. He just had the radio playing, his hand on her thigh but she was still suspicious. Her suspicion grew stronger as they entered his flat and he held her flush against him, lowering to kiss her as if he hadn’t seen her in years. It was soft, filled with passion and slow. The type of kiss which if long enough would lead to more unsavoury things. 

     - I have to leave tomorrow. - his voice came out meek and soft as his lips parted from hers. 

     - What? - now it made sense. 

     - I have to leave tomorrow for my assignment. I don’t know when I’m going to be back but I have made arrangements for someone to watch over you. No one will hurt you while I’m gone.

     - Bucky, this is ridiculous. - she sighed. - Can’t we fight this? Can’t Steve help? You shouldn’t have to do this. 

     - I have to do this, Y/N. It’s my ... amends. 

     - Amends? Seriously? - she bit harshly onto her lip as not to start crying. She knew the moment she started to cry, he’d change the conversation to be about her and this was not about her. - You have to make amends?

     - Y/N...

     - No. - she interrupted. - You enlisted of a war caused by lack of government action, you were presumed dead only to be found by people who then seeped into the organisation which was meant to protect the country. They cut off whatever was left of your arm from a fall caused by them and brainwashed you. You are 106, you were 28 when you feel from that train. That’s 78 years, James. That’s more than average life expectancy for a man in the USA. You’re telling me they had you unwillingly under their control during their dirty deeds for more than a man’s life expectancy and you have to make amends? 

     - That’s the plea deal I accepted, Y/N. What do you want me to do? What do you want to do?

    - I just want them to see you the way that I see you, not the way they made you out to be. - Bucky took a step forward to hold her but she stepped back. - How can you accept it? Having them do this to you?

    - It’s just like the things your agency makes you do, princess. You get used to it overtime. 

    - It’s not the same. I chose to sign that contract, whatever comes of it is my fault. You did not chose to be used by someone and how is that fair? It’s not fair.

    - Life’s not fair. - he took a test step, testing if she would once again walk back but she did not. She stood there, arms crossed and head low and it broke him to see her like that but he did not know how to react. He’d never had someone say that to him and had he been less shaken by the sudden call, he would’ve probably had a different reaction. Yet, right now, all he wanted was to hold her. He wanted to hold her for as long as he could until he had to leave. 

Bucky fully approached her, wrapping his arms around her and resting her head against his shoulder. He kissed the top of her forehead, trying to hide his own emotions and trying to think of how he’d get that ex general down fast enough to return to her. To return to her little nose scrunch whenever she smiled with intent. 

    - I need you to do something for me, princess. You’re not gonna like it but I need you to do it. - he whispered, those words only for her. - Don’t make me say goodbye to you.

    - What do you mean?

    - Let me leave while you’re asleep. We go to bed just like we always do and you wake up tomorrow and I’m not here. 

    - Bucky, no. 

    - No, princess. Please. I was never good with goodbyes and if I don’t say goodbye to you, we never said it, so it never happened.

    - Bucky ...

    - Besides if I leave my dog tags with you, I can’t die. - he tried to lighten up the mood.

    - That’s not how it works.

    - I’ll be fine. I’ve done this plenty of times and no one has gotten hurt.

    - Not one has gotten hurt yet.

She didn’t want to let go of him and even as night approached and they laid down to sleep, she couldn’t sleep. Whenever she closed her eyes, the dark suffocated her and it made it hard to fall asleep. She looked at him the whole night, his hand holding hers until the heaviness of her lids eventually won the war against her yet it wasn’t that she was tired. She was just lying unconscious in darkness, feeling the tragedy in the air. He too had barely slept, awaking up up when he had to and finding it even harder to leave her. She was laying on his bed, her hair framing her face, chest slowly rising up and down. She was alive, she was no fantasy, she was his dream come true and he was leaving her. He guessed that was the price of freedom.

He took a final look at his bride to be, her fluttering lashes making her look ethereal against the white sheets. Oh, he’d be back. He’d be back for her. Bucky took his tags off, leaning down to place them across her slightly opened palm and to kiss her temple before he took off into the early dawn. 

Y/N woke up when the sun was high in the sky, the light contrasting the cold of her bed. She didn’t need to look at his side of the bed to know he was gone. She couldn’t feel him, she couldn’t hear him. The flowers by the bedside had gone brown, the dead petals falling on her palm like teardrops against his dogs tags. She clinged onto the shiny material, bringing it up to her chest before she allowed herself to cry finally. No sounds came, no whimpers of sadness, no moans of grief. Nothing. Tears just streamed down her face in silent rivers falling onto the sheets as she tried to convince herself it would be okay. Things were gonna be okay.

Just as she managed to calm herself down, she realised the moment she opened that bedroom door, the lack of the smell of coffee, the lack of the smell of oil from his fried eggs. It would all just come back in big flashes and she would be back to where she had just been. She couldn’t be in his flat anymore, it was too painful. She needed to go, she just didn’t know where yet as she opened the door, there was indeed someone in her kitchen.

    - Sharon?

taglist: @disasterbii @lookiamtrying @buckysteveloki-me @americasass81 @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @lostinthebeans @mariahthelioness29 @bbabysbaby @peaches-roses-sins @theadorasabditory @sipsteacasually @saiyanprincessswanie @booktease21 @noiralei @learisa @everythingisoverratedbutgreat @uglipotata72829 @naturalthrone22 @husherstan @mandiiblanche @vicmc624 @newyorkgoddess @itsallyscorner @chipilerendi @emzd34 @writerwrites @bluevxnus @that-girl-named-alex @captnrogers @nsfwsebbie @sarge-barnes-sir @niki-is-a-thing​ @cynic-spirit​ 

[qqueenofhades]

Did Ivan and Fedyor ever have, like, one of those big first fights where there is this uncertainty of "are we over now?" ? I mean, they would be alright in the end, but between Fedyor's overthinking and Ivan probably not having a lot of experience with relationships, there would be room for them worrying for a time after it.

Sequel to this and prequel to this. Set, as usual, in Phantom!Verse.

Moscow, 2013

June 30, 2013, is not a good day. In fact, it might be the worst of all the days of Fedyor Kaminsky’s life to date, and it is made absolutely no better by the fact that he’s long known it was coming – he just hoped, however vainly, that it wouldn’t. Three weeks ago, on June eleventh, the Duma unanimously passed the law formally entitled “For the Purpose of Protecting Children from Information Advocating For a Denial of Traditional Family Values,” with only one abstention and no dissenting votes, and President Putin is going to ceremoniously sign it into law today. It’s more pithily known as the “anti-gay law,” and it basically prohibits anything related to acknowledging that homosexuals exist in Russia. Fedyor has been anxiously following its progress with his activist friends in their group chats, all of them praying for some last-minute miracle to swoop in and knock it off course. Now that’s not going to happen. He has no idea what is going to happen, but to say the least, it won’t be good. He’s taken some body blows before, but this one sucks.

Fedyor vacillates wildly between wanting to watch the signing ceremony just to scream obscenities at it, and wanting to hide under the covers with the pillows over his head and cry. He texts frenetically with his friend Lyosha, who lost his position at Perm State University a few months ago for daring to do research about LGBTQ people, and is already planning to head into exile abroad. Does he have to do that too? Fedyor has lived in Russia his entire life, even if he has traveled internationally and has lots of foreign friends. He could stay. He could try to fight this thing somehow. He could do more. He should do more.

But how?

When Ivan gets home from work at six o’clock that night, that’s where he finds Fedyor: sitting on the living room floor under a quilt and neurotically eating chocolate biscuits, texting and crying. He drops his backpack and rushes over. “Fedya? Fedya! What’s wrong?”

“He signed it,” Fedyor says flatly. No more elaboration is necessary. “So now we’re fucked.”

Ivan looks troubled. He rocks back on his heels next to Fedyor and searches for the words. Then he says, clearly trying to be helpful, “Maybe not. Nobody has to know about us. If we just keep on like before, go about our daily lives, it will be all right. We are not important people. Why would they bother with us?”

“What?” Fedyor wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and lurches upright, shedding the quilt and a shower of cookie crumbs. “What are you talking about? Just – deny ourselves and go back in the closet and pretend we’re not here, that those assholes won? Go out, but make sure I never hold your hand walking down the street or dare to pretend that we are together? I don’t want to be afraid every second we’re out in public, Vanya! I don’t want to be wondering if maybe they’ll look at my emails or cook up some other reason to come after us! Lyosha already got fired before this even officially passed, and – ”

“Lyosha was a radical beforehand,” Ivan says dismissively. “It wasn’t because of this, I’m sure. So what? He’ll get a fancy position somewhere else. The West will love to take in the gay Russian, persecuted by the barbaric Putin regime, to show off how humane and enlightened they think they are. He will be fine.”

Fedyor looks at him as if he has two heads. “That’s how you’re reacting to this?”

“What am I supposed to do about it?” Ivan shrugs. “We have to make the best. What else are we going to do? Leave Russia?”

“Maybe we have to. What other choice do we have?”

“Stay?” Now it’s Ivan’s turn to sound like he’s talking nonsense. “Russia is our home!”

“Look, Vanya. I know you and I think differently about things, and we’ve gotten used to that. But I can’t – I physically cannot – stay in a place where I am criminalized for existing, for loving you, for being afraid that something will happen to us. We have to go.”

“No.” Ivan’s voice is colder than Fedyor has ever heard it. He sounds like a stranger. “No, we don’t. That’s crazy talk. Where would we go? America?”

“At least America doesn’t have this law!”

“America has no law that is helpful for us!” Ivan shouts. “And I’m not going there. The end! You make that choice, Fedya. Exile, or me?”

There’s a horrible silence in the wake of that pronouncement, as they stare at each other and Ivan instantly looks like he wants to bite it back, but it’s too late. Fedyor turns on his heel and marches away in frozen silence, refusing to utter a single word to Ivan for the rest of the night, even as Ivan tries to apologize and coax him into speaking again. Finally, taking the hint, he takes his things and silently goes to sleep on the couch, and Fedyor lies in their bed, staring at the ceiling and tossing and turning. Ivan didn’t mean that, right? Or maybe he did? Flee Russia, start a new life somewhere across the sea, but leave his boyfriend behind? Until recently, he thought Ivan Sakharov was the love of his life. Maybe he isn’t. Or even more terrifyingly, he is, and Fedyor will have to give him up anyway.

The rest of the week is just as bad. Ivan leaves early for work and keeps to himself when he gets home, while Fedyor starts Googling the U.S. asylum-claim process and reaching out to North American-based friends who can help with logistics. He spends hours on the computer, takes reams of notes, and doesn’t feel any better. Is he planning this for them or for him? He needs to answer that question like, now, and yet the prospect fills him with sickening dread. He cries himself to sleep with the bedroom door shut, and hears awkward shuffling in the corridor outside, like Ivan is listening and desperately wants to come in, but doesn’t think Fedyor wants him there. That’s even worse.

Finally, on Saturday night, Fedyor decides that they can’t go on like this. He drags himself out of his cave of blankets and cooks a nice supper, while Ivan goes for his usual afternoon workout at the gym, and when he comes back, he blinks. “Fedya? What’s this about?”

“We need…” Fedyor’s throat is a desert. “We need to talk about us.”

Those six little words are usually the kiss of death in any relationship, and he has no idea what’s about to happen next, but Ivan’s face wrenches in half like a torn piece of paper. He opens his mouth, shuts it, shakes his head furiously, and comes to a sudden and unassailable decision. With that, still in his gym clothes, he drops his bag and goes to one knee on the creaky wooden floor of their kitchen, in this humble sixth-floor Moscow flat that is the first place Fedyor ever knew pure and perfect happiness. “Okay,” he says. “How is this for a start. Fedyor Mikhailovich Kaminsky, will you marry me?”

Fedyor stares at him, utterly blankly, seized with the horrible fear that Ivan is making fun of him. “Have you – are you – are you serious?”

“Yes.” Ivan reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box. “I wanted to do this in a different way, but maybe this is better. Fedya, I don’t – I can’t – I don’t want to live without you. I’ll even move to America if you want to. I’m no good without you. I can’t. Please.”

Fedyor continues to stare at him. Then finally he moves closer, as Ivan holds out the ring with a look of utter, silent entreaty, his heart wrung out and raw in his eyes. “Are you – ” Fedyor’s voice is a whisper. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Ivan says again, strong and steady. “More than I have ever been about anything.”

Fedyor starts to answer, and simply can’t. He starts to shake from head to toe, and Ivan scoots forward, still on his knees, and wraps both arms around Fedyor’s waist, burying his face in Fedyor’s stomach. Fedyor clutches hold of him and sinks down, the two of them barely making a sound. Finally, he whispers, “You hate America.”

“I don’t,” Ivan says. “Not really. But either way, I love you, Fedya. And I’m choosing that.”

Fedyor grips Ivan’s face in his hands and kisses him thoroughly, then remembers that he still technically hasn’t accepted his proposal, and he should do that. He holds out his right hand so Ivan can slip on the plain band, with the promise to buy him a nicer one once they get to wherever they’re going. He’ll help with arrangements, he promises. Whatever Fedyor needs him to do.

They board an Aeroflot flight, Moscow Sheremetyevo–New York JFK, on the evening of August 3, 2013, with all their worldly belongings either in the cargo hold or waiting to be shipped over by Fedyor’s parents. They hold hands in the terminal, unobtrusively, and when they get on the plane. And even as the jet engines roar into takeoff and the lights of his homeland fall away into the clouds for what might be the last time in who knows how long, Fedyor Kaminsky can’t help but feeling, once again, ready to start anew.

[fific7]

Dangerous and Divine - Part 11

Billy Russo x Reader

Summary: Billy Russo is an itch you don’t want to scratch. But he’s all over you like a rash.

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly fluff & lemon zest 🍋 The GIF is from Exposed, unreleased pilot show in case you’re wondering 😌... Billy vibes.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content including oral and unprotected* sex between consenting adults. Some voyeurism. Some drinking & swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My GIF)

Wanting to turn round and get the hell out of there, Madani found herself rooted to the spot. It was like car crash TV... she just couldn’t bring herself to look away. So, she stood there and just watched.

She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, she just stared at the scene in front of her. The room door was at her back and she went along with it involuntarily as it swung closed behind her. Coming to rest against it, she drew in a long breath.

Her eyes were glued to that damn cute ass of Billy’s. Watching it... relentlessly, hypnotically moving up and down, up and down, up and down. Listened to his breathy moans and low grunts as he pounded in and out of her. Uhh, uhh, unnhhh, unnhhh. Caught glimpses of his balls between his legs, snapping backwards with each thrust. A sheen of sweat visible across his shoulders and back. Saw one hand making its way down to where their bodies were joined, his other running gently along her thigh.

Her! she thought venomously. It should be me... he should be on top of me in that bed!

But still she watched. And watched. It was really dim in the room, and she realised the curtains were almost fully closed. She found herself craning her neck forward slightly to get a better look.

She watched as he kept on thrusting, then she noticed the muscles in his ass eventually tense up. Another three or four shorter thrusts, then she heard Billy cry out. Heard him breathe her name, saw him lowering his head to rest on her shoulder for a moment before bringing it up to her face; she just knew he was kissing her now. “I love you,” Madani heard him say, and more kisses followed.

The breath she’d taken in left her lips in a long hiss. This was just so not fucking fair!

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You reached up off the pillows to kiss Billy’s beardy chin above you, but a sudden movement near the door caught your eye. You let out a small shriek as you saw a shadowy figure standing there and Billy leaned back immediately, looking at you anxiously. You pointed towards the door and his head shot round in that direction. A snarl appeared on his lips and he roughly grabbed the bedcovers, quickly pulling them over the two of you. He leaned up on his elbows, looking over his shoulder at the intruder.

“Madani!!!” he yelled, “You... you fuckin’.... Get the fuck outta here!!!”

You heard the door slam, and raised your face from where you’d hidden it against Billy’s chest. You hadn’t been able to make out who it was in the low light. “That was her?” you asked him, and he nodded, throwing back the covers and sitting up against the pillows, running both hands through his wayward hair. “Yeah,” he replied, “yeah, it fuckin’ was. That crazy fucking bitch.”

You also sat up, bringing the sheet across you and under one arm, “What the hell was she doing in your room, Billy?” You were glaring at him, and he quickly put his hand on your cheek, “I have no idea, angel... truly I don’t. Please don’t be thinkin’ this was some kinda hookup, cos it wasn’t! I’m gonna fuckin’ strangle her.... urrrhhhh!!” You could see that he was absolutely furious.

Reassured, you softened your gaze. He carried on, “We’re not due to meet up with her for another half hour. She musta been given a pass key and for whatever reason, came chargin’ in here.”

You ran your fingers up through his hair, sweeping it back from his forehead, “Billy, I swear I’m gonna nail Agent Madani’s ass to the wall when all this is done!”

“You and me both, sweetheart,” Billy said grimly.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy had got up and showered (with you) after that, then he’d unpacked his black tactical suit and got into it. While you were busy admiring how he looked in it - like, really damn sexy - after a long and passionate kiss, he’d left you in the room, telling you to doublelock the door and not to open it for anyone except him.

You’d been made to promise on the lives of everyone you held dear that you’d stay there, until he got back. He didn’t know exactly when that would be, which you had to admit pissed you off a bit but you understood he couldn’t give you a precise time and why. It’s just you didn’t like the thought of being cooped up in the room all day.

Oh well, you had the TV, the movie channels, the mini bar... and room service. Your eyes lit up. Room service!!

Eager to get ordering, you started looking for the menu in the pile of hotel stuff on the funky reclaimed wooden desk, which was underneath a huge ornate mirror. You caught sight of yourself in it as you did so. Ohh... okay, you’d better lose the “I’ve Just Been Fucked Senseless” look before the room service guy arrived, otherwise you might just give him the fright of his life.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Dinah Madani had stumbled out of Billy’s room, letting the door slam behind her. She took off along the corridor at a cracking pace, face flaming red, heading for the fire exit stairs. She smoothed down the fabric of her jacket with her hands, then ran them down onto her trousers, trying to calm her breathing as she went.

She replayed the vision of Billy’s naked body in her mind, of him having sex, blocking out the inconvenient fact that he’d been in bed with someone else.

Damn, she was aroused. She could feel how damp her panties were as she walked. How was she supposed to get the handsome big bastard out of her head now, after seeing that display? In her head, she transposed herself into that bed, underneath him. She could almost feel him inside her.

And every time she looked at him from now on? Yes - she was going to be imagining him naked. And it wouldn’t be to give herself more self-confidence in front of a bunch of people, like they taught you to do in those self-help courses.

As she started making her way down the stairs, she mentally shook herself - she’d better get her head back in the game or this could all go horribly wrong.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy had taken the same route down a couple of floors to the room being used as the base of operations. He was still fuming about Dinah’s little voyeuristic visit to his room. What the fuck was she thinking, coming into his room unannounced? If he hadn’t been otherwise engaged he could’ve shot her! And just how long had she been standing there, watching him make love to his girl?

Weird bitch, he thought, but I’ll settle the score with her once this is all over.

He knocked once on the door, saw an eye appear in the spyhole and then the door opened. Frank and the rest of the Anvil team were already there, along with Madani and her Homeland agents. He glared at Madani but she wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Frank winked and grinned at him, fully aware of the ‘operation’ Billy had been on prior to arriving. Wait till he told him about Madani’s latest little stunt!

They got down to business, running through the details of the op and all the ‘what if’s’ and Plan A, Plan B, Plan C scenarios once again. Everyone was given their positions, tasked with certain duties, told to make sure their earpieces were in and working. The two teams started leaving the room and dispersing to their designated locations. The undercover agent remained to get a further briefing from Billy, Frank and Madani, then he too left to go to his room where the meet would take place.

That left the three of them, plus the Homeland agents who’d be monitoring all the comms and security cameras. Billy marched right up to Madani, towering over her and glaring so furiously at her that it was a wonder she didn’t catch on fire. In a very low voice that only the three of them could hear, he bit out, “I’m sayin’ nothing right now about what happened earlier, Dinah - we need to be totally focused on this fuckin’ op - but we’re gonna be having a conversation about it at some point.”

He caught sight of Frank’s puzzled face but just gave him a small shake of the head. “Right,” he said, “c’mon Frankie, let’s go and check the perimeters.”

The two of them left, leaving Madani to pace the room and watch the CCTV screens over the shoulders of her agents. She hadn’t said a word directly to Billy or looked him in the eye during the entire briefing.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy strode along the corridor so quickly that Frank had to really hurry to catch him up. “Hey, Bill! What’s up with you and Madani now?” Billy shook his head, “Dunno that I should talk about it, Frankie, I’m still fuckin’ furious with her, and I really gotta concentrate on all this shit that’s goin’ down today.” They reached the stairs, Billy opening the fire door and they started down the steps.

Frank grabbed his arm and they both stopped walking. “Don’t forget I know you better’n you know yourself, Russo. If you don’t get this off ya chest, you’re gonna explode. And that ain’t what we need right now.”

Billy leaned his back against the wall and sighed, “Yeah, you’re right.” He broke eye contact with Frank, saying, “She’s got a master key for the rooms.” Frank said warily, “Yeah, I know she does... and?”

“Came crashin’ into our room, when I was... we were...” Frank’s eyes got huge, “havin’ sex. Stood there for fuck knows how long watchin’ us, till we finally noticed her after... after we finished, an’ I yelled at her to get out.”

“For fuck’s sake!” Frank said through gritted teeth, “What the fuck’s wrong with that woman?!”

Shaking his head, Billy shrugged, “I dunno, Frank. She’s got issues, that’s for sure.” He turned and started down the stairs again, “C’mon, let’s get this shitshow on the road.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d ended up having the most pleasant day to yourself. Leisurely soak in the spa bath, several room service orders (repairs having been carried out before the waiter’s first visit), several little trips to and from the mini-bar for G&T’s. You’d finished the gin now, and had moved on to vodka & coke. Not your favourite but beggars, choosers etc.

You’d been on one of the big movie channels, and so far you were three fantasy films, two rom-coms and a heist movie into their list. In fact you’d started drifting off to sleep as you got towards the end of the heist movie, and made yourself sit up to make sure you didn’t doze off. You gazed back at the massive wall-mounted TV and tried to pick up whereabouts you were in the plot. Oh right - bank robbery.

The bad guys ran into the bank, firing shots into the air and getting everyone to lie down on the floor. But there was that one hero security guard, who drew his gun and tried to shoot the bad guy gang leader. Cue good guy getting shot, up rolls a police armed response unit, cue gun battle, various dead good and bad guys, oh and here’s the car chase as a couple of baddies got away.

Hey hang on, the gun battle’s still going on, but neither the cops or the bad guys are shooting at each other as they’re too busy doing handbrake turns and screeching round corners.

It dawned on you the gunfire you could hear was in your freaking hotel. Leaping up and zipping over to the window, you saw various black SUV’s parked randomly in the middle of the street, blue lights flashing and doors wide open, but apart from crowds of the general public running for cover, there was no-one in sight round the big cars.

You could still hear the rattle of gunfire, and then all of a sudden it went eerily quiet.

Breathing unsteadily, you had a nasty feeling in the pit of your stomach and your hand wavered towards the doorhandle. The temptation to open it was huge. ‘No!’ screeched the sensible part of your brain, ‘for just once in your life.... Do. What. You’re. Told.” Your hand went back to your side. Okay, you win, you told your brain glumly.

You walked back over and sat on the bed, ended the movie - the bad guys were probably either A) going to get away or B) get caught - so you could live without seeing the end of it. Starting to flick through the programme guide, you finally found a news channel, but they had nothing about the hotel or ‘shots fired’.

So you spent the next thirty minutes sitting on the bed for 3 minutes then getting up and pacing, then sitting on the bed again for another 3 minutes, then pacing again... hit the repeat button on that scenario until there was a big knock at the door.

You headed over to the door but didn’t put your eye to the peephole, having seen a film once where someone got shot in the eye that way. Yes, you did watch a lot of movies, what of it! So you just called out, standing to one side, so you wouldn’t get shot through the door either (yes, yes, saw that in the movies too), “Who’s that?!”

Billy’s voice said, “It’s me, sweetheart. Can you let me in? And don’t get upset but I got grazed a coupla times by bullets so I’m bleedin’ quite a bit.”

Don’t get upset? you thought, he’s gotta be joking hasn’t he? You hastily unlocked and pulled open the door, and you saw a very pale-faced Billy leaning on the doorframe, blood on his face and on one of his arms. You could see ripped fabric on the sleeve of his tactical suit where the blood was coming from.

“Oh, Billy,” you said, worried, dragging him into the room and slamming the door closed.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@blackbirddaredevil23 @galaxyjane @omgrachwrites @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead

[skycollides]

They Can Never Have Yesterday

Billy Russo x Reader

Authors note: I apologize in advance for grammar mistakes

English isn’t my native language.

Let me know if you want to be tagged.

Requests are open. Feel free to send them in.

Song: Yesterday by Leona Lewis

Warning: mentions of death, guns, shooting, heartbreak, swearing, no happy end

Words: 2.182

If anyone told you about 1 and a half year ago it would come down to this - you would have thought the person absolutely crazy. 

Here you are in your apartment, pointing a gun on the love of your life. The guy you thought you would spend the rest of your life with.

’’Leave Billy. I thought I was clear when I told you I want you to leave me alone.’’ you say with a firm voice trying not to show him how much he scares you.

’’Y/n.’’ Billy says and takes a step forward which causes you to take a step back.

’’Stay where you are or I’ll shoot you. I will kill you if I have to William.’’

’’Let me explain darling.’’ 

’’What is there to explain? All of this is your fault. Yours and no.one else’s. You got Maria and the kids killed. They were our family Billy. How could you? I don’t even know who you are anymore or how far you’ll go for money. Am I next? Will you get me killed to or will you kill me yourself?’’ tears are welling up in your eyes but you try to hide them.

’’They weren’t meant to die. Frank should be the one dead not Maria and the kids. I did it for us. For our future, to be able to take care of you. You and me against the world Y/n. I would never hurt you.’’

’’Never hurt me? You hurt me more than you’ll ever know. For us are you out of your mind? I was with you before the money and guess what? I loved you for the man you were back then. I don’t need all this fancy stuff to be happy. All I needed was you and your love but I guess that was too much to ask for. You became a selfish prick that only cares about himself, money and status. I wish I’d never met you Russo. You’re a monster.’’

’’Don’t say that baby. I’m still the man you love.’’

’’Don’t call me that! I don’t wanna hear you call me that ever again.’’

’’Why?’’

’’Because that’s what you most likely called Madani.’’ Billy stares at you with wide eyes.

’’What don’t look at me like that. Did you seriously think I wouldn’t find out? Oh Billy you’ve got so much to learn. First of all when you lie to someone make sure all parties are on board. Second you shouldn’t have gone to places where me and my friends hangout. I’ve seen you with her all cozy and so did my friends so don’t even try to deny it.’’

’’Babe please take the gun down. I’ll explain everything.’’

’’So you can kill me and throw my body in the Hudson River? No thank you. It’s fine the way it is.’’

’’You really think I could do that the love of my life?.’’

’’As I was saying before you let our family get killed. I’m not sure what you’re capable of right now.’’ you say and now the tears are streaming down you face.

’’Y/n , my sweet Y/n.’’ Billy says and comes closer which you don’t realize because you’re trying to whip the tears away. Billy uses your inattentive moment to take you to slap the gun out of your hand. It slides over the floor and stops right under your couch. You look at hime with wide eyes and try to get away from him. He runs after you and grabs you from behind carrying you to the bedroom the both of you used to share. Once you’re inside the locks the door and put the key in his pocket. You scream and kick and try to get out of his hold but it’s useless. Billy drops you on the bed and you move back against the wall, pulling your knees up to your chest. He sits down on what used to be his side and gives you a sad smile.

’’I meant what I said earlier Y/n. I won’t hurt you. Not now and not in the future.’’ he says with a calm voice. You don’t say anything you simply out your head on your knees and hope he will leave soon. Leave without finding out the secret that you’ve been keeping from him.

’’Talk to me my love.’’

’’What do you want me to say Russo? Hey I know you’re a murderer but fuck it lets get married run away and play happy family. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but you’re wanted. Everyone is looking for you.’’

’’That’s quite the idea you’ve got there.’’ he says and get off the bed lays on the floor and get out a small carton. He opens it and pulls something out. A small velvet box. He hands it you and you open the box. Inside there is the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen.

’’That’s the ring I was gonna propose to you with. Well before all the shit went down. I was serious when I said that you’re the one for me. Madani was using me to get to Frank and I was using her to get the information I needed nothing more. There were no feelings involved form my side. You were always on my mind Y/n. Ever since I met you 8 years ago it was always you that’s been on my mind no one else. I would die for you Y/n. I would die before I would let anything happen to you. I love you Y/n. I love you like I’ve never loved anyone before. I know I lied to you a lot in the past but saying that I love you was never one of them.’’ his speech is interrupted by a crying baby.

Your eyes go wide. This was the one thing you’ve been trying for hide since he showed up.

’’Y/n what is this?’’ he asks confused and gets off the bed heading to the bedroom door unlocking it. You jump off the bed and go after him. When you reach him he is already in your sons room staring in front of the bed.

’’Don’t hurt him please.’’ you plead.

’’Y/n come on who do think I am? Who’s kid is this?’’ he asks stares at you.

’’Ours Billy. This is our son.’’ you say and take the crying infant rocking him in your arms.

’’How? What? When?’’ 

’’You know how Billy or do you need a lecture about bees and flowers? When I found out? The day you and Frank were trying to kill each other. I was already 12 weeks along. I kept it secret too scared that someone would come after him because his dad fucked up peoples lives. Any other questions?’’ you say to him with an eyebrow raised.

’’What’s his name?’’ 

’’Aiden - Aiden William Russo.’’

’’Why? After everything I did to you - to us.’’

’’Because when I look at hime I remember all the good times we had. The love we shared. Aiden is a product of our love. I felt right to name him after his dad.’’

’’Can I hold him?’’ he asks and you look at him.

’’Please Y/n?’’ he begs and you give in. You hand him your son and he sits down in the rocking chair next to the bed.

’’Hey Buddy.’’ he says softly and kisses his forehead.

’’God he’s so beautiful Y/n.’’ he says and smiles. You can’t remember the last time you’ve seen him smile like this.

’’You did so well princess. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to take care of you two. I never imagined it would be like this when we have a child. I always thought we’d be living happily together. Why am I such a fuck up honestly?’’ he says to himself but you heard it too.

’’You thought about us having children?’’ you ask him surprised. In your eyes you’ve never seen Billy as a family man, this is completely new for you.

’’Didn’t expect that to be honest.’’

’’What’’

’’You wanting to have a family with me. Wanting me to be the mother of your children.’’

’’I’ve pictured it so often Y/n you have no idea.’’ he says and the little one stirs in his arms.

’’Shhh daddy’s here you’re safe. Nothing is gonna happen buddy.’’ Billy says and the baby calms down again. You look at the two of them for a while before you speak up.

’’Just because I’m not pointing the gun at you right now and you have our son in your arms I forgot what you did Billy. We will never have what we used to have before all the shit went down. I don’t think I’ll be able to trust you again. I don’t know who you are anymore. Hell I was scared you’d hurt our son. That’s what you actions caused.’’

’’We can make this work Y/n’’ Billy says and you shake your head.

’’I think Frank hit your head in this mirror too often. William you are wanted! The police is out looking for you. The CIA, FBI I wouldn’t even surprised if homeland was involved. Leaving my trust issues out of this right know- How the hell would this work in any way?’’

’’I have a fake passport and I set up a bank account I had it already planed before shit went south. The original plan was to kill Frank, take you and get the hell out of here. We still can do that. Get out of here and raise our son - together. I know I haven’t given you any reason to trust me lately but I all I want - all I ever wanted was to be with you. You’re my source of happiness Y/n and now this little one here too.’’

’’I don’t know that to say Billy’’

’’I’m not forcing you to say anything at all. I just want you to consider it.’’

You don’t know what to do. On one hand he’s the love of your life, the father of your child and on the other hand he’s a murderer who is responsible for the death of the castles and many other people.

’’Okay’’ you say.

’’Okay what?’’

’’Okay we’ll come with you but I swear to god if you hurt me in any way I’ll kill you in your sleep and make it look like an accident. I’m not kidding!’’

’’That’s my girl’’ he says and smile before he gets up and hand you your son. He kisses your forehead and says

’’I’ll take care of everything pack only necessary things for you and our son. I’ll come and get you when everything is set okay?’’ he says and you nod.

’’See you then my love. Bye Aiden daddy’s gonna come and get you soon. I love you buddy’’ he says and kisses his tiny hand before he leave the room.

’’Lock the door behind me sweetheart. I’ll reach out to you tonight. I love you Y/n!’’ 

’’I love you too.’’ you say and hear your front door close.

You put the baby in his bed and do as Billy advised you. After that you look for your gun under the couch and get it out before putting it back to its place. Then you go and start packing for the day Billy is going to come to get you and Aiden. Once you’re done you take a seat on the couch and wait. Wait for a new beginning with Billy and your son, as a family.

Little did you know that this day won’t come. Not tomorrow, not the day after tomorrow, never. Why? because Frank Castle killed Billy Russo as soon as he made it to the place where he was hiding ever since he escaped. He died knowing that the woman he loved, loved him too. She loved him enough to look past his mistakes and have a future with him. He died knowing that his son will have a wonderful mother to raise him and that she will make sure that Aiden will know that his father loved him from the moment he met him.

They can take tomorrow and the plans we made

They can take the music that we never play

They can take the future we’ll never know

They can take all the places we said we will go

All the broken dreams take everything

Just take it away

They can never have yesterday.

This is the song you chose for the funeral. The funeral no one attended except for you and your son. This pretty much summed up what Frank Castle took away from you that day, from you and little Aiden. Now you’re staying here staring at the tombstone thinking about all the days you and Billy shared.

’’Rest easy my love.’’ you say and kiss your fingertips before pressing them to the tombstone. You put Aiden back in the baby stroller and leave. Leaving the love of your life behind in the cold.

Taglist:

@justatiredfool​

@artemisausten​

[operation-619]

plus size reader x homelander perhaps

Homelander x Plus Size Reader 

Edited 17-01-21

15+

Just want you to know that the colour of skin in this Gif doesn’t determine the colour of the skin of the reader. 

Warnings; Language, mentions of indecent exposure, blood, indecent thoughts, mentions of anxiety and past trauma and BLOODPLAY. Read at your own discretion. 

WC - 2.4k

MASTERLIST

The suns’ arms were surrounding the city, squeezing it tight in its’ warm embrace. The light bounced off the windows and made the city look crystallised. (Y/N) stood with her eyes solely focused on the horizon; the warmth penetrated through the window and caressed her cheeks. She closed her eyes and sighed. This was what she needed after today, the man-child Translucent was caught up in another public scandal – he was caught being a peeping tom, again.

(Y/N)’s eyes closed as she released a deep breathe before she plonked her head onto the cold glass window, the contrasting temperature soothed her rising headache.

“I need a glass of whiskey, make it a whole bottle.” (Y/N) whispered under her breath. She was so close to braking down and everyone around her knew it, she wasn’t snapping at everyone like Ashley or Stillwell did. No, she would just stare at them and walk away because if she were to open her mouth god knows what would come out. It is not like they could fire her, they fucking needed her, but god was she close to killing a super.

She turned her head and made eye contact with the tray of alcohol that was beckoning her over, she weighed the options in her head – she is still technically working but if she doesn’t leave the room then no one will know.

The smile that graced her face was what sealed her fate.

The whiskey warmed her throat deliciously on its way down that she almost forgot about the man that caused her so much stress, almost. Groaning loudly, she placed the glass back on the tray and grabbed the bottle of whiskey by its’ neck and walked over to the desk that was tucked in the corner of the room.

“Fucking Translucent, always causing me trouble. I should’ve told Stillwell no when I had the fucking chance,” she opened her laptop and began the work she had been dreading since this morning; Mondays were supposed to be her good days, the start afresh day were Mondays and that nonce had completely shat on that for her.

She was immersed in her temper tantrum that she jumped out of her skin when her phone rang. ‘Madelyn Stillwell’ was calling, she couldn’t stop staring at the name in bold that was screaming at her to pick up the phone. She didn’t even know what she was going to say.

‘Fuck’.

“Hello (Y/N) (L/N) speaking.” The silence made her heart shrink in on itself.

“Ahh, (Y/N) good to finally speak to you I have been trying to get a hold of you since this morning.”

“Sorry Madelyn, I have been trying to figure my piece out. I just needed to be shut away from everything for a minute.”

More silence followed, she hated it. (Y/N) drummed her fingers against the glass table-top impatiently as she waited for Madelyn to speak up again. After a few seconds she pulled the phone away from her ear to check she was still connected to the line.

“(Y/N) hello? Yes, sorry about that, I completely understand. I just wanted to let you know that the conference is in two hours. And after today you can have the week off. Okay?”

“Say that again?” laughter echoed through the phone, (Y/N) grimaced as she realised, she just said that out loud.

“God, five years on the job and you still surprise me (L/N), you have the week off. We, sorry I will deal with Translucent properly after the conference okay. I will see you in two hours.”

“Ok- “the line was disconnected before she could properly thank Madelyn. (Y/N) tried to break down the conversation that had just taken place, Stillwell sounded happy, but was she?

‘That week she wants me to have off is going to turn into never coming back, (Y/N) you asshat’, (Y/N) let out a shaky breath before looking at her watch, she could do this. It’s the same as last time, apologise to the press and explain the circumstances. The circumstance being that Translucent was being a peeping tom in the ladies visitors bathroom and got caught by a bystander.

“I’m going to kill that invisible son of a bitch.”

Two hours later….

“Ladies and gentlemen, if you could take your seats please the press conference is about to begin.”

The room was buzzing with talk and bodies, but (Y/N) didn’t notice.

She was too busy staring out the floor to ceiling window looking at the people passing below her, such simple boring people naïve to everything around them. The corruption and selfishness that she has witnessed ever since she started working at Vought has made her regret taking off her rose-gold glasses. The world she lives in now is scary, she use to fall asleep at night knowing that she was safe and that the superheroes would defend her no matter what. But now, when she shuts her eyes, she is drowning in the screams of those that could have – could’ve been spared, could’ve been saved – they never leave her because they know she’ll crack eventually. And she can see it, her face is puffy from the lack of sleep, her eyes are practically swimming in their bags, her shoulders can’t even carry the weight of alcohol – they use to carry everything she had going on her life.

And she had a really painful ingrown toenail that has been biting her for weeks.

(Y/N)’s hands smooth down her dress, the folds that use to make her weak and anxious now give her strength and a power of her own. She has struggled with the way she looked since she was a young girl, but her mother had always made her realise that she didn’t need to look like Victoria secret model to command the attention of everyone. Her rolls, cellulite and stretch marks have been with her through everything and she sure as hell will never make them leave her.

(Y/N) notice that Stillwell’s speech was coming to an end and checked herself in the reflection of the mirror, she went to go turn around when something in the corner of her (E/C) eyes made her turn back around to look out the window. But before she could investigate further the roar of applause made her turn her attention to Stillwell welcoming her on stage.

Smoothing down her dress one more time she strutted on to the stage and waved gracefully at the camera. Giving Madelyn a quick hug she turned to the podium and spoke with her voice loud and confident:

“Thank you all for making it today, Randy looking beautiful as ever,’ the crowd chuckled as Randy bowed towards (Y/N), ‘but we need not be distracted by Randy’s radiance. Unfortunately, there has been an incident involving Translucent exposing himself to a member of the public, and I can tell you know that the woman has our sincere apologies.” (Y/N) placed her hand over her heart and smiled sweetly at everyone, god it made her sick.

“As you all know, for Translucent to be, well, Translucent he has to be as naked as the day he was born. And recently we have had a few security threats in the building. He was following a lead that led him to a part of the building that he doesn’t quite know. Our bathrooms are gender neutral, to make everyone feel safe in included. We have talked to the victim of the exposure,’ (Y/N) made sure her chin was high and her voice was clear, if she stopped her true feelings were going to come out. And she couldn’t afford another scandal, ‘she was understanding about the situation, and we made sure she had everything she needed. I can assure you, ladies, gentlemen, and others. That once Translucent comes back from Palestine, you will have a sincere apology from the super himself. Any questions?”

She instantly regretted that question as the light and noise that arose once she finished talking made her believe she was entering heaven and hell.

(Y/N) closed her eyes briefly and took a deep, deep breath in before opening her eyes and smiling widely.

“(Y/N)! What do you think about the new member of the seven? Starlight?”

_________________

(Y/N)’s heels were off and she couldn’t be more grateful, she slumped her way back to the room she came from with a smile on her face remembering that she had left a half empty bottle of whiskey on the desk. Her eyes were halfway between closed and open after the media conference that went from two hours to six.

The soles of her feet were crying to be out to rest, and her back was already dead. She felt like a zombie, probably looked like one with how slowly she was walking. But when she saw the door to her room, her back straightened and her feet came back to life.

She completely ignored the fact that the door was open as she was too focused on the bottle of heaven calling her name; throwing her shoes into the closet, she turned on the lights and glided over to the desk only to halt when said bottle of heaven was missing.

“What the fuck?” she lifted up the laptop, papers and plant searching for her liquid gold.

“Looking for this?” the scream that left her mouth was surprisingly loud for such an exhausted person, whipping around (E/C) eyes pierced into electric blue. (Y/N) stumbled back into a wall as she tried to comprehend what was right in front of her, or rather who.

He looked different in civilian clothes, boxer shorts and a white t-shirt adorned his body, hiding the perfection underneath. He was sculpted by gods, his thighs made (Y/N)’s mouth water and he knew it by the smirk on his face.  He was stood in his signature pose, hands on hips. And it drove her wild.

(Y/N) bit her lip subconsciously as she looked him up and down before stopping at the bulge between his legs, it was calling her attention begging to be held.

The man in observation raised his eyebrow and cleared his throat. He watched gleefully as (Y/N)’s face contorted into a look of embarrassment, but the smile dropped as he met her eyes and saw the tears threatening to fall.

“Come here.” No question needed; (Y/N) threw herself at the supe in front of her and the tears released themselves from their prison. She stuffed her head in his neck and breathed in his scent, and for once in the past week she finally felt at peace with everything.

“God, I missed you so fucking much,” her voice broke as she moved her head to look into his eyes, her solace. (Y/N) found it ironic how stormy his eyes get yet she finds them so calming, so peaceful.

He was her solace.

His hands cupped the back of her thighs and hoisted her up. Once he got to the bed he turned around and dropped himself onto the bed, never letting go of (Y/N)’s legs. He just sat there, (Y/N) straddling his lap, watching her. He noticed the bags under her (E/C) eyes, and the dried blood on her lips from the continuous lip biting. It brought a sadness to him as he watched the bountiful goddess before him struggle.

“Let it go.” And with those words (Y/N) let the tears stream down her face, the numbness washed itself away with the tears of pain and sorrow. (Y/N) felt the weight that had been dragging her into the floor finally lift off her shoulders.

No more pain, no when she has everything she needs right here.

“I love you John,” and he was all she needed.

She ran her fingers down his neck, the feeling of something sticky caused her to stop and withdraw her hand. Crimson covered her (Y/S/C) hand, coating it to the bone. She started at it, wondering how it got there, the metallic smell invaded her sense as she watched it run down her forearm.

Without a thought, she brought her finger into her mouth and slowly licked the sweet and tempting blood off her finger. Humming to herself, she closed her eyes and tried to saviour the taste for as long as she could. The warmth of the blood lingered in her throat, coating it as it travelled down her trachea. (Y/N) opened her eyes as she finished swallowing the last drop and smiled sweetly down at the man trapped between her legs.

“Did they suffer?” her tongue swept over her teeth, licking off the remainder of the pleasant treat her man brought home. She watched at the smirk stitched itself onto his face, answering her question. She giggled softly before diving towards him, biting his bottoms lip before devouring him into a kiss of passion and lust.

John grunted quietly as he felt her pierce his bottom lip, but that grunt turned into a delicious moan as (Y/N) suckled the wound.

“Did they scream?” her question was breathless and quick as she frantically tore apart his shirt, hands roaming the body sculpted by God. (Y/N) pulled away, smiling to herself when she watched John try to chase her lips, she looked down at his body and frowned slightly when she realised, he healed before he came back to her.

Looking up at John through her eyelashes, she slightly traced the muscle of her superhero.

“Can I Homelander.” The eyes of the man in question turned dark with lust as he pieced together what (Y/N) wanted. He watched intently as she leaned over to the side and withdrew a knife from the end table. He watched the little sparkle in her (E/C) eyes turn into an explosion as she pierced his skin, he watched as her tongue swept through the valley of blood on his stomach. He watched everything his woman did to him and he loved every last bit of it.  

John cupped (Y/N) face after a while and brought it towards his face, he wiped of the blood on the corner of her mouth. The life had come back to her face, the tears had dried and the bags look less looming. His girl was back, and he was going to make sure that joy he sees now, never leaves her face. Even if it means killing a few people, or a few thousand he’d do it without a second thought.

“I love you (Y/N).”

[impossiblelibrary]

Today's rant brought to you by: Queer Eye Japan, can we all just try to be as kind as they try to be?

After watching the Queer Eye Japan super short season, I wanted to google to see the overall reaction to the show, make sure that my western eyes were correct in seeing the care that was given to the culture. Were cultural taboos, other than being outwardly gay, crossed? So I find this article in the top results and other than the perspective, why tho? Tokyoesque.com had an article with a higher reading level, with surface level appreciation but at least better written.

I can't get over this hate article though. Unfounded, dumb, wrong and incorrect. Do not go forward unless you like that blistering kind of anger from me.

But the reasons just get weaker as the article extends: "Hurts the country it set out to save?" Looking for white savior much? They did not go to save Japan, they gave some free shit to like 4-5 people, think smaller.

Their culture guide wasn't gay enough.

You want to suggest any lgbt insta models or celebrities, use your platform to raises some up?

"There is a growing sexless culture in Japan for married and unmarried people, and it is perilous watching Queer Eye present this without any context behind what is driving this behavior."

Sexiness is what the fab 5 embrace, unfortunately and it was probably discussed behind the scenes of how much talking about sex was allowed or polite and the conversation of not having sex is closer to the tip of the tongue rather than the feeling of sexiness. The West is not the ones blasting that information. It is across multiple Japanese printed newspapers and online stories by now and the "context" is still being discussed and debated amongst Japanese. So I don't think any outsiders should be weighing in or "explaining" this phenomenon. We can repeat what we have been told but guessing at the reasons is not our place. The reasons illustrated by the author of the article seem lacking, a take but not the only one, but who am I to speak on that being in a sexual relationship with someone who pulls from that culture?

Kiko begins to lecture Yoko-san on how she “threw away her womanhood” (referring to a Japanese idiom, onna wo suteru) by going makeup-free and wearing drab, shapeless clothes.

The mistranslation by the subtitles fixed by this author was necessary information. But Kiko didn't lecture her on it, it was brought up by Yoko before any of them arrived, that was her theme, that was what she had decided to focus on. Meanwhile, if you watched Jonathan, he understood there was no time to spend on makeup and skincare so provided her a one instrument, 3 points of color on the skin to feel prettier. That and the entire episode being the 5 treating her like a woman on a date, not trying to hook her up, which is what they did in American eps.

"In teaching a Japanese woman, who already struggles to find time for herself, how to make an English recipe, Antoni is making great TV and nothing more."

So Antoni shouldn't have taught her apple pie because it's too exotic for a Japanese woman. (Can you smell the sexism?)

He didn't make an apple pie, altho Yoko did mention her mother made that for her when she was a kid. He made an apple tartine after going to a Japanese bakery who makes that all the time. Then highlighted the apples came from Fuji in true Japanese media fashion. Honey, American television doesn't usually highlight where the ingredients come from. A Japanese producer told him to do that. So all worries handled within the same ep. She got Japanese ingredients, had the recipe shown to her and then made it for her friends in her own house. Did the author actually watch this show or nah?

"beaten over the head with his western self-help logic. “You have to live for yourself,” he says."

The style of build up the 5 went for was confrontational but in a "I'm fighting for you" way. It's hard to describe, but the best I can say is, a person has multiple voices in their head, from parents, siblings, society, and maybe themselves. By being loud and obnoxious, American staples right there, they are adding one more voice. You deserve this, you are amazing, you are worth it. I know this is against most Japanese cultural modesty, but maybe it shouldn't be.

Sarcasm lies ahead:

Apparently: mispronunciation is microaggressions, not just someone who had a sucky school system. Yea okay, They're laughing at the language not at how stumbling these monolinguals are with visiting another country. Mmhm. Japanese don't say I love you and don't touch and that should stay that way instead of maybe, once in awhile, feeling like they can hug. Yeah, let's just ignore Yoko's break down that she had never hugged her lifelong friend after hugging strangers multiple times. Maid cafes are never sexualized in Japan ever, just don't go down that one street in Akihabara where the men are led off by the hand sheepishly blushing. Gag me. And Japanese men love to cry in front of their wives and would never break down once the wife leaves. I have never seen a Japanese movie showcase that move. Grr.

"I identify as many cultures."

So you're a Japanese man when it's convenient for you to get an article published? Are you nationally Japanese or just ethnically or culturally?

Homeland is an inherently racist word?

"After the Bush administration created the Department of Homeland Security after the 9/11 terrorist attacks, a Republican consultant and speechwriter Peggy Noonan urged, “the name Homeland Security grates on a lot of people, understandably. Homeland isn’t really an American word, it’s not something we used to say or say now.”

Yes, let's use a Washington Post article rather than a etymology professor. Yes, the google search results increased after 2001 Homeland Security was used but the word has been around since the 1660s and I've read multiple turn of the century lit on white people returning to their homeland, i.e. the town off the coast they were born in.

"But" is not disagreeing. I think the repeated offender for the author is the not acknowledging the makeover-ees feelings. But, that is how LGBT have decided to deal with the inner voices that invade from society. They are just that, not our own, they are the influence of society, and we can choose, we have to choose, to be influenced by someone, anyone else.

Karamo can't speak about being black when an Asian is speaking about being Asian, even though the Asian gay man was feeling alone. It's called relating bitches, and I'm done with people saying that is redirecting the conversation, it's extending the conversation. That's how we talk, the spotlight is shared, especially when someone's about to cry and doesn't want to be seen as crying, time to turn the spotlight.

The gay monk wasn't good enough, you should have invited the gay politician.

Yeah, causes I'm sure a politician has all the time in the world for a quick stint and cry. They picked a Japanese monk who travels to NY because they had a guest who travels to the West too. Did you want him to stop traveling back and forth? Did you want a pure, ethnic and cultural Japanese gay man who has no ties to the west to talk to this Western educated young man? Seriously?

This is just not how it works in Japan.

Being in a multi-cultural marriage between two rebels, discussions on facets of culture are plenty in my household. Culture should be respected enough to be considered but not held on a pedestal like we should never adjust or throw some things out. LGBT being quiet and private for instance. "Being seen" was Jonathan's advice, and a good one especially for a Japanese gay man that was called feminine since he was a kid. Some gay men can hide, but as Jonathan said, he couldn't hide what he was, he couldn't hide this. So fuck it. Don't hide. It's actually more dangerous for a feminine man to come off as anxious rather than gay and proud. It makes you more of a target if they think you won't fight back. Proud means, Imma throw hands too, bitch.

This is also from the civil rights playbook going back to Black America: never hold a protest or a fight without the cameras, without being seen. LGBT have found the more seen they are, in media, in the streets, the better off we are. When LGBT Americans were being "private" about our lifestyles, we died, a la 1980s. They won't care if you start dying off if they never saw you to begin with.

And hence why I think the author's real anger is from these 5 being seen dancing flamboyantly in Shibuya, in Harajuku, afforded the privilege of doing this safely because of their tourist status, cameras and very low violence rate in Tokyo, loud and obnoxiously. Honestly, they wouldn't have been invited or nominated if they didn't want that brash American-ness coming into their home, just for a taste, at least.

Here's my real anger, my own jealousy: Japan's queer community currently does not have marriage or adoption rights. US does, so we have progressed further. But we are also not that many years from being tied to cow fences with barbed wire, beaten with baseball bats and left for dead overnight. If things are so bad over there, maybe take a few pages from the civil right playbook we took so much time to perfect and produced by the Black Americans who fought first. But so far, I only hear loss of jobs and marriages, which we still have here too. Stop trying to divide us, we are one community, LGBT around the world and we are here to try to help. Take it or leave it, it's not like we're going to go organize your own Pride parade for you.

Rant over? I guess. Is this important enough to be put in the google results along with his. Hell no, anyone with half a mind can see he's reaching more than half the time. And any argument about: this wasn't covered! There are a shit ton of conversations that are not covered in the 45 min they have. They are not a civil rights show, it's a makeover show, doing their best in that direction anyway. Know what it is.

Next blog post, what research I would guess was happening behind the scenes for each of the 5? I'm pretty sure I saw Jonathan doing Japanese style makeup there...

[alwaysachorusgirl]

An Exile of Our Own Making

Pairing: Rafael Barba x Reader

Word Count: 1,023

Square: “Exile” by Taylor Swift

TW: very mild swearing, a lot of angst, brief mentions of therapy

Tagging: @thatesqcrush (And if anyone wants to be tagged in a future post, please let me know. I don’t have a tag list yet, but I can make one.)

A/N: Songs lyrics used are in bold. This takes place prior to “Sightless in a Savage Land”, and I do have a follow-up story planned.

           When you walked into Forlini’s a few days before Christmas Eve you weren’t sure what to expect. You certainly hadn’t been expecting Rafael to call and ask to see you after almost three years. Your therapist probably would have said that this was a bad idea. And she would be right. She usually was, even though half the time, you didn’t want to hear it. You were meeting your former lover, whom you had never gotten over, in a place that served alcohol. This had disaster written all over it, but after you finished your shift at SVU you went anyway. You didn’t tell any of your colleagues that you were meeting him, that would have brought on too many questions that you didn’t feel like answering. The plan was to have a drink, hear him out, say your own piece, maybe get some desperately needed closure? Yeah, it was wishful thinking on that last one.

           You almost didn’t recognize the man you still loved when you first saw him. He was already sitting the bar, nursing a glass of his favorite whiskey. He was still as handsome as you remembered. You had heard from Liv that he had grown a beard, but this was your first time seeing it. It looked good on him. Your heart was now pounding in your chest. A part of you wanted to run right back into his arms, but you held back. This wasn’t the time and there were still too many unresolved issues between the two of you.

           “Is this seat taken?” you inquired, walking up to the bar and sitting down on the stool next to him.

           “Y/N,” he greeted you, a soft smile forming on his lips. “It’s good to see you. What are you drinking?”

           “It’s good to see you too, Rafael, Jack and Coke? Make it a double?”

           He nodded and signaled for the bartender and ordered your drink. The bartender put it down in front of you a minute later. You thanked him and took a sip before turning to Rafael.

           “So, I thought you weren’t going to be back in town until after New Year’s,” you said, trying to keep your tone friendly, but you were balancing on breaking branches, your resolve already on the precipice of cracking.

           “My mother wanted me home for Christmas, and you know how she is about that kind of thing. And I had to get some things squared away with my new apartment before the holidays, so here I am. I really have missed you, Y/N.”

           “I’ve missed you, too, but you could have called sooner, or texted, or emailed, or something, anything…”

           “I know, you’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just that after everything happened, I wasn’t thinking straight. I just knew I needed to get of New York, figure things out. I know how much I hurt you, and I’ll never forgive myself for that- “

           “Do you?” You cut him off. “Do you really have any fucking clue? Because it sure as hell felt like it took you five whole minutes to pack us up and leave me with it! I stood by your side the whole time, I defended you, never gave up on you, and you just left! You broke my heart, Rafael, you broke me…”

           “Cariño, I’m sorry, I never meant- “

           “No Rafael, I don’t want your apologies, or your excuses.” You pushed what was left of your drink away and turned to face him. “I think I’ve seen this film before, and I didn’t like the ending.” The tears were falling down your face, but that wasn’t going to stop you from saying what you’d kept bottled up inside for years. “I would have followed you anywhere, you know that, right?”

           He nodded. “But your job, you career, I just couldn’t let you- “

           “That should have been my choice to make, not yours, “You cut him off again. “I’m a grown-ass woman, and perfectly capable of making my own decisions. We should have talked about it back then, but you shut me out. You made me feel like nothing, no, less than nothing. Actions have consequences, and yours affected everyone around you, including me. Did you ever stop to think about that? To think about me?”

           “Every damn day,” he answered, tears brimming in his own eyes now, “and I’ll never forgive myself for that. I know I screwed up. Leaving you is hardest thing I’ve ever done…”

           “Then why did you do it? You could have chosen me, chosen us, but you chose exile, in the most literal sense of the word. But when you did, you left me stuck in own exile, what my therapist would call a “mental and emotional exile of my own making”. And she’s right about how it’s easier for me to be broken, and miserable, and not get over you, instead of actually making an effort to get on with my life.”

           “Cariño…” Rafael tried reaching for your, but you pulled away, and tossed some cash on the bar from your wallet.

           “No Rafael, I’m not your problem anymore. You made that very clear when you left.” You turned and started to head for the door.

           Wait!” He called after you, and when you stopped and turned back, “for what it’s worth, I still love you. I just need you to know that.”

           “I still love you, too, Rafael, but you’re not my homeland anymore. I can’t let you hurt me again.”

           And with that, you walked out of Forlini’s and left him standing there. You had said what you needed to say, but it only made you hurt that much more. You hailed a cab back to your apartment in Brooklyn. You knew it going to be long night, and you needed time to think. You still loved him, but could you forgive him? Could you let him back into your life? You weren’t sure yet, but you weren’t going to be making that decision tonight. No, tonight you would crawl into bed and cry yourself to sleep. You could plan your next move in the morning.

[noforkingclue]

Forget Me Not Chapter 4 (Billy Butcher x reader)

“Are you alright?”

You groaned at Hughie’s question.

“I have a migraine to end all migraines,” you said quietly, “How the fuck do you think I’m feeling?”

“Right, of course.”

An awkward silence fell between you. Butcher and Frenchie had left the van so it was just you, Hughie and MM left. You were glad to be away from Butcher’s presence for a while. You sighed and tried to sit up but you were too weak. Hughie put a hand on your shoulder to help you up but you shook you head.

“M’fine,” you said, “Look, I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok.”

“It isn’t. Butcher’s a twat for dragging you into this. He’s a bastard for dragging all of you into this.”

MM grunted in agreement while Hughie spluttered,

“I wanted to. I wanted to avenge-“

“Robin. Yeah I know.”

“How did-“Hughie cut himself off and shook his head, “You read my mind.”

You winced at the betrayal in his voice.

“I really can’t turn it off,” you said, “When people have particularly strong thoughts they just… appear in my head. Your hatred for A-Train is very strong. I’m surprised he can’t feel it himself whenever you’re near him.”

A ripple a pain shot through you head and you whimpered slightly.

“Butcher must be loving this.” You said

“Why do you say that?” asked MM

“Well I’m in pain aren’t I?”

“What’s the deal between you two anyway?” MM asked turning around to face you, “Half the time I don’t know if you want to kill each other or fuck each other.”

You opened your eyes, despite the pain, and glared at him.

“There is nothing I’d rather do less than fuck that man,” you said, “Hate isn’t a strong enough word for what I feel for him. I’d rather snog Homelander than that man.”

“Fucking hell,” said MM, “That bad?”

“You have no idea.”

“So what happened?” asked Hughie, “If you want to talk about it that is. You don’t have to if you-“

You interrupted him by waving a hand.

“It’s nothing dramatic,” you said, “Just nicked some money from him that’s all.”

“You stole money from Butcher?” asked Hughie

“Yep.”

“And you got away with it?” asked MM

“Kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“Well I got the money but the bastard found out who I was,” another rippled of pain passed over your head and you clutched it, “Fuck, I shouldn’t have listened to him.”

The door of the van swung open with a bang and you let out another cry of pain. You felt a comforting hand on your shoulder and you smiled slightly. Hughie really was a good person. You vaguely heard Butcher’s laugh over the ringing pain.

“Did that deliberately you prick.”

“Did what deliberately?”

“You fucking know what you-“

“That’s enough,” yelled MM, “Sorry,” he added quickly when he noticed you wince, “Did you find out what it is?”

“Yep. I’ll explain later,” Butcher slammed the back of the can again and moved around to the front, “Right now we’ve got to get out of here.”

“Why are you doing this?” you asked grasping your head

“Oh y/n,” Butcher said looking back at you, “Your pain brings me a special kind of joy.”

You didn’t answer back but frowned when you felt a packet land on you. You opened your eyes a crack and saw that they were painkillers. You looked up and Frenchie shrugged.

“For your head,” he explained, “Can’t have you being like that forever.”

“What Frenchie is actually saying,“ said Butcher, “Is to stop being a useless cunt.”

“Thanks Frenchie,” you muttered, “Hey MM?”

“What?”

“When I murder Butcher will you help me hide the body?”

“Heard that!”

“Good!”