#i fully believe that man is on a mission to make his vision come true

[thats-a-mood-gabriella]

Idk how long it took for IMP + Octavia to get to the palace but whether it was seconds or minutes, Blitz spent it talking to Via about Stolas.

[david-talks-sw]

Debunking myths in the GFFA: Luke Skywalker isn't the One True Jedi™ and doesn't "reject the Jedi teachings."

The myth:

Luke's Jedi mentors - trained to be dispassionate and mission-driven - callously tell him to let his friends die in service of a greater cause.

"In The Empire Strikes Back, Luke becomes Yoda's Padawan, and there are echoes of Anakin's training and the dilemmas he faced. Like Anakin, Luke is told he is too old to begin the training. Like Anakin, he has a vision of his loved ones suffering in captivity, and receives cold advice from Yoda, who tells him to sacrifice Han and Leia if he honors what they fight for." - Jason Fry, “Family Tradition; Rejecting the Jedi Teachings” Star Wars Insider #130, 2012

The intended narrative:

The Jedi are actually right on all points. Luke isn't ready or fully trained and he's arrogantly letting his emotions rule him and rushing into danger. By ignoring them, Luke gets himself into a spot of trouble that actually jeopardizes the lives of the very friends he tried to help, as they now need to rescue him.

“It’s pivotal that Luke doesn’t have patience. He doesn’t want to finish his training. He’s being succumbed by his emotional feelings for his friends rather than the practical feelings of “I’ve got to get this job done before I can actually save them. I can’t save them, really.” But he sort of takes the easy route, the arrogant route, the emotional but least practical route, which is to say, “I’m just going to go off and do this without thinking too much.” And the result is that he fails and doesn’t do well for Han Solo or himself.”

“Luke is making a critical mistake in his life of going after- to try to save his friends when he’s not ready. There’s a lot being taught here about patience and about waiting for the right moment to do whatever you’re going to do.”

“Luke is in the process of going into an extremely dangerous situation out of his compassion— Without the proper training, without the proper thought, without the proper foresight to figure out how he’s gonna get out of it. His impulses are right, but his methodology is wrong.”

The myth:

The Jedi want Luke to repress his feelings and kill his father, to destroy the Sith, their religious enemies. As emotionally-detached Jedi, it is inconceivable that a Sith would come back from the Dark Side, and thus wrongly believe that the only solution is to kill Vader.

"It's easy to miss that Luke disagrees sharply with his Jedi teachers about what to do. Obi-Wan and Yoda have trained Luke and push him toward a second confrontation with Vader. He is, they believe, the Jedi weapon that will destroy both Vader and the Emperor. When Luke insists there is still good in Vader, Obi-Wan retorts that "he's more machine than man-twisted and evil." When Luke says he can't kill his own father, Obi-Wan despairs, "Then the Emperor has already won."  But Obi-Wan could not be more wrong. It is precisely because Luke can't kill his own father that he defeats the Sith." - Jason Fry, Star Wars Insider #130, 2012

The intended narrative:

The Jedi never tell Luke to "kill" his father. That's just a fact.

They tell him to "confront" and "face" him.

Their bottom line is that Vader and the Emperor need to be stopped.

If Luke can manage to do so without killing his father, that's great.

"In Jedi the film is really about the redemption of this fallen angel. Ben is the fitting good angel, and Vader is the bad angel who started off good. All these years Ben has been waiting for Luke to come of age so that he can become a Jedi and redeem his father. That's what Ben has been doing, but you don't know this in the first film." - Star Wars: The Annotated Screenplays, 1998

(credit to @writerbuddha for finding the above quote)

The problem is: Darth Vader has a track record of murdering loved ones who refuse to kill him. Be it his wife...

... his father/brother...

... and if you're going by Canon, his little sister.

As such, there's a very strong chance that Vader might do the same to his son as well.

“A Jedi can’t kill for the sake of killing. The mission isn’t for Luke to go out and kill his father and get rid of him. The issue is, if he confronts his father again, he may, in defending himself, have to kill him, because his father will try to kill him.” - 1981 story conference, from The Making of Return of the Jedi

Now, as the last Jedi left, the fate of the galaxy rests entirely on Luke's shoulders.

If he dies, then the galaxy and its billions of inhabitants are doomed to live in a tyrannical dictatorship forever.

“He knows a confrontation is brewing between Luke and his father. Ben hopes Luke will either save his father or kill him, because whatever extra powers Luke's got in his lineage, he is the one person that can probably fight his father and win.” - The Star Wars Archives: 1977-1983, 2018

There's a time for talking things through... and a time to do your duty. Above all else, a Jedi's duty is to end conflict.

Obi-Wan was once tasked with this same duty.

And while he managed to weaken Vader considerably (thus avoiding the catastrophe of a full-powered Vader being unleashed onto the galaxy)... because of his attachment, he failed to kill Vader.

Twice, if you include the Kenobi show.

(A show which, per Pablo Hidalgo, is one of George Lucas' favorite recent Star Wars projects, a tidbit that doesn't surprise me one bit considering how much the series perfectly aligns with what Lucas said about Star Wars (see here, here and here))

Point being: because Ben failed his duty, the galaxy suffered for it.

Luke is now in danger of doing the same.

If he's unable to end the conflict in a peaceful way, then Luke needs to be ready to do so in a more permanent manner. Because while Luke has qualms about killing his father, there's a very big chance that the feeling won't be mutual.

So Luke isn't rejecting his teachers' orders to kill Vader. He's saying he's unable to confront Vader altogether, because he'll be half-assing the task. In the (very likely) worst case scenario where reasoning with Vader fails, Luke is concerned he won't be able to follow-through and do what he must.

Further, there's also a worse outcome to Luke dying: Luke joining the Dark Side and becoming yet another asset of the Emperor, more dangerous than Vader himself.

It's thus essential that Luke steel himself and mask his emotions, because the Emperor is a master manipulator who'll likely attempt to corrupt Luke via the strong emotions he has for his friends.

Obi-Wan is not telling Luke to repress his emotions. On the contrary, he acknowledges that these feelings do Luke credit. But the fact remains that when your opponent can jiu-jitsu those feelings against you and your friends, you need to keep a poker face.

And judging by how close the Sith Lords come to seducing Luke to the Dark Side...

... that advice is completely on point.

The myth:

"It isn't Jedi teachings that save the galaxy, but bonds the Jedi tried to forbid - such as the love of a father for his son, and a son for his father. Emotional attachments, in other words." - Jason Fry, Star Wars Insider #130, 2012

The intended narrative:

In Return of the Jedi, Luke isn't doing anything different than what other Jedi have done.

He does his best to avoid lethal force unless he deems that it is necessary (see his fight against Jabba's hostile forces).

He sacrifices himself for the greater good and let himself be captured, in order to allow the mission to be carried out.

He tries to reason with his enemy, hoping to avoid conflict.

He spares his enemy, showing mercy.

That's all standard Jedi stuff. We've seen other Jedi do all those things, both in the films and The Clone Wars.

If that isn't enough, just look at how Lucas describes what Jedi normally do (left), versus what Luke does in Return of the Jedi (right):

See what I mean? There’s pretty much no difference.

In Lucas' narrative, Luke isn’t “better than” or “rejecting the teachings” of the Jedi who came before him. He’s following the Jedi path. And he's really good at doing so.

Because this idea that Luke "rejects the teachings" makes no sense! They're Lucas' teachings. He agrees with the Jedi, they're the mouthpieces he uses to deliver the audience his own values.

Lucas having his main character do something he'd ideologically disagree with is something that doesn't make sense.

And part of this confusion comes from a misunderstanding of the word "attachment", in Star Wars.

It doesn't mean "emotional attachments" or "feelings" or "affection." It comes from the Buddhist principle of non-attachment.

It's not about depriving yourself of relationships or affection, it's about accepting that everything comes and goes and letting go of those very things you hold on to, when the time comes.

Lucas makes a distinction in his discourse between attachment and compassion.

"The whole idea of the movie, ultimately is that you have the Light Side and the Dark Side. The Light Side is compassion, which means you care about other people. The Dark Side is you care only about yourself. And you are obsessed with yourself. Getting your pleasure and getting all your stuff. The other one, you give it to everybody. You give goodness and health to everybody else.  So the issue of love... there’s a line between loving somebody compassionately and caring about them and helping them. But the other line is not to be greedy or... once you are greedy then you get fearful. You don’t want to lose what it is you have that you are getting. So you have to learn to give up everything. And ultimately for a Jedi Knight, it’s very easy to give up." - Celebration V, Main Event, 2010

In-universe, this is something Anakin knew the theory of, but never really applied all that much.

Luke on the other hand, was able to learn the lesson and apply it.

Speaking in Lucas lingo, it's not Luke's attachment that makes him spare Vader. It's his compassion. And in turn, that compassion inspires Vader to do the same.

"It really has to do with learning. Children teach you compassion. They teach you to love unconditionally. Anakin can’t be redeemed for all the pain and suffering he’s caused. He doesn’t right the wrongs, but he stops the horror. The end of the Saga is simply Anakin saying, ‘I care about this person, regardless of what it means to me. I will throw away everything that I have, everything that I have grown to love - primarily the Emperor - and throw away my life, to save this person. And I’m doing this because he has faith in me, loves me despite all the horrible things I’ve done. I broke his mother’s heart, but he still cares about me, and I can’t let that die.’" - The Making of Revenge of The Sith; page 221

Or, to put things more simply:

Attachment (selfish love), is what makes Anakin do this:

Compassion (selfless love), is what makes Luke do this:

Now, could Lucas have made his narrative more explicit, to avoid confusion? Maybe.

But I think it's also fair to point the finger at the biggest cause of these muddied waters:

Simply put, the Expanded Universe (the Star Wars books, novels and games that spun out of the films) established new lore elements that didn't necessarily align with Lucas' vision of things. Namely:

Jedi can get married, and Luke marries Mara Jade.

Jedi can begin their training as adults, and Luke takes on many apprentices that are already adults.

When considering George's minimal involvement in the development of EU stories, it's easy to see why these plot points were allowed to come through.

But when he made the Prequels, his headcanons came to light and the above plot points needed to be retconned.

George Lucas' narrative:

"Nope. You can't be a Jedi and be married."

This isn't actually coming out of left field.

When Timothy Zahn asked for Luke and Mara to be married or engaged, back in 1993, Lucasfilm initially vetoed the idea.

And over the years, Lucas and other Lucasfilm employees have made it it clear that "Luke getting married" did not align with his vision (so much so that it's a plot point in Attack of the Clones).

So the question becomes: why can't Jedi get married?

It's about commitment.

Simply put: you can't have two marriages. Eventually, your commitment to one of them will falter and you'll ruin them both. A Jedi is already married to the cause and to the Order.

If they want to get married, they have to leave the Jedi.

"One of the things [the Jedi] give up is marriage. They can still love people. But they can’t possess them. They can’t own them. They can’t demand that they do things. They have to be able to accept the fact, one, their mortality, that they are going to die. And not worry about it. That the loved ones they have, everything they love is going to die and they can’t do anything about it. I mean they can protect them as you would ordinarily protect, you know, ‘Get out of the way of that car.’ Somebody charges you with a gun, you knock the gun out, but there is an inevitability to life which is death and you have to accept that." - Celebration V, Main Event, 2010

And this is another example, really, of how Lucas' own values and past experiences shape the Jedi's teachings.

Marcia Lucas divorced George because he was constantly working on Star Wars, even when he wasn't directing it, which she said led to an emotional blockage in their marriage...

... and this leads us to the reason why George didn't double-down on the success of the Original Trilogy: he decided to take time off to raise his three kids as a single Dad.

He learned his lesson, reasoned that he wouldn't be able to be both a good, present father and a successful blockbuster film director.

When you're dealing with time-consuming commitments of this scale, you need to make a choice, or you'll end up (half-assing and thus ruining) both of them.

"Nope. Jedi get taken in as babies for a reason."

Once again, this has to do with Lucas' definition of "attachment."

"Jedi Knights get taken from their families very young. They do not grow attachments, because attachment is a path to the Dark Side. You can love people, but you can't want to possess them. They're not yours. Accept that they have a fate. Even those you love most are going to die. You can't do anything about that. Protect them with your lightsaber, but if they die they were going to die. There's nothing you can do. All you can do is accept that fact. In mythology, if you go to Hades to get them back, you're not doing it for them, you're doing it for yourself. You're doing it because you don't want to give them up. You're afraid to be without them. The key to the Dark Side is fear. You must be clean of fear, and fear of loss is the greatest fear. If you're set up for fear of loss, you will do anything to keep that loss from happening, and you're going to end up in the Dark Side. That's the basic premise of Star Wars and the Jedi, and how it works. That's why they're taken at a young age to be trained. They cannot get themselves killed trying to save their best buddy when it's a hopeless exercise." - The Star Wars Archives: 1977-1983, 2018

Jedi need to maintain objectivity and neutrality, in their day-to-day lives of mediating peace between planets.

And learning to "let go of your attachments when the time comes" is part of that training. But it is something that takes discipline and time, and thus the child needs to be young enough to develop this skill. Otherwise, they end up like Anakin, who always struggled to properly learn it and eventually was doomed by his greed.

This being part of Lucas narrative is also evidenced that in his earlier plans for the Sequel trilogy, he'd have Luke train children, not adults like he does in the EU.

"Luke is trying to restart the Jedi. He puts the word out, so out of 100,000 Jedi, maybe 50 or 100 are left. The Jedi have to grow again from scratch, so Luke has to find two- and three-year-olds, and train them. It’ll be 20 years before you have a new generation of Jedi." The Star Wars Archives: 1999-2005, 2020

The EU's retcons of Lucas' narrative:

Now, obviously, the addition of all these rules and other elements such as midi-chlorians... it does something to the older audience. They grew up on the Original Trilogy, dreaming they could be a Jedi too if they just believed enough. Now that bubble is burst.

"Wait, if I'm a Jedi I can't get married?! And I need to be taken in as a toddler, with a certain kind of blood score?! That's bullshit!"

More importantly... it goes against about a decade's worth of established EU lore (which Lucas never factored into his storytelling)!

So what does Lucasfilm Licensing do? They go with it.

They take these "weird" rules the older audience and authors don't like, and retcon a new narrative around them to ensure both the books and the new films all stay canon within the EU own continuity.

George Lucas revealed new information about his universe in Episode II that ran counter to earlier stories of the Expanded Universe. Among the surprises: the Jedi Order is monastic, with love and marriage forbidden to its members. This would necessitate reforms to the Jedi Code over time to separate the ancient era when Nomi Sunrider was married to a Jedi, seen in the Tales of the Jedi (1993–94) comics, as well as the post-Empire era when Luke Skywalker married Mara Jade in the comic series Union (1999–2000). LucasBooks also needed to create plausible exceptions for Ki-Adi-Mundi, a Jedi Master who had multiple wives in the Prelude to Rebellion comics (1999). - Pablo Hidalgo, The Essential Reader’s Companion, 2012

When it comes to Luke specifically, the narrative becomes:

"Uh... y-yes. The old Jedi Order forbid marriage, only took in toddlers and had a blood pre-requisite... which was weird, wrong, too detached, too systemic, and part of why their Order failed! But, uh, Luke's New Jedi Order allows marriage, unlike his dogmatic predecessors, because anyone can be a Jedi guys!" Hahaha! (fuck's sake George)

But as already explained above: those new rules aren't meant to be perceived negatively. It would make no sense if they were, they're based on Lucas' own values.

You know what it does do, though?

It cements the narrative that Luke is the One True Jedi™, who rejected the dogmatic teachings to forge a new path forward.

That's not the intended narrative of the Original Trilogy, nor the six-film saga as a whole.

If you've made it this far in the post (congratulations) and are interested to read another all-encompassing post about that, you can check out the link below :)

[highwaytothedangerzone502]

Foxtrot Alpha Alpha - Chapter 6

Pairing: Hangman x Female OC

Word Count: 2901

Warnings: Car Crash, mild PTSD

Summary: Hangman learned his lesson a long time ago to never show his true feelings when someone's words or actions hurt him. To do so showed weakness that could be exploited, and Seresin men couldn't show weakness. Of course, there was an exception to every rule, and Jake's always came in the form of women, three in particular: his mom, Juliette Kazansky, and the girl whose name he could no longer bring himself to speak. She was the girl that got away; she was his biggest 'what if' and his biggest regret; she would forever be the ghost that haunted his dreams. Jake believed that's where she'd stay, for he would surely never see her again after what he did.

Or so he thought.

Notes: This is the sequel to India Lima Yankee; I'm using the same callsign for the Female OC as in Ghost Story because I just really like it, but they are different characters; chapters in italics are flashbacks.

Chapter Songs: Willow Bless the Broken Road

****

Annalise groggily opened her eyes, her spinning vision coming to her first. She blinked, hoping it'd stabilize her sight, but it had little to no effect. The angry dinging of her car alarm came into focus next. That couldn't be good. She noticed the deployed airbag and the near-shattered glass of her windshield and driver's side window, and that's when it all came rushing back to her. 

The tow truck. 

The red light he ran. 

Annalise finally lifted her head fully and scanned her surroundings, slightly confused as to why she faced the opposite direction she'd been going in. How hard had he hit her?

Air. Let's get some air, and then I'll call 911 and Mom. Annalise thought, staying unnaturally calm for the severity of the accident. She fumbled for the door handle and pushed the door open. A warm breeze greeted her and slightly cleared her senses. Phone. Phone. Where's my phone? 

Annalise saw it on the floorboard and reached for it. As she flipped the Razer open, she noticed a man talking on the phone nearby. She couldn't make out much of what he was saying, but something told her it was emergency services. Annalise dialed her home number, waiting for her mom or sister to pick up. Charlie answered on the second ring. "Hey, honey, are you on your way home?"

Don't cause her any panic. Play it cool. Annalise took a deep breath and said casually, "Hey, Mom, I'm going to be late."

"What happened?" Charlie asked immediately.

Shit. Mission failed. "Uh, I got hit by a tow truck outside the school."

"Are you okay?! We're on our way right now. Is an ambulance there yet?"

"I think so. My head hurts, but I don't think anything's broken, and no. No ambulance."

"Okay, we're in the car now. If we don't get to you before they take you to the hospital, call us so we can meet you there."

"Okay, see you soon. Love you."

"Love you, too, sweetie." Charlie hung up, and Annalise decided to assess the damage to her poor car, which more than likely was totaled. She stood up and immediately regretted it. Her vision tunneled, and Annalise gripped the door, praying she wouldn't pass out.

A pair of strong hands grasped her arms, followed by a familiar voice saying, "Easy, Annalise. Let's sit you down."

The person lowered her to the ground but kept a hold of her. She winced, swallowing down the nausea. Once her vision returned to normal, Annalise looked at the kind samaritan helping her and decided right then and there that God had to be playing some terrible trick on her. "Oh, God, it's you."

Jake tilted his head, smiling in confusion. "Uh, hello to you too."

Guess he hasn't heard the rumors. Annalise remarked inwardly, or so she thought, because Jake asked, "What rumors?"

"I-I said that aloud?" Annalise replied, grimacing, trying to drop her head to hide her flushing cheeks. Jake stopped her, keeping his hands firmly on her cheeks.

"Try not to move your head. I don't think your neck is broken, but I'd rather not find out the hard way. Where does it hurt?"

"Honestly? Just my head," Annalise admitted, pointing to the throbbing spot a few inches above her ear. Jake gingerly placed a hand on the site.

"Yeah, you've got quite the lump there. I'm not a doctor, but I'm pretty sure you'll have a concussion. Does it hurt anywhere else?"

"No, weirdly enough. Why are you here? Shouldn't you be at practice?"

"Practice ended a few minutes ago. I was heading to my car when I saw the crash and you trying to get out. Kind of surprised you're talking so coherently."

"Yeah, well, panicking about the situation isn't going to help anything. It'll probably hit me later." Out of the corner of her eye, a policeman, followed by EMTs and firefighters, approached her and Jake. The EMTs replaced her friend, and the policeman questioned her about what had happened. Annalise recalled the story very matter-of-factly, told them where she hurt, and insisted her neck was fine. With that said, the first responders helped her stand and carefully walked with her to the gurney. Annalise tried to see where Jake stood, but she was whisked away to the hospital before she could find him. 

Charlie and Jackie weren't far behind in arriving at the hospital after Annalise, waiting impatiently in her room when she returned from the CT scan. Her mom, barely hiding her panic over the situation, asked shakily, "Are you okay? Where else besides your head hurts?"

"Nothing so far. I think my body might still be in shock."

"We passed the wreck from the freeway," Jackie said, a deathly shade of white. "You're lucky to be alive."

"Miss Blackwood?" The doctor stepped in, smiling kindly at me. "CT scan looks good. No bleeding of the brain from what we could see. You do have a two-inch hematoma on the left side of your head as a result of the impact, and based on your current symptoms, you have a moderate concussion. You'll want to limit strenuous activity, avoid anything that requires too much concentration, and that includes watching TV or being on the computer."

"I'm supposed to start school on Monday. Am I able to go?" Annalise asked, dreading that she may have to start late because of the wreck. She had enough attention on herself from the rumor her sister had started. Annalise didn't want anyone to think she skipped school to avoid people. 

"That will be a judgment call for you. I'll write you a doctor's note in the event you need it for any reason, although I do recommend starting out with half days for now. After today, you'll want to follow up with your regular doctor for further treatment. Do you have any questions for me?"

Annalise shook her head. "No, sir."

That said, the doctor bid them good evening and left the room. Charlie shouldered her purse and instructed, "Jackie, stay here while Annalise changes to make sure she's okay. I'm going to go take care of the payment and insurance."

Before either girl could argue, Charlie strode out of the room. An awkward silence fell over the sisters. Jackie turned around to give Annalise some privacy. While she changed into her shorts and tee, the younger Blackwood asked shortly, "Did you get my text?"

"About the rumor? Yeah."

"And?"

"I'll fix it."

"You better. What the hell? You could've done so many other things, but you chose to spread a false rumor about me and Jake Seresin? I can't be invisible when everyone knows my name at school!"

"Why do you want to be invisible so badly?"

"Because we both know Mom and Dad are going to pick up and pack up once we finish the year out and while you're off at college, I'll be starting at another new school. I don't see the point in making friends and getting close to people when I'm going to move away and will probably never see them again."

"Jake's not your friend?" Jackie inquired, turning to face her sister when Annalise placed her folded hospital gown on the table. 

"It was just for the summer. Besides, I'm sure after your little stunt with that rumor, once he catches wind of it, he'll want nothing to do with me. Come on, let's go find Mom."

Annalise turned to walk out, only to be hit by a wave of vertigo. Jackie grabbed her sister before she fell over. Clutching her head, Annalise mumbled a "thank you" and allowed Jackie to escort her out of the hospital room and to their mom. 

Annalise took the backseat of their car, sliding down to hide from the sun and to avoid noticing intersections. She would wince every time they crossed one, expecting a car to come out of nowhere and hit them. Annalise wouldn't rise out of her seat until they arrived home. There, she went into autopilot. Annalise hugged her mom and sister, went upstairs, took a shower, dried her hair, put on her Navy sweatshirt and black leggings, and called her dad to tell him she was okay. Then, Annalise headed downstairs and sat at the dinner table, eating as much as she could stomach before migrating back to her room and into her bed. Annalise attempted laying on her left side, her typical sleeping position, only to jerk in pain when the swollen lump on the side of her head pressed into the pillow. Biting back tears of frustration, she flipped onto her right side, closing her eyes and trying to fall asleep, but it wouldn't come. The throbbing of her head, the flashbacks of the wreck, and the aches suddenly overcoming the rest of her body finally broke the wall holding the rest of her composure. Annalise silently wept into the pillow, overwhelmed by the day's events.

The tears didn't last long, just enough to be a catharsis for the bottled-up emotions. It took Annalise no time to recognize that sleep wouldn't come easily, so she sat up and leaned against her headboard. The buzzing of her phone with an incoming text caught Annalise's attention. She reached over and grabbed it to see who it was from, genuinely surprised to see the name on the screen: Jake.

On a whim, or perhaps a concussion-induced one, Annalise hit "dial" before she could stop herself. He picked halfway through the first ring. "Hey! Are you okay?"

"Feel like I just got hit by a tow truck," she joked, using humor to cope with the mortification that she'd actually called him and the fact he'd most likely confront her about the rumors.

"I'd say that's about right," he said with equal humor. "It's good to hear you up and talking. That-that was a hell of a wreck. The fact you got out of the car yourself and were talking-"

"It's nothing. Panicking wouldn't have helped."

"You're something else, you know that? Are you going to be up to school on Monday?"

"Doctor said it's up to me if I feel up to it. Guess I'll see Monday morning."

"If you do, if you trust me, I can give you a ride," Jake offered, sounding almost sheepish. 

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean, after all, isn't that what boyfriends are supposed to do?"

Annalise slid under covers as if hiding under them would make the embarrassment disappear. "Annalise?"

"I swear it wasn't me that said anything."

Strangely, Jake chuckled. "I know. Jackie reached out to me earlier and told me everything. I couldn't resist teasing you about it since you seem so against dating me."

"I'm not against it; it's just not true."

"What exactly did you do to earn that kind of wrath from Jackie?"

Figuring she had nothing else to lose, Annalise told him the entire conversation between her and Jackie that sparked the war between them. Her cheeks flamed when she mentioned the part about Jackie calling him her boyfriend, but Jake started cracking up at what Annalise called Orry. 

"Your humor being intact is a good sign," Jake said. "I think you're going to make a full recovery. Oh, uh, before I forget, I talked the policeman into letting me get the rest of your belongings from your car before they towed it. I can swing by and drop them off. It's only eight o'clock right now, but I'm sure you're not up to it, so I can come by tomorrow."

"Oh, thank you! Uh, you don't have to- I can have my mom pick it up. I don't want to subject you to my sister if she answers the door."

"See, I'd consider that a plus. Would love to meet the person that caused this chaos. On a different note, I'm surprised you're not sleeping."

"Can't. This headache is awful. I should probably find some ibuprofen to see if that helps." Another idea, definitely concussion-induced courage, prompted Annalise to add, "If you really want to, you can come by now. I don't care. I can assure you I'm not going to sleep any time soon."

"Give me five. I'll be right over."

Before Annalise could protest or comprehend what had happened, Jake hung up the phone. She stared at the screen, confused beyond all reason that he'd so readily agreed to her stupid suggestion. What guy did that?

I'm imagining things. That's all. The stupid concussion made me mishear him. He'll probably be here tomorrow. I need to get some ibuprofen. Annalise thought, shaking her head slightly. Rolling out of bed, she made her way downstairs to get the medicine. She could hear her mom on the phone with the insurance company about the wreck. Apparently, it paid to be friends with your agent. Jackie sat on the couch, the back of her head barely visible. Annalise wanted to join, attempting to watch for a few moments from where she stood, but the brightness of the screen hurt her head even from that distance. Annalise decided it'd be best to return to her bedroom, but as her foot hit the first step, the doorbell rang. She froze, unwilling to believe it could be him. Slowly, she turned around in time to see her mom answering it. 

"Hello," Charlie greeted, confusion clear in her voice. "May I help you?"

"Hello, ma'am. I'm Jake Seresin," he said with a charming smile. He offered his hand, and Charlie shook it. "I saw the wreck and convinced the police to let me get Annalise's belongings for her before they towed the car."

"He did more than that," Annalise said, coming to stand beside her mom. "He caught me before I collapsed to the ground and kept my head still while we waited for EMTs in case my neck was broken."

Unless Annalise was mistaken, Jake flushed at her words. "It's, uh, it's what anyone would've done. I think I just beat the others to it."

"Thank you for helping her," Charlie said sincerely, taking the box from him, "and for returning her stuff. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. Annalise has told us so much about you."

"It's a pleasure to meet you too, ma'am. I'm sorry to have bothered you so late. I figured I wouldn't get a chance tomorrow with practice and all, so when Annalise said I could come over, I jumped at the opportunity."

"Not a bother at all. You're always welcome here. Annalise, I'm going to bring your stuff upstairs. I'll be back." Charlie turned around, but not before she discreetly and playfully winked at her daughter.

The two friends fell into an awkward silence. Annalise shifted on her feet, unsure of what to say, so she went with the most logical thing. "Thank you for helping me earlier and for bringing my stuff. You didn't- you didn't have to rush over here."

"Can I be honest with you?" Jake rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't have practice until tomorrow evening. My morning is clear. I just didn't want to have to wait until then to see you. It's- it's really good to see you up and talking."

Annalise cringed at the implication. "That bad, huh?"

"From what I saw, the tow truck hit your driver's side wheel and sent you spinning two lanes over into a semi-truck. How you were awake, let alone trying to stand up and move... it's, uh, it's kind of a miracle you're alive."

An image of a tow truck coming for her flashed in her mind, but she had no memory of it actually hitting her. Annalise hadn't even glanced at the wreck before the EMTs whisked her off to the hospital. "I didn't- I figured it'd been- that explains why everything hurts..."

"Besides the concussion, anything else broken?"

"Not that we found. At least my hard head is good for something, although we'll find out if I need PT when I go to the doctor tomorrow. Wouldn't surprise me if I did. My left shoulder and hip hurt like crazy. My body probably slammed against the side of the car when I got hit, so... strangely, no bruising, although I've never been one to bruise. Kind of hoping it stays that way." Annalise pulled her sleeves over her fists, unsure of what to say next. 

"I hope so too. I'm g-" Jake cleared his throat- "I should get going. Told my parents I wouldn't be long."

"Yeah, yeah, of course. Thank you again for bringing my stuff. See you soon?"

"Yeah. Text me when you're up to seeing me?"

"Expect one in the morning," Annalise said with a smile. She hesitated, then stepped forward to give him a hug. Jake, unlike her, seemed to hold no reserves and wrapped his arms around her, and although the grasp itself was gentle, she could feel his fingers curling into her.

"I'm really glad you're okay," he whispered.

"Me too. Thank you for being there," she replied, holding him tighter. Annalise had never understood her romance novels when the girls said they felt safe in the arms of the men they loved, but she understood now. Something between them shifted in that moment, and somehow, Annalise knew that no matter what, Jake Seresin would have her back, would be there for no matter what. Forever and always.

****

Tags: @lgg5989 @shanimallina87 @polikszena @summ3rlotus @icemansgirl1999 @supernaturaldawning @thedarkinmansfield @lyannaforpresident @lapilark @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth @simpofthecentury @shadeops21 @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @double-j @bradshawsandbridgetons @catsandgeekyandnerd @peachiicherries @multifandomcnova @fandomsstolemylife00 @bookloverhorses @mak-32 @midnightmagpiemama @luckyladycreator2

Chapters: Chp 1 Chp 2 Chp 3 Chp 4 Chp 5 Chp 6

If you're on the tag list, it's because I copied from the India Lima Yankee tag list. If you don't wish to be tagged for this story, just let me know! If you're not on the tag list and want to be, comment below :)

[ynscrazylife]

Hi, I love your writing so I was wondering if you could write a Stucky x reader where they've been dating for a few months and no one except the avengers know. They go out or Tony throws a party( you pick) and while you're dancing and enjoying with nat and Wanda, Stucky are at the bar( obviously watching you on the side) where a random guy comes up to them and basically talks about reader in disgusting creepy ways. Before the boys can bash his head, the reader comes in and defends herself and the boys now just sit back and watch cz their girl is breathing fire. End with fluff?

 Thank you so much and sure!

That’s Our Girl

Summary: Bucky and Steve are ready to swoop into overprotective mode when they see a man harassing their girlfriend, but she’s got it covered.

Permanent Taglist: @natasharomanoffismywife @stephanieromanoff @paulawand @blackbat2020 @sybil-moon-is-a-mess

MCU Taglist: @procrastinatingsapphictrash @okkulta @sarahp-stan @mxxnmocha @summerlovingbaby @ineffablebean @prettysbliss

TRIGGER WARNING: A guy talking rudely about the reader, him calling reader a b*tch and a wh*re, and reader cursing 

Request to be on a Taglist (or multiple) HERE!

MCU Masterlist | Main Masterlist

"You enjoying yourself?" Bucky asked teasingly as he walked over to his boyfriend who had a large grin on his face as he looked around the room. The Avengers were attending a party which was made to celebrate the superheroes who kept the world safe - Avengers included along with other superheroes like S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. This was proving to be a great time for everyone, the only downside being that Bucky and Steve hadn't seen their girlfriend Y/N much, since she was spending most of night catching up with her old S.H.I.EL.D. coworkers along with Clint and Natasha.

Steve chuckled and then nodded. It had been so long since he had gone to a proper party and it was quite . . . freeing. He grabbed Bucky’s hand, intertwining their fingers, and glanced around the room, someone on his mind. 

“She’s with Nat and Maria,” Bucky filled in, as if reading his mind. Steve’s eyes fell to the right on the three women, focussing on his girlfriend, his grin getting even wider - if possible.

“As much as I love her catching up with everyone, I miss her,” Steve murmured, not taking his eyes off Y/N. 

Bucky chuckled and squeezed his hand. “How can you miss her? She’s right there,” he pointed out again in a teasing way, but there was an undertone in his voice hinting that he was feeling the same way.

Steve shook his head in amusement, opening his mouth to respond, when suddenly a man filled their vision. 

“You’re Captain America and Winter Soldier, right?” He asked. The man was tall and was wearing a jacket - he didn't look happy. 

The boyfriends shared a look and then nodded. 

“I’m Tom, ex-S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent . . . I just had a question for you,” the man said, and when Bucky and Steve nodded, he continued with asking it, directing it at Steve. “Why is Y/L/N on the team?”

Both men blinked, taken aback as they weren’t expected this. 

“What do you mean?” Steve asked after he composed himself, furrowing his eyebrows as some confusion lingered. 

Tom glanced between the two, slightly chuckling. “I worked with Y/N on a couple missions - makes sense she wouldn’t tell you about me or show you her true colors. I was the only one who saw how much of a bitch she was,” he scoffed. 

Steve’s confusion dropped into anger, as did Bucky’s, and they frowned. Steve squeezed Bucky’s hand as the Winter Soldier said in a deep and almost threatening tone, “Excuse me?” 

Tom scoffed again, obviously not catching the hint. “She’s a horrible agent! I’m sure the only reason she was picked is because she has a pretty face and is good for distractions but - other than that? I mean, who’d she have to kiss to get on the team? Falcon? Thor?” At the Avengers’ unchanging faces, Tom gasped and leaned back, adding a surprised, “Was it one of you??”

“She did not have to kiss anyone on the team! She was recommended by Romanoff and has fantastic fighting skills! Not to mention-” Steve immediately jumped in to defend before Tom interrupted him. 

“I knew it was you! God - can’t believe she’d play with Captain America’s heart to get a spot on the Avengers team when I deserved it . . . that whore,” he said.

Bucky nearly jumped out of his seat at the man and Steve was almost too angry to form words - but he didn’t have to. It seemed that Y/N had heard the conversation and decided to interfere, because she walked right up to them. 

“Shut the fuck up, Tom,” Y/N hissed, glaring at him. He turned to her and smirked but before he could say anything, she continued. “We both know I’m not just a pretty face - you’re just petty because when you asked me out I said no and then beat you in training!” 

With their girlfriend’s presence and seeing Tom with a flabbergasted look on his face, Bucky and Steve calmed down and finally relaxed enough to smile proudly as they watched Y/N take him down. 

“The way you talk about me, making assumptions and with barely knowing me, on-top of sprouting goddamn lies is disgusting! You never talk about a woman like that, you hear me?” She said, a fierceness in her eyes. 

When Tom didn't respond, only looked at her meekly, she shoved him back in his seat to make her point. He suddenly spluttered a “Yes!” 

“Good. Now get out of here,” Y/N ordered, and Tom immediately got to his feat and stumbled out the door. 

Y/N’s faced then transformed from pure rage to satisfaction and happiness and took his seat, facing her boyfriends, who were staring at her in awe, and she smiled like nothing had happened, resting her chin in her palm and her elbow on the bar counter. 

“Wow,” Bucky breathed out, a smug grin tugging at his lips while Steve fully smiled and took her hand in his free one, while Bucky did the same with holding her right hand. 

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Steve said. 

“Thank you,” Y/N simply said, letting out a breath after he lecture. 

Bucky then glanced around the room at all the guests who were mingling and talking. “Wanna go back to the tower and cuddle?” He asked his partners. 

Y/N immediately stood up and nodded, excited. “Always,” she said.

[messrmoonyy]

Can you do Remus proposing to tonks? I would love lots of fluff today

Hello thank you for tha request my lovely. I’m a sucker for a cliche and I’m a sucker for a happy carefree Remus.

I also really believe that his proposal wasn’t planned. He doesn’t strike me as a man of theatrics and was almost spure of the moment because he was just so overwhelming in love with her. So I hope this comes across well. Soooo. Hope you enjoy :)

Pairing: Nymphadora tonks x Remus lupin

Warnings: none // pure fluff

On the week or so after a full moon Remus slept like the dead. More often than not he could sleep for entire days or fall asleep after lunch and not wake until the evening. Dora often let him. Even when he asked her to not let him sleep so long, claiming he clearly needed it. Sometimes she’d accidentally wake him, stumbling in from some mission with the order and slamming the door to his cottage a little harshly. She’d also gained the habit of tripping over the coat stand, something that fondly reminded him of the first time he’d met her. She’d dashed down the hall of Grimmauld place only to trip on the umbrella stand, sending herself sprawling onto the floor at his feet.

Though she wasn’t due out on any business today , order or auror related. So he had half expected to wake up and hear her bashing around at something. Or even taking a nap with him. But he woke up to silence.

“ Dora? “ he called, his voice a little hoarse from sleep still. Panic set in almost instantly when he didn't get an immediate answer from her and couldn't hear anything to suggest she was pottering around near by. The only sound he could hear was the rain outside pattering on the windows and the roof, and the sound of a leaks somewhere that they never did seem to be able to locate " darling? " he got out of bed and pulled on the closest pair of trousers and a sweater, tucking his wand into his back pocket and left the bedroom in search of her.

Not that there were many places for her to hide. His cottage was small. Tiny.

“ Dora? " the back door was open and he hurried over, a million explanations flooding his head only for his panic to vanish immediately. She was in the back garden, barefoot and dancing around in the rain. Her clothes were soaked through, her hair sticking to her face, and she had the biggest smile he’d seen in a while.

" Dora what In Godrics name are you doing? " he said with a smile as he stood in the doorway. watching as she stopped spinning around and tilted her head back, sticking her tongue out to catch the droplets.

" I'm dancing clearly " she turned to look at him then and held out her hand, wiggling her fingers in his direction "c'mere. Come on. Come dance with me Remus " he hesitated for a moment but his usual sensible thoughts seemed to have vanished and he was joining her in an instant. She squealed with joy and grabbed onto his hands, jumping and spinning around with him. He still didn’t know how she constantly had so much energy in her.

He spun her around with her hand above her head and then captured her in his arms, pulling her back against his chest as she laughed. He rested his chin on her shoulder and pressed a couple of soft kisses to the side of head as they swayed together.

" you ever had a dance in the rain before? " she asked.

" this would be the first "

" good. Everyone has to do it at least once in their life's. Check it off the old bucket list now huh? "

The sky wasn't very clear with the rain but in the darkening evening you could still just about make out the Sirius star. Sirius would probably be laughing at him now, because dancing around in the rain wasn't really a Remus thing to do. Remus wasn't so carefree. But maybe that was the old Remus. Dora brought out sides to him that he didn't even know he had. She turned in his arms then and leant up to his ear.

" catch me " she pulled back with that cheeky grin of hers and dashed off around the garden, mud splashing up the backs of her legs. He ran after her, laughing as he did, trying to ignore the ache in his joints " come on slow poke! " he had visions of her clumsy feet slipping in the wet mud and it spurred him on faster and he grabbed her around the waist, picking her up into the air as she squealed a laugh.

" got you " he whispered with a smile against her ear, holding her close against his chest again.

" congratulations, here's your prize " she turned her head and brought her hand round to his face and kissed him. She twisted around in his arms, her hands snaking around his neck. The rain made him reminisce on their first ever kiss, cramped in a dark Islington alleyway after barely escaping Greyback, rain pouring down on them in buckets. He could still see it so clearly in his mind, how her face had looked with the rain trickling over cheeks, her little nose turning pink from the cold, the burning urge he'd had to kiss her finally being satiated.

Even to this day he wasn't quite certain if he had gone in for the kiss first or she had, but either way he'd never forget it " I love you " she said softly as she pulled away, rubbing her hand through his soaked hair and blinking rain from her eyes " just in case you forgot " he smiled and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

" how could I forget, you tell me everyday... I love you too " he rested his forehead to hers and closed his eyes for a moment fingers brushing gently against her cheek. She kissed him again before pulling back, grabbing his arms and swaying with him in the still pouring rain. He took a look around him towards the dim little cottage, who's only light was coming from the fire, as she spun around under his arm. He thought of how much his home had changed since she had moved in, how she was everywhere in it.

The pictures on the wall, the boots by the door, her auror robes hung on the coat stand, the weird sisters poster that was hanging a bit wonky by the front door, her auror certificate that she had hung alongside his DADA qualifications. And it was in that exact moment that he decided what he was about to do. Because they were in a war. And he loved her. He loved like he had never loved a single other person in his entire life. And he knew that they could die tomorrow. Or they could die in years to come if they won. But either way, he wanted to die with her. As her husband. With her as his wife. He knew that he shouldn't. That she was already to be subjected to a life of outcast, even if they did win the war most likely, just by being with him as she was now. And marriage would most definitely solidify that fact.

But he was feeling selfish. He wanted to be selfish. He wanted her. And only her. He wanted her as his. And only his. He knew he should have prepared for it. Or maybe have at least thought it over a little longer, more time to fully determine how he would do it. What he would say. But they didn't have time. Time was such a luxury these days. And the amount of time he had been able to spend with her lately, it was starting to feel too good to be true. So he had to seize the moment.

" marry me " he said quite simply, the words slipping past his lips before he could stop them. She stopped her moving and almost froze on the spot. She turned around, rain dripping off of her face, clinging to her eyelashes. She had no particular expression, but her hair gave her joy away. It had been a deep shade of pink all day, but now it was growing brighter by the second. He held her face in his hands, looking how her eyes seemed to be sparkling. She was so beautiful. She was so so beautiful

" marry me Dora "

" what " she squeaked. He knew she'd heard. He'd said it twice. But in true Nymphadora fashion she just wanted to make him say it again " Marry me " he repeated, a smile taking over his face " I'm asking you. To marry me Nymphadora Tonks. I can't offer you much. Merlin I don't even have a ring at the present moment. And I know that a wedding isn't best placed right now, But I love you. And I vowed to you I would never leave you again, that I would love you until my dying breath and beyond. Let me prove it.... Nymphadora. marry me " he could practically feel the excitement buzzing out of her but she raised an eyebrow and slung her arms around his neck, trying her best to remain casual.

" if you promise to stop with the Nymphadora then you've got yourself a yes Mr. Lupin " he couldn't help but laugh at her and her lips lifted up into that grin that he loved so much.

" so...is that a yes "

" of course It is you silly git " and she stood up on her tiptoes and pulled him in for a kiss so passionate that he was certain that it must be illegal in some parts of the world. The rain was starting to chill him a bit but he couldn't find it in him to care. Because he was getting married. He was marrying her. His Dora.

His wonderful, beautiful, caring Dora.

" would I be Mrs. Lupin then? " she asked a little breathlessly as she pulled away from the kiss.

" I think... I think it'd be best if you waited until after the war for that. Just in case "

" and if we don't outlive this war? I won't die a Tonks if I'm married to you.... what about Tonks-Lupin huh? "

" even that is dangerous " he said softly, knowing that she wouldn’t settle for anything less than what she’d suggested. But he had to warn her.

" I don't care. I don't. You know I don't. I wanna be a Lupin. I wanna be like you, I wanna show I'm yours " he wasn't about to argue with that. He wanted her to be his too, in name and in law and everything in between that. Though he would have the conversation with her again, just not right now. He kissed her and she smiled against his lips. She knew she'd won. But he let her revel in her supposed win, because now he guessed he had an entire lifetime with her to go, an entire lifetime of others things she could lay claim to winning.

[clairecrive]

"Rock my world" - Sirius Black x reader

A/n: I was thinking of making this a series but idk, let me know what you think. The band in the picture, Maneskin, are my inspiration for the marauders' band music and aesthetic. Check them out cause they're really good. They're going to represent Italy at the next Eurovision contest.

Here's their Instagram and Spotify.

Tags: Muggle AU, so ofc no magic, no Hogwarts, Marauders in a rock band, no Peter but Regulus instead, jily

Warnings: none

Word count: 2.2K ish

Summary: When y/n finally agrees to check out this band that her best friend was always talking about, she's in for a pleasant surprise and one hell of a night.

It had all started in the cheesiest and most cliscé of ways, really. Y/n had made a bet which had made you go out of your comfort zone that one night and for your bravery, you were rewarded with the most amazing boyfriend ever. It sounds like a story out of a rom-com or a romance novel, doesn't it? Well, yeah, it felt like a main character moment but, unlike what we see in those stories, it wasn't always fun and games.

But let's start from the beginning, shall we?

Y/n's best friend Jules had been nagging her about this rock band who was apparently the new sensation of the year according to her, for the longest time. So, one Friday night, when Jules had informed her that that very band was playing in a bar not very far from her workplace, she agreed to go for drinks there.

Worst case scenario, she thought, the music will be terrible but at least I get to tease Jules about it.

Still clothed in the floral dress she had chosen this morning, but adding a few glittery touches and graphic eyeliner to make her look more nighty, y/n headed towards said bar where Jules was already waiting for her.

"Finally," she huffed when y/n rounded the corner and entered her field of vision. 

"Sorry, it was my turn to close tonight," y/n shot her an apologetic smile before hooking their arms.

They made their way inside looking for a place to sit. The bar was already crowded but not in an unusual way. Maybe it was the hour or the fact that it was a weeknight, y/n didn't know but felt grateful that it wasn't packed. She really wasn't a fan of crowded places.

They got their drinks and caught up as they usually would about their week. They were almost finished when the band walked up the stage and music started playing. Even before the first note, one look at their outfits made clear what kind of music they were going to play. 

They had an interesting aesthetic, y/n had to admit. They wore the same colour but each member had their own style. The band was made up of four guys, the bassist had long straight hair and he looked a lot like the singer who instead had curly hair, the drummer had short curly light brown hair and y/n couldn't see what he was wearing past a black vest while the guitarist had black hair that was all over the place and wore glasses. 

They had an androgynous aesthetic, each of them with beautiful makeup in tones of black and grey and the ones y/n could see clearly were wearing a sort of body. They looked stunning. Y/n had decided she liked them based on this alone. She had to admire anyone who had the guts to express themselves freely especially when it was in such an open and unapologetic way of going against gender norms.

After half an hour, the music stopped and after the singer wished everyone goodnight and they all climbed down. As she expected, they played rock music ranging from soft rock edging pop to hard rock that made her think a lot of ACDC. Y/n wasn't an expert in music but she had liked what she heard and wouldn't mind listening more from them. She was sure that she was going to catch some of their songs on the radio in the future. 

However, Jules picked up the conversation where they had left it before the concert and decided that it was the time where she'd complain about her recent love interest. Each of their weekly meetings had one of this moment. Unfortunately, it looked like Jules didn't have a lot of luck when it came to guys. And as it always would, she wondered if she was the problem asking y/n if the reason every one of her relationships failed because she was unlovable. As if.

"That's not true, I truly believe that you can learn to love anyone. Lest you get to know them, of course."

"Of course you'd say something like that."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"If you truly believe that, then you're not going to say no to this." Jules wriggles her eyebrows suggestively and y/n knew that the night is either about to become very interesting or about to go very wrong.

"The expression on your face is telling me that I should definitely say no to what you're about to say."

"Oh c'mon, it's just an innocent dare. Nothing too crazy, I promise."

"Which is?"

"You see that guy leaning on the bar? Long black hair with the black leather jacket?" Y/n turned around indulging her friend and eventually spotted the guy she was talking about. She took her time to look at him until she realized something that made her whip around to face Jules again.

"You mean the singer of the band?" y/n asked incredulously.

"Isn't he handsome?" Jules smiled wide completely ignoring the look y/n was giving her already knowing what was going through her friends' mind. "I want you to go to him and ask him out."

"What?" 

"C'mon", Jules complained reaching out to y/n over the table, "didn't you say that it was possible to love anyone? Can't you see yourself loving him?"

"That's not the point," y/n exclaimed still not believing that her friend was suggesting something so outrageous. "Can you see him loving me?" Because that man over there had "heart breaker" spelt all over him. And okay, y/n had to admit that this was a rush judgment she was making and it wasn't exactly fair but there was no way that a guy like him could be interested in a girl like her.

And yes, we could stay here and discuss all the reasons why that statement is wrong but still, if she were to put herself out there -something that was not like her at all- she wasn't going to go over someone so out of reach for her. And that was that.

"Listen, do you remember that video you sent me the other day?" Jules squared her shoulders, now looking fully serious at y/n. Unfortunately, y/n did remember the video Jules was talking about. She would have never guessed it would come back and bit her in the ass otherwise she'd never sent it.

Sighing, y/n looked down at the drink in her hands and thought about it. The video basically encouraged the viewer to go up to what they believed was the most beautiful person in the room and tell them exactly that. It may sound a little silly but at the time y/n had appreciated the sentiment. Going out of one's comfort zone. Challenging yourself. Because, what was the worst that could happen? That person shotting you down? That didn't sound life-threatening. Now though, y/n wasn't so sure. 

"Worst case scenario, just tell him I'm calling you and head back here." Jules offered, almost as if she could tell exactly what her best friend was thinking.

Looking at her best friend, something snapped in her. Jules was right. What's the worst that could happen? She already knew that the guy was going to shoot her down. She was prepared. It was a dare, a silly thing that could give her a story to tell to her nephews one day. 

What the hell, y/n thought squaring her shoulders. 

"You know what?" she downed the rest of her drink and got up from her seat, "I'm doing it." Looking in the reflection of the tissue box on the table to check how she looked, she fixed her smudged lipstick and ruffed her hair before nodding solemnly at Jules and turned around.

As she made her way to the bar, she could hear Jules cheering on her fueling her sudden confidence. 

The man of the hour was there where she saw him last. Her steps faltered as she realized that she had no idea how to approach him. What was she going to say? Oh my god, she was totally going to make a fool of herself. If she was not going to die for his rejection, she sure is going to die of embarrassment. 

She was almost about to turn around and abort the mission when his eyes met hers.

Well, fuck. There was no way she was going to back down now.

She regained her confidence and smiled at him while closing the distance between them. She smiled at him. Who was she? Did someone drug her drink?

He smiled back at her, turning so that he'd be facing her once she reached him and she almost stopped to pinch herself to see if she was hallucinating or something.

"Hey," she said once she stood in front of him. Good, she thought, let's start with something simple.

"Hi," he smiled back at her.  

Okay, okay, it's going good, isn't it? He hasn't ignored me, that must mean something, right? Yes, that he wasn't a rude asshole was her sobering thought.

"So," y/n started trying to take to time while she figured what to say, "I saw a video the other day," was what she ended up with. 

The handsome stranger lifted his eyebrows in amusement and took a sip of his beer. Y/n took that as a "go on then".

"There was this woman that basically dared anyone watching to go up to the person who they thought was the most beautiful person in the room and tell them exactly that." Well, let's just get it out of the way, I guess, she thought. "So, here I am," she added as if it wasn't clear enough.

However, as she saw the man's smile widen, y/n suddenly realized how really screwed she was. This man was way out of her league.

"Well, now that I'm here, I should also mention that you've really good at what you do too." 

"Not to sound rude or anything," he spoke for the first time that evening and y/n had already decided that he had been the gods' favourite in another life before he opened his mouth but now? as he heard his low and raspy voice? she was sure he had been at least a demi-god, "did you lost a bet or something?" he asked, his grey eyes boring into hers like he was looking into her soul.  

Who was this guy? and why was she feeling like this? Get a grip, y/n, she scolded herself.

"Is it that obvious?" y/n's shoulders slouched as some of the tension left them, a nervous laugh leaving her mouth. 

"I saw you downing your drink like it was some kind of bravery potion before you came here," he explained with a light scroll of his shoulders. "Not that I mind though," he added with what should be an illegal smirk. Smug.

"Yeah, I'm sure you've heard it countless time only tonight." Let's joke on it, she thought, there's still a chance I can come clean out of this mess. 

He chuckled and, not leaving her eyes, he slipped a hand through his loose hair pushing it back. "I meant that if you hadn't come I would probably found an excuse to come up to you too." He leaned back onto the bar looking completely unbothered, not as if he had said something that made her feel on fire. 

"Looks like I've to thank your friend for my luck." Looking over your shoulder, he held one of his hands up and lightly waving at Jules, y/n figured.

"Yeah, let's not tell her that or I will never hear the end of it." Rolling her eyes, y/n also leaned on her arm resting on the bar next to him. Whether it was the fact that all the cards were on the table or that what he said meant that he had to somewhat like her, she felt more relaxed than a couple of minutes ago.

"Before I make this solemn oath, I think it would be appropriate to know your name, don't you think?"

"It's y/n," she held her hand up for him to shake. However, he had something else in mind since when he took hold of her hand he turned it and held it up to his lips to leave a soft kiss on it. Y/n  almost rolled her eyes at the gesture if it wasn't for his eyes. They didn't move from hers and she found that she didn't want to stop looking at him. Like she was in a trance. Yes, he was handsome, even more so up close, so of course he was nice to look at but that wasn't why. It's the way his eyes glimmered as they watched her, the gentleness with which he was holding her hand, the softness of his lips on her skin. What would they feel like on her lips, she wondered.

"I'm Sirius." 

And that's how it all started. A silly video sent almost automatically to her best friend and an outrageous bet made y/n's night definitely interesting. To her luck though, Sirius became a permanent presence and not a one-night sensation.

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Tagging: @seldomabsent

[theonewiththefanfics]

Not You (one-shot)

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

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, SMUT

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

Word count: 5172

   “What is this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   “What did I do?”

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

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

   “Pardon?”

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

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

   “It was Sam’s dumb idea.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

   “Why didn’t you say anything?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   “Something like that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   “Yeah.”

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

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

   “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   “ ‘M on the pill, need you now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   “Stop, Bucky, stop.”

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

   “Do you hear that?”

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

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

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

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

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

   “Sam?”

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

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

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

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

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

   But the Captain-ex-Falcon disregarded his dig.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Bucky scoffed. “I would have!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

does anyone know how to fix that???

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

[ladykissingfish]

Under the Mistletoe with the Akatsuki // Part Nine // Pein (Nagato)

Leader. Never in a million years did Nagato Uzumaki believe he had it in him for be a leader, and especially not one of a group of S-ranked criminals like the ones that comprised his Akatsuki. But perhaps he really wasn’t; after all, save for Konan, none of them had even met him before. All they knew about him was Pein, the body that he animated and controlled through his chakra. Yet despite all he and his group have accomplished, the nagging feeling never leaves him ... that Yahiko would have done a much better job than Nagato. It’s one of the main reasons that Nagato fashioned his main Pein-body after his old friend; to try and infuse some of Yahiko’s wisdom and charisma into his own leadership style. One of the things Yahiko often stressed was the importance of having people around you that you could trust, and depend on. In short - friends. Aside from Konan, Nagato doesn’t truly consider anyone in this organization to be his ‘friend’ ... rather, he’s come to think of the group as a whole of being his family. And apparently families played games with each other, hence why he (as Pein) agrees to this mistletoe game now.

Kisame

“Good evening, Leader.” Kisame was by far one of the more desirable members that Nagato had strived to bring into his group. Mature, experienced with battle and ninjutsu, and one of the fabled Seven Swordsmen of the Mist. In any given situation, in any conflict between members of the group, Kisame will most often be the voice of reason. Nagato chose to pair him with the young but mature beyond his years Itachi, believing they’d have much to learn from one another, and he was correct. Out of all the duos, theirs was probably the most stable (and certainly the least problematic). Despite being both tall and intimidating, the half-shark had a surprisingly gentle, almost shy nature to him when one caught him in a one on one situation, as was the case now. Kisame walks up to Pein but seems unable to take the initiative, so Pein does so himself. He puts one hand on Kisame’s shoulder, leans up slightly, and kisses his cheek. Kisame blushes and grins, before going back to his room for the evening.

Sasori

Unbeknownst to the others, aside from Konan, Sasori is the only member of the Akatsuki that knows that Pein isn’t who (or what) he presents himself to be. After all, spending years hidden inside a puppet body gave one a little leeway into seeing into (or perhaps seeing past) others’ true selves. But Sasori understands Nagato’s need to conceal his real body; in fact, he’s even helped him a few times. He’s travelled with Konan before to meet the actual Nagato, when the latter came down with an illness that Konan wasn’t sure how to treat. Sasori used his extensive knowledge of medical procedures to help Nagato, and since then, the two had become good friends. He also gave him valuable advice (again from his own experience of using chakra to control multiple puppets at once) to Nagato in how to more effectively maneuver his Six Paths of Pein bodies during battle, even helping Nagato to tweak them to better control their movements. Sasori shows Nagato (and ultimately, Pein) the same respect that he would a fellow master puppeteer. He approaches Pein now, in his own body. Pein leans down and kisses his cheek, and the two nod at each other before Sasori returns to his own room.

Itachi

“He murdered his entire clan in one evening.” “Are you sure?” “Well, all but his younger brother. But I’m sure if he ever got the chance —“ Nagato still remembers the conversation he had with Konan, the day before they brought Itachi into the Akatsuki. Nagato had been against it at first, believing that one who could commit such callous atrocities against his own clan and family would no doubt have trouble turning against a group of people that were strangers to him. But Itachi pleasantly surprised Nagato, with how calm, and quiet, and kind he was. He often forgets how young Itachi is, considering he speaks and acts like a man decades older. But still ... there was a sadness that could be felt whenever Itachi was in the room, tangible even to someone who’s “real” body was quite far away, like Nagato’s was. When Itachi comes to him, the Pein body reaches out and pulls the boy into a hug. Itachi seems surprised, but whether out of respect to the leader or because he truly needed it, he lets the embrace happen. The two stand there for longer than seems feasible, until Pein breaks it by gently kissing Itachi’s forehead. Itachi steps back, gives Pein a smile (which turns back the clock even more and makes Itachi seem like a child) and goes back to his room.

Deidara

Nagato felt real, valid concern when bringing the 15 year old Deidara into his group. Besides being the youngest, besides having that volatile temper and wanton pleasure in causing chaos and destruction ... the kid was beautiful. An odd word for a male, perhaps, but it was the most fitting term for him. In the Akatsuki it was more or less made clear that Konan was off-limits in terms of things like that, but Deidara ... with his long silky hair, big blue eyes, soft skin ... what was to stop one (or possibly ALL) of these older (and likely stronger) members from attempting to — but Nagato was lucky, in that everyone exhibited more self-control than he gave them credit for. And pairing him first with the older Sasori and then with the wily Tobi had seemed to be good choices, as well. One taught him maturity, and the other, patience. Although sometimes — “Oi, Leader ... can you talk to Kakuzu for me?” “For what?” “He won’t let me have an advance on my pay, because he says I’m just going to waste it on ‘my stupid clay’, hm!” “I do not interfere with the financial decisions of my treasurer, Deidara.” “But —“ Pein kisses his forehead and says, quietly, “Learn to exercise restraint when it comes to your artistic endeavors, Deidara.” Deidara grumbles as he walks away, and Pein smiles and shakes his head as he watches him go.

Kakuzu

“Pein. No matter what Deidara said to you, you won’t convince me to give him an advance on his pay. That boy is already three weeks into his money, and our budget simply won’t allow —“ “Do not fear, Kakuzu. I don’t intend to step on your toes regarding our finances.” Never in Nagato’s life has he met anybody quite so concerned with money as Kakuzu. He was strict not only with his own money, but every other member’s, as well. While Nagato found this to be a character flaw at first, now, he saw Kakuzu’s thriftiness and frugal tendencies as being a God-send. It was only because of him that they were able to move from hideout to hideout, to put food on the table, to buy clothes and weapons and any number of things that the group needed to survive. But his finance-savvy ways weren’t even the most impressive thing about him; it was the fact that he dealt with Hidan, day in and day out, and had not been driven to madness. The older man walks up to Pein now, lowers his mask, and delivers a light kiss to the cheek. Pein nods and watches as he leaves, noting, as he often did, his cold Kakuzu’s skin is. Nagato can feel it through Pein’s sensors; standing close to Kakuzu is much like standing in front of an open grave. He often felt that he should suggest redesigning Kakuzu’s Akatsuki robe to make it warmer, but Nagato knows that this suggestion would be rapidly rejected.

Zetsu

On the day that it is Pein’s turn under the mistletoe, Zetsu is nowhere to be found. Nagato knows where he is, of course; traveling through the earth at the speed of sound, going to scout out an enemy territory before the Akatsuki makes a move on it. Zetsu and his infiltration skills have helped Nagato countless times in the past, providing valuable intel on targets and mapping out the most problem-free routes for the rest of the group to take on missions. Still, though; there’s something about the plant-man that gave Nagato the slighter touch of unease. Being near Zetsu, even through the barrier of Pein, gave Nagato the feeling of being inches away from a wild animal. Hearing him speak was like listening to a dog that suddenly begins speaking in a human tongue. Nagato is very glad that Pein does not have to kiss this individual, and in fact hopes that his turn will end before Zetsu makes his inevitable return.

Tobi

Tobi, Tobi, Tobi ... such a confusing young man. Such a surprising young man. Many months ago, the Pein-body walked into Tobi’s room to retrieve him for something, and happened to catch him sleeping. Nagato was curious and made his artificial body approach the side of the bed that Tobi’s face was on ... but all Nagato was met with was darkness. A solid, blurred-out black where the boy’s face should have been. Nagato thought that perhaps something was malfunctioning in the Pein body’s ocular region ... but everything else was clear as a bell. Did Tobi have some kind of exterior defense mechanism set into place that would bar Pein, specifically Pein, from seeing his actual face? And if that was the case, then WHY? What exactly was he hiding?? It made Nagato nervous, but he never let this on to Tobi. “Pein-sama, Pein-sama! Is it Tobi’s turn for a kissy?!” Pein nods and Tobi approaches him, slides his mask halfway off ... and again all Pein can make out is blackness. He can feel his cheek being kissed, but his vision doesn’t return to 100% until Tobi’s mask is fully back in place. “Thanks, Pein-sama!”, Tobi says; and is it Nagato’s imagination or is there a touch of smugness to his voice? Well, regardless, the kid is leaving, and a Nagato can put him out of his mind once more.

Hidan

“I’ve had to kiss every single one of you fucks, including the old geezer and the orange idiot. Now I’ve gotta slobber with the boss too?? What’s next; are we are jumping into bed and having a group fuck?!” Nagato hadn’t rolled his eyes in many years (and rolling Pein’s eyes would have been an unbecoming gesture for a leader), but hearing Hidan speak always made Nagato want to break this self-imposed rule. With his additional bodies, his Rinnegan, his seemingly unlimited chakra and his fabled Uzumaki clan endurance, Nagato considers himself to be an earthbound God. But then this kid, this foul-mouthed violent crusader, comes into the group speaking about HIS God, Lord Jashin, and flaunting his (admittedly enviable) gift of immortality. From the very beginning, Hidan made it clear that offering sacrifices to his God was his main priority; and the kid wasn’t lying. It’s always been Pein’s (Nagato’s) mandate that as long as one completed their assigned mission, then they would be free to do as the my liked in their spare time. But Hidan’s preferred “hobby” left even someone as war-weary and hardened as Nagato feeling a bit queasy, in the pit of his stomach. “Come, Hidan.” Hidan visibly balks at being given an order; but he’s never love hesitated to obey the Leader. He goes to Pein and, after Pein studies his face, receives a kiss on the nose. The gesture is so light and whimsical that it leaves Hidan blushing and flustered, as evidenced by his leaving without uttering a single swear word.

Konan

The kiss between Konan and Pein is ... disappointingly short. Surprising, considering how close the two of them are, and how much Pein seems to care about her. But it’s a very quick forehead peck, and then both Pein and Konan retire to their rooms. The Pein-body shuts down in his own room, but Konan is getting dressed. It’s a somewhat lengthy journey, especially for this time of night, but one Konan is very familiar with. She comes every single day, after all, after everyone else is asleep or preoccupied for the evening. The old cave is so far into the woods, and from the outside seems abandoned, but ... “Nagato? I’m here.” Nagato turns his head and, although he’s happy to see her, can’t help but sigh. “You’re soaking wet.” Konan uses her cloak to wipe her face, telling him it’s not a big deal, just a little drizzle outside... but it is to Nagato. Trapped like this, a prisoner of his body and his hatred and pain ... anybody else would have walked out and left him years ago. But Konan, no matter what, she stayed by his side, and showed him more caring and comfort than Nagato felt he deserved. “I brought you some beef and curry rice tonight,” Konan said, now uncovering a small bowl. “It’s still warm.” She moves into position to feed him, and as she does, she quietly tells him little tidbits about her day. It’s solely through Konan that Nagato has any sense of the outside world at all, or any REAL idea about what the members of the Akatsuki are actually like. And he’s grateful to her. He’s grateful to her for so many — “Konan?” She looks up from where she’d been tidying up. “Yes?” “I’m so sorry.” She stops and looks at him, head tilted. “Sorry? What are you sorry about?” “I’m sorry that you’re not married, I’m sorry that you don’t have children, or a family, I’m sorry that you go from hideout to hideout and village to village and all you see is the same pain we saw when we were kids. And I’m sorry that things are only this way because of me. I couldn’t save Yahiko, and I’m destroying you, and any chance at happiness you could have had. I never meant for things to be this way. I’m —“ but Konan’s arms are around him before he can finish his sentence. “You’re a goddamn idiot,” she mumbles, her voice slightly shaky. “Yahiko dying wasn’t your fault, and my life — my life is full, and despite what you may believe, I’m happy, Nagato. This Akatsuki you’ve created; you’ve done two things. You’re fulfilling Yahiko’s dream, and you’ve given me, US, a family. So stop with this nonsense, okay?” “But I —“, and Konan interrupts him again, this time with a soft kiss on the cheek. Her lips breathe warmth and comfort into his chilled skin. “You’re the most important person on this earth to me, and I love you,” she murmurs as she pulls away, a smile on her face. “But I swear if you don’t cheer up, you’re not getting any of this dessert I made.” A pause, and then, with a smirk reminiscent of the shy boy he once was, “I’ll only cheer up if it’s something I like.” “Strawberry pie.” Nagato gives Konan an even bigger smile, to which she replies “That’s better”; and the two laugh. He feels like a weight has been lifted off of his heart. After dessert, he tries to mentally prepare himself for her leaving again ...but to his surprise she pulls a blanket from her satchel spreading it out neatly along the ground. “You’re staying tonight?” “I’m staying.” “Good. I love you, too, by the way.” “I know.” Before bed she spends a good deal of time gently brushing out his hair, telling him jokes and stories, the same that she used to do with him and Yahiko when they were all children, during those many long, cold nights when hunger or anxiety kept them awake. Neither is present now, but the goodness of the feeling remains the same. After awhile they both fall asleep, and for once their dreams are calm and peaceful.

[farfromsugafanfic]

Waiting For Superman

Genre: Superhero AU, Comic Book AU?, Journalist Namjoon, Journalist OC, best friends to lovers, Action, Angst if you squint, Fluff

Pairing: Namjoon/Reader

Warnings: cursing, violence, injury, hospitalization, bombings, hostage situations, kidnapping, uses chloroform to make someone unconscious, alcohol, physics lol

Synopsis: After your father, one of the top antimatter scientists is killed in his laboratory by villain Outlier, you and your best friend, Namjoon survive the only known antimatter bomb, you both go on to be two of the top journalists in Metropolis. Only, there’s something off about you that most people can’t put their finger on. Namjoon is the only one who notices, not even you know your biggest secret. Hoping to protect you from Outlier, Namjoon also guards a secret of his own.

Note: This is the beginning of a new AU series. This is also in the same universe as my Jin imagine, Heartbreak Weather. This story will continue in the background of future installments.

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"Damn," you said, looking through the article proposals for the week. "I have five proposals to do a story on the two weathermen that got together. Is nothing else interesting happening in Metropolis?" Reaching into your desk, you pulled out your lunch consisting only of a slightly too brown banana. You frowned. "I hate to say it, but it's really too bad that Outlier has been so quiet lately."

Namjoon chuckled. "You'd wish for a little peril in Metropolis if it made a good story." His lips curled upward and he adjusted his slightly too large glasses.

You smiled at your head writer's sarcasm. "Just a little peril. Not too much." Turning around to place the accepted and rejected proposals in their respective boxes, you returned to find a bright yellow banana sitting on your desk. It made you pause, but you shrugged as you peeled it open. "Besides, Antimatter Man always stops whatever his antics are."

"It's not always Antimatter Man."

You hummed in response, already marking up an article in red pen. "Most of the time though."

The conversation lulled, but it didn't feel awkward. You'd worked with Namjoon for nearly three years now, but known him much longer. You were his soundboard and he was your common sense.

"Maybe we do a piece on his recent quietness?"

You looked up. Namjoon already met your eyes. He sat with one leg on top of the other, forming a triangle and his arms crossed over his chest. You'd noticed the way his clothes began to fit tighter, stretching over new muscles. It surprised you. Namjoon never seemed like the athletic type. You were more likely to find him studying physics at the city library for his newest piece on Antimatter Man than in the gym building a physique rivaling a marble statue.

"That seems like a good idea." The pen pressed to your lips you didn't notice the way the ink blotted against your lips. "You wanna take it on?"

"Sure." He pushes one leg off the other and stands up. "I'll try to have it to you by morning."

You nod, trusting him fully to have his piece ready for the morning edition. He moved towards the door and you felt as he paused. Even though you weren't looking at him, you could tell the way he stood, with his hand gripping the door frame, his body half in, half out.

"Don't stay too late, Y/N. He might be quiet now, but you know that won't be forever."

You did know. Maybe more than anybody.

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Outlier first started terrorizing the Greater Metropolis area when you were twelve. It started off typical. A few particularly successful bank robberies netted him more than enough money for a lifetime. If it were you, you would've taken the money and moved far away, lived out the rest of your days peacefully. But, Outlier didn't want just the money. 

When you were fifteen, however, it all changed. 

It was nearly 9 pm. Your father had not returned home from work. It wasn't all around unusual. He often pulled long hours at the lab. But you felt an itch at the back of your spine. Like a spider crawling up each vertebrae like a ladder. 

You called Namjoon. He was the only person you knew with a car, and the only one you knew wouldn't ask too many questions. Twenty minutes later, his headlights showed through the curtains of your bedroom. 

"Hey," he said. His voice greeted you, full of exhaustion and the buoy that had bounced back and forth in the water between you. 

Namjoon was your longest friend. You met in Kindergarten when you'd come across Namjoon in the back corner of the playground. Pushed against the pavement, two second graders tore off his glasses and put them on, mimicking his front teeth that stuck out before he got braces in high school.

You'd chased them off, managing to pick up his glasses off the ground. They were still broken, but you helped Namjoon tape them to get through the rest of the day. Since that day, you'd become almost inseparable. That was until you got a boyfriend.

You, of course, accused Namjoon of being jealous when he didn't immediately take to the idea of you and Vincent. Though, despite the accusation, you knew it was far from the truth. It wasn't hard to see that Vincent was bad for you. He was the reason your grades began to drop, why you knew the familiar burn of whiskey down your throat, and why were spending that night--Valentine's Day--alone.

"You haven't heard anything from him?" Namjoon backed out of your driveway before you even managed to get the seatbelt hooked. 

You shook your head. "He normally calls if he's running late."

It takes another twenty minutes to reach your dad's work. Located just outside the city, you could see Longevity Labs ten minutes before you reach it. Up on a hill, it was agonizing watching the building cycle in and out of view with every turn and switchback.

When you get there, you look up to the fourth floor where your father's lab was. The lights were still on and you felt the coil in your chest unravel a little. Though not completely. 

The elevators in Longevity Labs had been broken for years now and you didn't pay them any mind as you walked to the staircase and climbed the four floors. Namjoon stayed close behind, though you didn't speak. It wasn't the first time the two of you had come to the labs together when you'd become worried. After losing your mom when you were young, a burr of worry attached itself to your heart and poked you when your father wasn't home by eight.

The metal of the doorknob felt warm. There were plenty of reasons for that, you rationalized. Your father was one of the top scientists in Metropolis, he worked with all sorts of dangerous things that could need a warm environment, or cause one.

You pushed the door open and met your father's eyes. They were wide open and empty. A silent scream falling from his wide open mouth. Your vision blurred and the thing you remember next is feeling Namjoon's hand on your shoulder as his voice elevated. It was only then you noticed that you weren't alone.

"What are you doing here?" Namjoon asked, his voice like the bark of a guard dog. It surprised you. For a boy of barely sixteen at the time, it felt like he suddenly was a man standing beside you. You were still just a tiny girl.

The man wore a mask. Of course he wore a mask. It was white with two diamond shapes for the eyes, only revealing a small bit of his pupil. The man didn't speak when he opened his hand, a metallic orb drifting upwards. He didn't throw it, but the orb moved quickly, like it was falling.

It was only later you learned that it was rigged to move upward like that. Real antimatter would act just like regular matter, nearly indecipherable. This--while true antimatter--was meant to hold your attention long enough. 

The explosion pushed you towards the ceiling. You woke up to a firefighter reaching for your hand. It was only when you took it and tried to place your feet on the ground that you noticed that you and Namjoon ended up pushed through the wall and into the vent system near the ceiling. He wasn't fully awake, yet his arms still reached for you after you were peeled away from his body.

The two of you were the only known survivors of an antimatter bomb. Well, it was more like a grenade. Your father's lab, body, and work was largely destroyed in the explosion, but for some reason, you and Namjoon survived. It's wide believed that there was something wrong with the bomb. That it didn't attack your living cells. 

You and Namjoon did not come out unscathed. Somehow, you got off fairly easy with a broken collarbone, a concussion, and a few deep cuts around your body. Namjoon, on the other hand, never fully awoke for a week. He'd broken three ribs, one of his lungs collapsed, his head injury much worse than yours, permanent damage to his spine. When he woke a week later, you wanted to envelope him in a hug and never let go. 

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

Namjoon found you curled up in the newspaper archives at midnight. He was the only one who knew your Valentine's Day ritual. He moved the papers from your lap and took the glass of wine from your hand before it spilled. Just like every year, the paper was open to your dad's obituary and the news coverage of the explosion.

The edges of the paper were brown and crisped as if they were sixty years old instead of ten. His brow furrowed as he touched them. Between his fingers, the brown edges lightened as he brought them towards the light. 

Ever since that night, your mission was to expose Outlier. You knew he wasn't some superhuman. Your dad worked with antimatter to harness its capabilities for good. For medical applications and using its destruction for renewable energy. Outlier wanted to use antimatter in the way everyone feared. To destroy. 

As he moved the paper with your father's smiling face, he saw another, a jolt running down his spine. The headline took up almost half the page, "New Hero Emerges In Fight Against Outlier."

Outlier's antics became more calculated. Everyone knew he had the capability to use antimatter, but his subsequent movements involved raids of laboratories outside the city and taking a graduate student hostage. No one else died.

It was during the hostage situation that Antimatter first saved the day. It was around a year after your attack and Antimatter Man successfully infiltrated the laboratory and got the hostage to safety before the entire lab exploded. It was only in his next act of heroism that the city realized he was more than just someone who risked his life to save someone. He had powers.

Next time, Antimatter Man disabled a device strapped around a victim's neck with just a touch. It was determined to be a miniature explosive that would've destroyed the man had it gone off. The hero could manipulate antimatter. Destroy it--and was later determined--create it. 

When Antimatter Man caused an explosion in an alleyway, he was lucky that only one bystander died. Like all the previous times he disabled one of Outlier's antimatter devices, he placed his hand on top of it. Instead of feeling the molecules burst like boba, he felt an energy build until it exploded.

Outlier purposely placed a more standard bomb that would explode in the presence of antimatter. It was a test. One Antimatter Man hadn't anticipated. In fact, it was rumored the hero had no idea the full scale of his abilities until that moment. The only reason he came out unscathed is because he was able to clock himself in antimatter to prevent the explosion from destroying him.

Namjoon knew that Outlier knew who Antimatter Man was. While the general public may not know that Antimatter Man was a victim of Outlier, or that he used chunky glasses and the Metropolis Daily to control the public's view of Kim Namjoon and Antimatter Man. Outlier was the only one who knew, not even you.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

The authorities always told you that Outlier may come back. Your father was the most prominent scientist working with antimatter technology and there were likely things Outlier had not figured out yet. He may come for your father's notes. Yet, he never did. 

You weren't too worried about it anymore. It wasn't as if Outlier had a personal vendetta against you or your father. You hadn't seen his face. You'd practically passed out when you saw him, and probably would've had he not dropped the grenade when you locked eyes.

Still, you always watched your back when you walked from the Metropolis Daily office to your apartment. It was only a few blocks, but normally traversed after dark. Sometimes Namjoon came with you, though most of the time you persuaded him to just go back to his own place. Especially this night, you did not want Namjoon to know you didn't plan on going home.

Normally, when you hid your plans from Namjoon, it was because you were heading somewhere dangerous for research. Like the time you drove out into the forest on your own in search of Outlier's supposed hide out, or the time you decided to follow a man suspected to be Antimatter Man. Even as an editor, you still wrote, tending to keep the most hard hitting stories for yourself. Besides, few of your journalists were willing to possibly get close to Outlier. You'd survived once, you felt you could again.

However, this night, you were headed to the club. There was no reason or ulterior motive. You simply wanted to let loose. You knew Namjoon wouldn't like it. He wasn't smothering, he let you make your own decisions and do what you want, but his disapproving and worried looks always cut you deep.

You knew it all came from a place of concern. He always told you how thankful he was that he was with you that night. But, you always fit a pit of guilt in your stomach. Namjoon nearly died because of you. There was no way you were going to let that happen again. 

You'd changed into something sexier before leaving the office, leaving your office clothes in your desk drawer. You always kept an extra set there any way in case you needed to pull an all nighter at the office. It was rare you got to go out and enjoy yourself on a Friday night and you already felt the contentment rising in you as you approached the club and heard the rhythmic thud of bass.

This particular club wasn't one with a line of people which was why you chose it. There was no wait. You could get in and out easily and without fuss. When you didn't get to do things like this often, you wanted to truly get to do them. 

It wasn't long until you lost yourself. In the crowd. In the music. In your thoughts. Or rather, lack thereof. This is why people liked clubbing and loud music. It drowned out your worries. Everything became a constant hum in the back of your skull, where, for once, you could ignore it.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

Namjoon had suspicions. It started when no fruit stayed ripe around you. The way that the microwave always sparked when you tried to make popcorn. And no matter what you did, it always ended up just a little too burnt. Nothing you did was ever quite right, but never quite wrong. 

He always found his way to you whether he wanted to or not. It was as if the particles in his body were attracted to yours. Recognized them like their reflection. You got into a car accident two years ago and Namjoon had left work early that day, having felt an aching in his lower stomach. Fearing appendicitis, his supervisor sent him home. 

He'd walked a block when he came upon it. You were sitting on the sidewalk, your hands pulling at the roots of your hair and your feet pointed towards each other. Something caused you to look up then. Namjoon wondered if you had the same uncanny sense he did, if you could put together when the other was in peril. When you saw him, your arms came around him and your shaking body burrowed into his for warmth.

When he was eighteen and you were seventeen, the two of you briefly shared an apartment. Namjoon had started taking classes at the university and you were in your senior year. While your dad had left everything to you--you were all he had--you sold the house a year after your dad died, unable to live there alone. 

You'd come home one night after a basketball game. Namjoon always encouraged you to go, wanting you to feel like a normal high schooler. Though, while he was well intentioned, the efforts were ultimately fraught. You'd left at halftime because you think the concession stand hot dog made you sick. 

Yet, when you came home. You found Joon spread out on the couch, bottles of alcohol spread around him like the crime scene markers around your dad's body. He'll never forget the light touches on his shoulder, then forehead, then bicep. The way it reminded him of feeling just a little too warm on a winter's night, pleasantly so.

His feet brought him to the entrance of the club and his heart sped up. You never came to places like this, but Namjoon knew you had the secret desire to. You'd always loved to dance even though you weren't particularly skilled at it. He walked inside, loitering at the edges of the dancefloor. 

Namjoon had to keep himself from sneering at the sweaty bodies and couples dry humping each other. He never really understood the appeal of clubs. His eyes flit across the crowd, spotting your hair first. Even though you'd worked all day, you looked beautiful still. Your hair a little frizzier than usual and he recognized the tiredness in the way your moved your body to the bet. It wasn't lazy exactly, but it didn't have the same gusto as some of the others around you. 

He wondered if his feeling had been off. Maybe he was just too on edge lately because Outlier had gone so silent. There was a parasite in the back of his mind that fed him anxieties. Was he planning something big? Had he finally figured out to build the bomb he wanted to? Was he committing lower level crimes Namjoon wasn't privy to? Did he know about you? 

Watching you dance, he shook his head. You weren't in any danger. It was just in his head this time. Turning with his hands in his pockets, he took two steps towards the door of the club when he looked back and caught a glimpse of your smile. It was rare these days and not something he wanted to ruin with his worries.

With a small smile of his own, Namjoon left.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

You ended the night at around two a.m. You'd had two drinks, not enough to make you stumble out on the sidewalk, but enough to make you feel like you were. Taking off your heels, you gripped them in your fingers as you walked back towards your place. The walk should take fifteen minutes, but in your current state, you found yourself sauntering along as if the streets of Metropolis were perfectly safe in the wee hours of the morning.

If it were not for the alcohol in your system, maybe you would've sensed the presence behind you. Maybe you would've seen the dark shadow lingering behind you for the last two blocks. It wasn't until a hand clamped over your mouth, the other clamped around your jaw to prevent you from biting down on your abductor's fingers.

It was then you tasted it on your tongue. The rough, bleached taste of fabric. Something mildly sweet. Like laughing gas at the dentist.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

Namjoon prided himself on his intuition. When you called him the night your father died, he almost ignored it. Nearly blinded by his teenage jealousy, it was a small pain in his stomach that made him answer his phone and rush to you that night. 

He had the same pain now. Just below his ribs this time, he rubbed his fingers along the cotton of his button down as he glanced at your dark, empty office. You hadn't come in for work this morning. No one heard from you last night or this morning. And, despite this being unlike you, no one else seemed concerned. 

You'd gained a reputation for your independence and ability to take care of yourself. You hardly ever asked for help--and while your own mind tended to think that an admirable trait--it only made Namjoon's mind race more. However, this made everyone else go about their day. 

A half hour later Namjoon stood in his boss' office. "I'm not feeling well. Would it be all right if I took the rest of the day off?"

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

When you came to, you immediately noticed the lack of rough rope around your wrists or ankles. When you opened your eyes, however, you noticed the white cuffs floating half an inch from your skin. One cuff circled each wrist and another two around each ankle. You knew enough about how Outlier operated to know about these.

First seen in his second major hostage situation following your father's death, these cuffs did not touch the skin. But, if the hostage moves or tries to escape and their skin brushes the edge of the cuff, the invisible antimatter will attack the matter rich skin, flesh, and bone.

The first hostage to have worn these cuffs lost a hand before she understood how they worked. Now, Outlier gained easy compliance with even just the threat of his antimatter cuffs.

"Ah, so you've heard of them?"

Outlier sat across the room. HIs diamond slit mask shrouded in the shadows of the dimly lit room. It made your heartbeat easier knowing he still wore the mask. It meant he didn't plan on killing you. At least, not yet.

"You know--" Outlier paused, a soft lilt in his voice that annoyed you. Normally, the sort of singsong quality he had would make you flutter your lashes at him across the bar. Outlier's voice though, sounded like a children's song slowed down and played backward. "The technology for those cuffs I developed from some of your dad's research."

He stood up, moving closer. "The ability to suspend antimatter around a given object using the only gas in our world that antimatter cannot destroy. Quite brilliant, really."

As a teenager, you really did not know much about your father's research beyond its main goal: make the world better using the one thing that could destroy it. Your father had seen success in his lifetime. The use of antimatter in some medical technology aided the treatment of cancer and detecting major illnesses. It had saved lives. 

You'd looked over a bit of your father's surviving research, of course. The things you had mainly consisted of experiment notes, a few crude sketches, and one report about a failed experiment. Nothing of value, really. It's why you always brushed off Namjoon's worries that Outlier would come back for it. What did you have that he would want?

"I imagine you know why you're here." Outlier was now only a few feet away and he leaned leisurely against the wall as if he were an old friend visiting your new apartment.

"No, I--"

"But, my assistant has something they want from you first."

Your head turned to the darkness in front of you from where Outlier had originally come. You made out the figure of another man. Smaller in stature, he shuffled slowly into the dim light. He didn't wear a mask, his hair falling into his eyes. 

"My report," he said, his voice hesitant, almost scared. If you didn't know any better you'd believe he was the one being held hostage by Outlier. "Do you have it?"

"Your report?" Your brow furrowed as you thought about the one report you had. It detailed only the attempt to create an anti-oxygen particle. "I-I don't think so." 

The air in the room became stuffy. Outlier seemed not to believe you, his arms crossed. You had no idea who Outlier's assistant was, but you were certain that whatever experiment he was a part of, your father would never have done something to make this man resent him. You almost wished you had the report.

"My assistant, you see," Outlier began in his singsong voice. "Suffers from a particular ailment brought on by one of your father's experiments. It tends to leave people, breathless. Isn't that right, Yoongi?"

The other man--Yoongi--glared at his supervillain boss. Something turned in your stomach. Yoongi didn't appear to be overly loyal to Outlier. Maybe he would be your key to getting out of this. 

"Well, that was merely a favor. His report was never recovered and I thought there was a chance you may have it. But, now onto the real reason I've brought you here."Outlier crouched down, coming face to face with you. "Now, for an experiment of my own."

From his jacket pocket, he pulled out a short rod. Holding it above your bindings, the cuff fell limp and motionless against your wrist. You nearly flinched, worried it would begin cutting through the skin. But, it didn't.

Despite his mask, Outlier's form seemed to perk up at that. As if he had the first evidence that his hypothesis was true. With his thick, black gloves, that you were assumed were made of antimatterium--an element created by your father to make the handling of antimatter safer--Outlier slipped the ring off your wrist.

Reaching pack into his pocket, he pulled out a new ring and placed it around your wrist. It looked identical to the last, white, vaguely metallic with a visible field of matter--or possibly antimatter--surrounding it. Stretching it over your hand, he slipped it around your wrist. 

"It should only take a few minutes." 

Outlier stood back up.

"What's the point of this?" you asked, becoming more frustrated that nothing was happening. You knew you should be thankful you are still alive. It would be easy enough to kill you and rummage through your apartment for whatever he wants. Yet, for some reason, he refrained.

"I imagine you can figure that out on your own." Outlier watched the ring around your wrist carefully. "My biggest foe can only have a mind that rivals my own."

Biggest foe? Your mind turned over the possible meanings of his words until it clicked. "You think I'm Antimatter Man?"

Outlier didn't flinch. "Of course."

You laughed. You couldn't help yourself. While you'd never come to face to face with Antimatter Man himself, it was obvious that the superhero was easily many inches taller than you and his shoulders were easily the entire length of one of your arms.

"Me? Of all people?"

"It would make some sense, wouldn't it? Very few people survive the blast from an antimatter bomb. And those that do often acquire certain--capabilities."

You shook your head. "But, I'm not the only one who survived, Nam--"

You were interrupted by the sound of Outlier's surprise as well as the sound of banging from outside the room. Yoongi--who hadn't been paying attention--suddenly popped his head up and glanced towards the door to your left. With so many things happening at once, you chose to only focus on where Outlier's eyes went.

The ring around your wrist had begun to crumble like cheese. Bits falling off as they became too heavy or lost their support. Squinting your eyes you wondered how this was possible. You didn't get a chance to hop on your train of thought before the door burst open.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

Antimatter Man burst into the room. He never wore a specific costume like superheroes were often penchant to do. Normally, he just wore an all black ensemble and a mask, obscuring most of his face. A hat usually then kept his hair hidden, beyond the tiny wisps of light brown you saw peeking out from underneath.

"Let her go," he said, his voice matter of fact and deep and familiar. 

Outlier--to his credit--did seem genuinely surprised. Though, he bounced back quickly, ordering Yoongi to shut the door. The other man did so slowly and pathetically, letting it scrape against the splintered hardwood floor.

"Hmm, well, it would seem your presence here would confirm that my original hypothesis was wrong." A pause and he points down at you. "But I may have a new one."

For some reason, it took you this long to put together that you were destroyed the ring imprisoning your left wrist. Why hadn't the first one crumbled into nothingness like this?

"That ring is made of matter. Like most things in our universe. However, it is designed to crumble when it detects antimatter energy. She produces antimatter energy. Probably in small amounts which is why she and the world haven't destroyed each other yet." He looks back at Antimatter Man who's dark eyes are flitting between you and the villain. "Much like you, my nemesis. You destroy all antimatter you come into contact with through the latent production of pure matter. You really should correct the press on the name, you know?"

Your mind swirled. You created latent antimatter? Did this explain why everything in your life with a timespan seemed to die or wilt quicker than usual? Why people found you just slightly off?

"She has the potential to be my greatest weapon. If I can harness the antimatter inside of her. Determine whatever is producing it, I would no longer need to spend weeks producing such tiny amounts." You were certain that if his mask was off, his face would be lit up like a child's. His hand reached for yours and he pulled you up off the ground. The cuffs shifted with you since both you and the antimatter cuffs were under his control. Would they even work on you though?

Outlier held your back against his chest. It surprised you how much he felt like a normal man. Of course, that's all he was in the grand scheme of it all. Outlier was nothing more than a man desperate for something.

"No!" Antimatter Man sounded almost desperate. "Don't hurt her! She's been through enough. She didn't ask for it. She didn't even know about it. Please just let her go. I'll--" You can also hear the thoughts turning in his mind. "You can have me instead."

Your eyes went wide. Antimatter Man seldom placed himself directly into Outlier's hands. He was known for foiling the villain's plans remotely, sometimes even not showing up to the scene. And, even when they did come face to face, it was usually brief. What made this so different? What made you different?

Also, why did he talk like he knew you? Sure, your story had been in the papers a long time ago? You occasionally met a stranger who would recognize your name, but it was becoming less and less common with every passing year. How did Antimatter Man know you?

Outlier's grip on you tightened. One of his hands reached down for your wrist and held it up. Taking hold of the cuff, he brought it within millimeters of your skin. 

"Now, let's be civilized about this. If you were truly worried about this girl because of her past, you wouldn't have let me take her in the first place."

Antimatter Man gulped. His body was stiff and his hands opened and closed. It reminded you of how Namjoon kept a stress ball in his desk drawer for whenever he had a stressful day. He'd squeeze and release it a few times in time with his breaths, getting out of his head. 

"Yoongi," Antimatter Man said, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. "Open the back door for me would you?"

Yoongi didn't move. His gaze was hard, but not in a way that felt piercing or like he was looking through you. He was thinking.

"Yoongi," the villain said again. 

Yoongi didn't move.

Antimatter Man took the opportunity and lunged. It was a risk. The cuffs still encircled one wrist and both your ankles. As you fell backward, it felt as if the world moved in slow motion, you watched your wrist fling back, hitting the ring of the cuff and bounce back, completely unharmed.

You land on Outlier's chest, but his grip on you loosened. You got up but immediately felt your legs give out. Someone caught you and you looked up to see Yoongi looking down at you. He didn't speak, or really show any expression beyond motioning to the back of the room where there was a door concealed within the wall. Likely, this was the back door Outlier wanted him to open earlier.

Even though Yoongi was working with Outlier, you felt like you were free. Something told you he was helping you. The man obviously did not swear much loyalty to the villain. You reached and pulled the cuffs off, causing Yoongi's eyes to widen and you felt his arms waver as you tossed them in Outlier's direction, hoping one would at least chink his antimatter protective armor.

Someone winced. And you recognized it. It was the same pain you heard that night when the bomb went off and you felt Namjoon's body wrap around yours. When he woke up in the hospital and you couldn't help but hug him, forgetting he had multiple broken ribs. Even in his pain, he didn't stop you.

"Oh my God." 

You wrestled out of Yoongi's grasp. Outlier--seemingly not really wanting to fight--ran as soon as Antimatter Man fell to the ground. The cuff had sliced through his clothes and a gash opened on his leg. You crouched next to him and reached for the gash, applying as much pressure as possible 

"It's not as bad as it looks. It'll heal by tomorrow."

You looked up at him and met his eyes. It was him. It had to be. You reached up for the edge of the mask. He didn't stop you, his dark eyes watching your hand as you reached up and revealed his identity. 

Namjoon.

[eloquent-vowel]

Part 2 "I am" Bucky x OFC (#043)

Description: #043 is Dr. Leeb's greatest success. He took immense pride in raising her to be the perfect combatent and it was finally time for her skills to be put to use. His only worry is bringing outside variables into his perfect equation but when the heads of Hydra give you orders, you follow them. #043 is sent on her first mission and things do not go as planned.

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Slow burn, very much a slow burn. Bucky Barnes x OFC, Winter Soldier X OFC.

Warnings: Canon typical violence

Here is the second part of #043's story! I'm sorry there is no Bucky yet but I can promise that he will be coming in soon! (I did say that this would be a slow burn). Enjoy! <3

Part 1

Dr. Leeb sniffed again, those damn cleaning products always set him off, he had tried his damn hardest to get used to the smell of the sterile facilities but even after thirteen years his nose would not stop running, it was so embarrassing. Especially at a time like this, when he was in conference with the very head of Hydra. They had contacted his lab about using #043 in the field, he had agreed without hesitation- he knew his project was ready and he could hardly contain his excitement as the General laid out the mission briefing. It was finally time to show the whole of Hydra just what he could achieve, they would finally respect his mind.

"Dr. Leeb we have read your reports, #043, code name Eris, sounds very promising. Can you back up your claims?" The man known as The General spoke, his voice although tinny through the speakers of his office carried a deep undertone of threat. If Dr. Leeb was not sweating before he was now, he had rehearsed for this moment all he had to do was speak. He cleared his throat, sniffed and dapped at his forehead with his handkerchief.

"Well, General." He cursed his voice for coming out higher than normal. "As you know former experiments for the Eris project came up negative but #043 is different, whether this is due to her age or her biology I do not know, there is a possibilty-"

"Dr. Leeb, cut to the chase, what can she do?"

"Ah, right" He loosened his tie a bit, were the fans even working in here? "Yes, #043 is the perfect blend between technology and humanity. She arrived to us in a... less than ideal state this has meant that her left leg had to be amputated above the knee and her right leg was amputated below the knee, her legs were replaced with advanced prosthetics, based upon the Winter Soldier project. These were replaced to grow with her, it was a marvel really how we managed to make them grow perfectly wi-"

"Doctor!"

"Ah, sorry, yes, well. These legs allow her to run faster than the average human being, she has reached over speeds of 60mph - this of course is helped with the super soldier serum that she has adapted to perfectly. The serum, of course, has made her taller, stronger and altogether better. She is only 16 and has already grown to be 6 feet tall, it is likely that she can grow more, she can lift her body weight easily. She has also received the benefits of advanced healing, there has yet to be an injury that has not healed within the day. #043 is trained in Muay Thai, Judo, Comat Sambo to name a few, she has mastered firearms and the use of close combat weaponry- being most proficient in the use of brass knuckles. Her senses are enhanced by the serum have given her a great skill in prediction. She is brutal, cold and most importantly, loyal to Hydra."

Dr. Leeb nervously pushed up his glasses, it was impossible to read what The General was feeling. The man's face was eternally stuck in a position of serious anger- it was rather intimidating.

"This sounds promising Dr. Leeb. I read that she was trained intellectually as well?"

"Yes, yes #043 can speak Russian, English, German, Chinese, Japanese, French, Romanian and Spanish fluently and has been taught how to use the most advanced technologies. Her physical training has always taken priority, however, but I can assure you General that if you have a wall to break through she can do it."

There was a beat of silence as the General seemed to mull something over, there was a rustle of paper on the other side of the monitor. Dr. Leeb took in some deep breaths as he waited for the General to say something, dabbing at his forehead once more to try and get rid of the sweat dripping down his brow.

"Is it true, Dr. Leeb, that you believe she could take out the Winter Soldier?"

"Yes." Dr. Leeb answered without hesitation. "We are waiting for confirmation from the scientist on the Winter Soldier project but we are scheduling for them to meet. Remember she is has yet to reach full maturation, there is no doubt that she could best the Soldier when she is fully formed, we just wish to... encourage her to see him as a threat and enemy."

"Your faith is evident, Leeb, very well, here is the details of the mission- if she fails it will be on your head Doctor."

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

#043 was training, as usual, she was in the middle of combat training facing of against a large group of hydra soldiers. While she knew she could defeat them one on one, having six of them attack at the same time was proving much more difficult. It was practically impossible to dodge and block every hit coming her way, much less think about landing a punch. She currently unarmed so at least two hits on vital areas would be necessary to knock one soldier unconscious. As she was dodging she began to form a plan, she would have to spread the soldiers out, she could tackle one down and run through them but they would see that coming a mile away, she could try throwing one away but that would take far too much time. There was only one option left, to jump.

#043 stopped dodging and planted her feet, she doubled her efforts to block incoming blows and began to tense her knees. The mechanical legs clanked and whirred as the cogs inside them tightened- the only warning any of the soldiers got was the hissing of hydraulics as #043 released the tension within her legs and shot straight over the heads of the group of soldiers. She twisted in the air and landed heavily in the ground with a loud cracking sound as the concrete broke below her. She was now facing the bewildered looking group of soldiers, she smirked, as they began to run to her. Just as they reached her she jumped once more, landing right at the back by the slowest member. They were down in two swift blows to their kidney's and temple. This unfair game of cat and mouse continued until it was only two soldiers remaining.

The following fight was easy to her. One of the soldiers was taken out by a high kick to the head from her left leg and a solid stomp to the sternum cracking numerous ribs and collapsing his chest. The other was simply ended by a push kick to the chest to put them off balance and #043 swiftly grabbed one of their legs and threw them into the far wall where they impacted with a harsh thud, leaving a rather large dent in the plaster. #043 drew in a deep breath and relaxed, letting her hands fall to her sides just as the voice of Dr. Leeb entered the sandpit.

"Well done, #043! You continue to improve day by day." She felt her eye twitch as he sniffed once more. "I have some good news for you, you are to go outside."

"Outside?" Her voice was gravelly from lack of use.

"Yes, you are about to go on your first mission, it is a rather simple one mind you- I think the General is just trying to test me with this- I have no doubt that you will succeed with flying colours, you are my perfect equation."

"What will I have to do?"

"You are to infiltrate the home of a Mr. Hugo Malet, a prominent figure in the arms trade. Hydra has a target on his head and you, my dear, have the honour of being the gun who aims for it." Dr. Leeb began walking away, gesturing for #043 to follow. She eyed her trainer waiting for permission. The stern woman just gave a nod and #043 was off walking just behind Dr. Leeb, peering over his shoulder to the files he held in his hand. He continued to brief her all the way to his office.

"Mr. Malet here has a holiday chalet in the French Alps, a rather modest six bedroom, five bathroom ordeal, wholly unnecessary for his family of four but if you have the money. Such a shame he got that money by selling weapons to the wrong people. Here." Dr. Leeb sat in his desk chair before sliding the file over to #043. "Look at him, memorise his face, his family is meant to join him in the chalet in a week but if there are any others witness you must eliminate them as well- do you understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Repeat it to me."

"Hugo Malet, Chalet, French alps, no witnesses, no traces left behind."

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In the helicopter over to the Alps #043 did not know who was more nervous, her or Dr. Leeb who had insisted on monitoring the mission in person. The plan was simple, she would parachute down to the drop zone two miles away from the chalet and run to the chalet where, under the cover of night, #043 would erase the traitors.

"T-10 mins until deployment."

The announcement over the intercom spurred her into action, she began triple checking her harness and parachute, placed the night vision goggles over her eyes and ensured that the mask covering the lower half of her face was secure. Once she was sure she was ready she took her position. The side door opened to reveal the pitch black, snowy exterior of the alps, the temperature was immediately freezing . Dr. Leeb piped up behind her.

"Do not disappoint me #043, once this goes successfully the Eris project will be a reality. You know what will happen if you fail."

#043 shivered at the threat, memories enclosed walls, electric chairs and sore flesh flickering in her mind and with a single nod she jumped.

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

The run to the chalet had been uneventful and soon the chalet was in view. There was a warm glow coming from within and through the window #043 could see the figure of her target walking around the lower floors.

"Status report" The voice of Dr. Leeb crackled through her earpiece.

"Target sighted, moving to engage."

Armed only with a silenced pistol and her brass knuckles she moved stealthily through the pine trees until she found the backdoor. Much to her joy it was unlocked and she entered silently. There was the faint sound of some sort of soft music playing in the front room, following the noise she crept towards the slightly ajar door down the corridor.

She entered the room, pistol first, to see Hugo Malet sipping wine on the couch, sitting in front of the fireplace a woman - presumably his wife- under his arm. Without hesitation #043 shot both figures through the back of the head, killing them instantly. She approached the bodies, turning them both over to confirm their identities.

"Target is dead, his wife also."

"Great job, #043, no witnesses. Return to Location Alpha"

#043 stared at the two bodies for too long. They were slumped, still cuddled against one another, their eyes dull and lifeless. If it wasn't for the bullet hole through their foreheads'. Their lives had so easily been ended, they had not even seen it coming. She had taken lives before, but they had always been fighting her- it was her or them. This was new, the easy kills. The easy killing felt wrong, she felt wrong, her hands began to shake. Her mask began to feel too tight, the air in the room was too dense for her to breathe- desperately she made her way to the window- opening it to let the fresh air hit her face.

"Mummy? Daddy? Can I have some hot chocolate?"

#043 froze, the voice was high pitched, a child's voice, her head turned in horror to watch the door to the front room open and the Malet's youngest son enter the room. His face immediately creased into confusion, too young to understand why his parents were slumped, motionless on the couch. He was so small. #043 knew about the concept of children, she was certain she herself must have been one at some point, but she had never realised how small they are. This one must have only reached her knees, his small arms were reaching for his parent's until he caught #043 in his sight. She slowly raised her pistol.

"Who are you?" The small child asked

"I am..." she stuttered, who was she? A number? How old was she? Was she once this child, this small, this helpless, this clueless, this... innocent? The boy's eyes shone with tears and fear.

"Are you a friend of Daddy's?"

Such innocence, so small, every fibre of #043's being was screaming at her- no witnesses- but her hand was shaking, her hands never shook, there was some p[art of her that refused to harm this child. The longer she looked into his eyes the farther down she pointed her pistol.

"I am..."

But if she left this child alive she would be put in that chair again, she would be hit and placed in that tiny room, she would be a failure and Dr. Leeb would be disappointed in her. She slowly began to walk towards the small child who simply looked up at her, wide eyed and teary.

"Who..." The child's voice faded away as #043 was looked directly down at him.

"I am... Eris."

With that Eris hit the child over the head with the butt of her pistol , enough to knock him unconscious but not enough to kill him, then fired a shot into the ground by his head, she hoped that an ambulance would arrive soon. She took a deep breath before climbing out the window, leaving the crime scene behind.

"Returning to Location Alpha, No witnesses remain."

Part 3

[classified-bluerose]

WANDAVISION S1E5 SPOILERS ( & COMICS SPOILERS TOO ) !!!

—

here we go. this is very long, so. buckle up.

my original theory had wanda trapped within westview unknowingly - later episodes disproved that. however! i believe now that parts of my original theory are true. wanda is not in control. someone else is. she can alter certain aspects of her reality, and probably believes she’s in total control. she isn’t.

she notes that she can’t remember how it all began. she seemed taken aback during some of the episodes when the sitcom faltered and allowed reality to blink through. she didn’t summon pietro/peter - so who did?

behind every show is a writer, a director. wanda may be starring in her perfect sitcom, but who is directing it?

- agnes? is she mephisto? or perhaps she’s agatha, married to mephisto. her husband is mentioned several times but never shown.

- pietro/peter himself is mephisto in disguise. though why he would choose this particular iteration of pietro is uncertain.

- dottie is mephisto.

1. the sword director is shady a.f. why not share the information about wanda’s break in when he first sent monica out into the field? and, if part of vision’s will was to not be ressurected OR made into a weapon, then what the hell was sword doing with his corpse in the first place?

consider: the security footage from wanda’s break-in. vision’s body was disassembled. sword director immediately labelled wanda a terrorist. which was always going to happen - i mean, pre-endgame/infinity war, wanda was a wanted felon on the run from the government. which gives sword exactly the right ammunition to use against her. of course, monica was having none of it, and stepped up to defend her. hayword decided to use monica’s drone to launch an attack on wanda. he had no qualms about killing her - and potentially her children. he also chose to keep this information from monica, because he knew she would never have agreed. he is not to be trusted; and i think monica knows that now.

2. onto vision’s enlightening moment with norm. now, norm doesn’t ever name wanda as the one inside his head. instead, he refers to this person as ‘’her’’. not naming her has to be intentional. which means he may not be talking about wanda. of course, vision is going to assume it is wanda, having noticed how strange his life with her is. monica was shaken when she began to remember her life before westview. herb, when trying to tell vision about why monica was there, is visibly terrified. norm grows agitated and upset when vision lifts the manipulation. even dottie becomes freaked out when woo’s voice comes over the radio. who in the town doesn’t act disturbed or scared when the sitcom falters? agnes. she acts like a professional actor on a soap or sitcom. she looks to wanda for direction; but could it be she is the director of this whole thing? or perhaps she is an agent of mephisto, (or master pandemonium) who could very well be her unseen husband, ralph. that is, if she’s not mephisto herself.

3. now. the twins. the twins, whom i do not trust. they know too much. their powers and wanda’s powers combined could explain the aging up process. but i believe the twins are a product of the same thing as the comics: fragments of mephisto’s soul. while this storyline was rewritten to swap out mephisto for master pandemonium, it’s more likely that it’s mephisto behind this. regardless of mephisto’s identity within the show, it the twins were created using fragments of mephisto’s soul, they may be more like him than wanda or vision. i know in the comics they get reabsorbed into mephisto/pandemonium. i lowkey want that to happen because i don’t like them lmao. sorry wanda! but, we know that wanda is using whatever is around her to rewrite reality. so if mephisto is nearby, his soul would be powerful enough (even fragmented) to create two (semi) human children. agnes says you can’t control kids. maybe that’s why there’s no other children in westview?

4. and finally, the big moment. the introduction of evan peter’s peter maximoff. she calls him pietro, of course, as this is the name he used in this universe. there are plenty of theories to explain his sudden appearance. if mephisto is a resident of the town, and controlling wanda, they may be using her desires to keep wanda in westview. her mentioning him in the past 2 episodes would have had him in the forefront of her mind. mephisto may be aware that vision is beginning to fight the reality he’s in, that he’s ‘’waking up’’. so he/she/they bring in her brother to solidfy wanda’s fight to remain in her new home. what good does this do for vision, though? how will it convince him to stop fighting? he doesn’t even remember his own universes’ pietro. perhaps mephisto is hoping that with wanda now having her family complete will urge her to fully control vision. perhaps mephisto had to bring this version of pietro over from the x-men universe due to an inability to revive the mcu’s pietro? and another big question; is vision alive? if wanda was reanimating his corpse and making it seem as though he was alive, wouldn’t he just be whatever she made him be? surely he would have no independant thought, no capability to question the world around him. if he is alive - how?

working theory: wanda discovered that sword had taken vision’s body. heartbroken that the man she loves won’t get to rest in peace, she breaks into sword and ‘’rescues’’ his corpse. whatever her plan was following that, something happened that we haven’t seen yet. mephisto appeared, drawn to wanda by her pure grief, rage, and loneliness - and made her a deal she couldn’t refuse. bring vision back to life, place her in a familiar, comforting world where nothing changes (ex. a sitcom) and they can live a normal, happy life together. mephisto does not go into detail about wanda’s new reality; when she agrees, she isn’t entirely aware of what she’s signing up for. mephisto wipes her memory (and visions?) of the deal, and sits back in wait. the more wanda starts to realise that she can control aspects of her reality, she does what she can to protect it, not fully understanding what’s going on. only knowing that she isn’t willing to let go of her home. sword are panicking, because they’ve lost vision to a woman with exceptional abilities (who happens to be labelled, unfairly, a terrorist). hayward uses this to turn all heads in wanda’s direction, desperate to vilify her and keep the attention off of sword’s vision project. back to the deal - what would mephisto get in return for this exchange? my best bet is the children. although why he would want that, to lose 2 fragments of his soul for their creation. unless his soul was already in fragments and lost, and wanda’s creating her kids was one way for him to retrieve them? agnes is there to either help wanda, to take care of her, or to keep her in line.

the parts in italics and bold are linked to the evidence in the first paragraphs.

THE COMMERCIALS:

each commercial seems to link to wanda’s past; essentially retelling her path through the mcu.

1. first up, the toaster by stark industries. it was stark weapons that destroyed wanda’s childhood home and left her and her brother orphans. this is the inciting incident in wanda’s story.

2. the vonstrucker watch. following her parents demise, she is radicalised and volunteers for hydra, alongside pietro. she is experimented on by a hydra scientist named von strucker.

3. hydra soak soap. this could be another reference to her history with hydra. it could always be a hint that hydra is somehow involved in wanda’s current situation.

4. lagos paper towels. with no commercial in episode 4, episode 5 advertises paper towels by the brand name of lagos, the tagline is ‘’for when you make a mess you didn’t mean to.’’ at the beginning of civil war, wanda is part of an avengers mission in lagos. the mission goes wrong when wanda accidentally redirects a bomb and kills civillians. this incident is partially responsible for the sokovia accords - and we should also remember that wanda’s intentions with ultron were not the same as his. she didn’t mean for sokovia to be destroyed, or for her brother to die. she most likely blames herself for all of that.

the commercials are, essentially, a shortened walkthrough of her trauma, and there is plenty of it.

note: wanda is the defintion of traumatised. she has lost everything. she is alone. she has had no time to process the death of vision; those five years post IW never happened for her. she blinked, and five years had passed. she was then immediately thrown into a battle against thanos. for her it’s been about five minutes since she witnessed thanos crushing vision’s head for the mind stone. she then finds out natasha and tony have died, and that steve is out of commission for good. everything has been ripped away from her. there’s no avengers. no family. no boyfriend. no one. i want to see what happened in the three weeks between endgame returning the dusted and the beginning of wandavision.

[andorlorian]

okay so I do have an anakin fix it au floating around in my brain in which revenge of the sith goes as well as it possibly could BUT that's not the important part of this post the IMPORTANT part is what happens to maul in this au. (disclaimer: all I know about maul's backstory is from watching the clone wars and reading his wookiepedia page so some of this might be inaccurate. bear with me)

okay so because order 66 didn't happen, maul is brought before the council. he was sith so the council would want to deal with him personally

I think with palpatine dead (fully and completely 100% dead no take backs) the influence of the dark side everywhere would be lessened. everyone would feel a lot clearer, happier, brighter, like a dark cloud had been lifted from their mind. this would include maul.

however, for maul, diving deep into the dark side has been something of a coping mechanism. amassing as much power as possible and giving yourself over to this dark higher power means you don't have the contemplate the fact that you were stolen from your family and home world and fed incredibly damaging rhetoric from the man who 1) let you die 2) immediately upon finding out you were still alive electrocuted the fuck out of you and killed the last part of your family and (imo) the only person you ever truly loved

so maul upon arriving to the jedi council, while slightly less affected by the dark side, is still full of pure rage, hate, and a clusterfuck of other emotions brought about by thinking about the jedi. he's a whole disaster

okay this is going to get very very long I'm going to put a read more here

I imagine some in the council would like to kill or exile him and be done with it, but after the inherent trauma of the clone wars and seeing how far separated from their ideals the jedi order has become, they'd show him mercy. this part may not necessarily make 100% sense but shut up this is the good things for maul au maul gets good things

therefore, the council would vote in favor of rehabilitation. what I imagine this would look like is maul would be heavily guarded and watched, and whenever possible he would be visited by jedi masters (and masters ONLY. they're not dumb)

maul gets his own quarters, which are big enough not to be stifling or tiny but small enough to still fit in a jedi temple where they value austerity and forsaking possessions. they would want to give maul as much freedom as possible while making sure he couldn't be a threat to anyone around him, which would mean he doesn't have much freedom at all. he's fed and watered and visited by at least one jedi master a day. these visits are usually someone meditating and trying to rehabilitate maul's mind while not being openly invading, rather guiding maul's broken mind into its natural state and removing palpatine's influence. these visits are also good old fashioned therapy (maul desperately needs to talk some shit out)

it would take a very very very long time but with guided meditation and constant consistent kindness and understanding shown to him by the jedi maul would start to heal. one of the major things that palpatine forcibly shoved into his brain is a distrust and particular hatred for the jedi, but after spending so many years in their care and with constant (almost annoying) understanding that belief system would start to break down.

it would start small. like one day maybe instead of feeling rage and anger around savage's death he feels sadness because for the first time he's in an environment where he has the space to breathe and remember his brother

I think once maul has actually started to improve a little bit and moved past his rage and murder phase that's when obi-wan would visit him. which would definitely bring back some rage and murder but also it would bring maul some closure. I'd imagine they'd both need some sort of closure, considering maul killed qui gon and obi-wan essentially killed him. but obi-wan saying something like "I forgive you. I'm not your enemy." that might throw a wrench into maul's thinking

so over time, maul is becoming less and less emotionally tumultuous. he's in a stable environment in which a set group of people visit him daily solely for the purpose of rehabilitating him, both through the force and just regular conversation as equals. eventually, after enough time in this environment, whoever maul is beneath the rage and pain and the dark side would emerge

this is the side of maul that I wrote this for. this is why he's one of my favorites.

maul is deeply intelligent, and rather calculating. while he usually forgoes rational thought to scream "kenOBIIIIIII" into the night he's very good at assessing a situation and how to get the best possible outcome. he feels things very deeply but he's incredibly bad at naming exactly what his feelings are and he's not very good at reading the emotions of others. I think a flaw of his is that he really forgets to take emotions into account, while for the jedi that's kind of their whole thing. (yeah the jedi are stereotyped as unfeeling warriors but that's not true at all, they acknowledge and release their feelings into the force. for them their feelings are the force.)

I think one day when maul is beyond resisting his existence at the jedi temple, when he slowly realizes "hey my life sucks a whole lot less than before" he manages to actually solve a problem for one of the masters who visits him regularly and has become the closest thing he can really have to a friend. said master (maybe kit fisto just because I like kit fisto) rants about a problem or a mission that they're having and maul just goes "well it's obvious, really." and manages to solve the problem like that by nature of his unique perspective.

and after a looong amount of time has passed, maul's role shifts from enemy, victim, and a patient to being a voice of rationality, a problem-solver, and someone to rant to when the whole jedi master thing gets to be A Lot™

seriously though I cannot stress how long it would take for maul to heal and get to this point. MINIMUM five years.

eventually maul and some people he's forged friendships with petition the council to allow him to have some more freedom. while extremely hesitant, without palps clouding their vision they could much more clearly see maul's mental state and what sort of danger he would pose to the jedi, and they would let him move freely about the temple

okay here's my favorite part of this whole thing. maul is a fucking nerd. he discovers the jedi library and goes insane. maul would read so many books about so many different things because he's interested in everything and he'd want to build his knowledge in a myriad of subjects. he would spend hours upon hours in the jedi library just reading every single thing in there. he'd beg one of the masters to let him access the "forbidden knowledge" just because it's knowledge and he wants it. and if that didn't work he'd find a way to break in (the forbidden knowledge did not disappoint).

I also think maul would love to spar with lightsabers and stuff. he'd know techniques the jedi wouldn't, and so in friendly spars with people he'd managed to befriend, he'd actually give them a fight and teach them something, while also learning new techniques from the jedi

I think maul would consider becoming a jedi for a brief second. he's happier here than he's probably ever been, finally free from palpatine's influence and in a healthy environment. but he knows it's not his path.

after spending a long time living at the jedi temple, having carved out something of a life for himself, made friends for the first time in his life, having finally achieved emotional stability, he approaches the order on his own. they expect, after having been long used to his presence, for him to ask to be a jedi. but he comes with an unexpected proposal.

maul asks to leave the jedi temple to go home to dathomir, to see what had become of his family and of the nightbrothers. he's much much more stable than he was, but he still has burning questions that palpatine would never have let him find the answers to. and he genuinely does want to get there, eventually. but he also wants to learn more about the force that the jedi wouldn't teach him, to learn more about the sith.

his departure is surprisingly more emotional than he was expecting. the jedi temple was the first place he'd ever actually felt safe, that he'd been allowed to just exist. he would miss it.

armed with all the knowledge in the jedi temple, he searches for knowledge the jedi wouldn't have access to. he finds the remains of mortis, and researches the mortis gods. he spends a period of time wandering around like batman crushing the people he doesn't particularly like (usually people objectively morally horrible. he spent years with the jedi he has ✨morals✨ now). he even made his way to ilum, and found two crystals to forge a new double-bladed lightsaber. (the blades are yellow.)

maul would also study ancient sith texts, and spend a lot of time investigating old sith temples (like the one on malachor). however, he doesn't have the same burning desire to seize the power for himself anymore. it's an odd feeling.

eventually he does return home to dathomir to find the genocide of the nightsisters (with only one nightsister, merrin, remaining) and the nightbrothers in disarray after the loss of the dictatorial government they'd lived under for generations. maul ends up taking over a la mandalore (but with a lot less murder and awfulness. ✨morals✨)

what I'd love to see is maul founding an opposite sort of order to the jedi. not necessarily the sith, since the sith treated him horribly and destroyed his entire life, but i think maul would believe that for the force to truly be in balance, you couldn't try to eradicate an entire half of it from the galaxy. I would love to see maul found an order of dark side force users that teaches about how to use the dark side, how to avoid total corruption, and the correct channels for the power you control.

maul would be a very effective teacher in the dark side because of how much experience he has with it. he experienced the absolute worst of the dark side, the total corruption and loss of self, but he also used the dark side to save the nightbrothers from destroying themselves after the loss of the nightsisters and used his power to keep them together and safe (not to mention the period of time with Batman Maul where he used the dark side to help people).

also I would love to see the new generation of jedi and the new generation of dark side users not to be in opposition for once. by nature of maul being rehabilitated by the jedi, he would teach about them and their teachings with a modicum of respect, and the two orders would be seen as two sides of the same coin. twins, almost.

maul would not be a child snatcher, he was child snatched. the dark side is different from the light in that its always there. it comes much more naturally to force users, and unlike the jedi, it wouldn't require you to join from a ridiculously young age. his order is always known and always open to any force user who wishes to learn about the force.

maul's life comes to an end peacefully, at his home on dathomir, having built a new society for the nightbrothers and a new order for users of the dark side.

[polaroid15]

Febuwhump Day 1: Mind Control

It’s heeeeeere! 

Summary: The one where Parker luck is proven to be the worst luck. But hey, at least he's got the best family in the world to help him through it all.

Read at https://archiveofourown.org/works/29138196/chapters/71533821

Love you guys!!  Thanks for joining me on this journey! 

---

Chapter One

Peter doesn’t realize that something has gone terribly wrong until the last alien hits the ground.

At first he’s excited, body thrumming with adrenaline as he sidesteps over their victory. The fight had been, for lack of a better term, a satisfying study break. He takes a moment to stretch out the tightness in his back and shoulders, relishing in the cold air as his heart rate calms.

Satisfied, he sweeps his eyes across their small battlefield in search of a familiar flash of red and gold. Though the fight had started on the ground, they’ve ended up on the rooftop of some ritzy skyscraper, the city stretched far beneath them and painted gold in the dark light of the moon.

Aside from all the alien guts, it’s not a bad view.

“Tony?”

The man had called him just over an hour earlier asking for his help in scrambling up a couple of rouge aliens from their last big mission. Being close by and more than ready to assist his hero, Peter had been in his suit and by Tony’s side in a matter of minutes, hardly believing his luck. Somehow, despite everything they’ve been through, he still managed to get nervous every time he fought alongside his hero.

To his relief, however, the fight went off without a hitch. Unlike their normal brand, neither sustained any injuries, ‘finishing off the fight with flare’, as Tony would say.

But where is he now?

“Tony?” Peter calls again, slipping off his mask and looking around with enthusiasm. “Where’d you go?”

His voice carries and dies in silence.

“Hello?”

Confused and a little unnerved, Peter spins on his heels in a full 360 and debates putting his mask back on to ask Karen for Tony’s location. It’s out of character for Tony to vanish like this, and it makes his stomach tighten in worry.

“Mr. Stark!”

“Here.”

Peter jumps and turns towards the noise, feeling relief leak into his limbs. “Oh. H-hey man. There you are.”

Tony doesn’t say anything, stiff as a board and levitating a few feet off the ground. There’s a chunk of metal missing from his helmet, ripped clean through so his right eye and nose are showing.

“You’re mask-”

“Peter Parker?”

“What? Yeah Tony. Are- are you okay? You look a little off. Did one of the aliens hurt-”

But there is no ‘you’, because before Peter can finish his sentence, Tony is flying towards him at an alarming speed, repulsors glowing bright. Startled, Peter jumps out of the way and shouts in alarm. “Tony! What the-”

A fiery blast of hot energy hits the ground between his feet. Yelling out once more, Peter scrambles back, hands raised in frantic defense at the sudden rush of heat. “Tony! Stop! What are you doing?”

He doesn’t get an answer. As Tony progresses forward, Peter tries desperately to connect with the man, but his eyes are as blank and empty as the night sky behind him. It’s then that it all comes together, and Peter feels his heart stutter in his chest.

“Oh- oh no. Did you breathe in any gas? Oh God. You did, didn’t you?”

Another blast of energy is fired towards him. It barely misses his shoulder and the material of his suit begins to smoke. Not good. So not good. The aliens were known to produce an aerial toxin that triggers the brain to be particularly inclined to violence. Someone would kill their own family if exposed to it.

And right now, Peter is the only target.

Just his luck.

“Snap out of it Mr. Stark! Wake up!”

Peter feels his heel catch on uneven cement and he stumbles, falling hard on his butt and using the momentum to scramble backwards on his hands and feet. The fear hits him now. He feels it in the sharp sting on the back of his tongue and the inability to fully breathe, his spider-sense screaming and making his head spin. He moves to pull on his mask and realizes in detached wonder that he no longer has it in his hand.

“Peter Parker,” Tony says again, his voice monotonous and void of everything Peter is used to. It’s chilling, and Peter lifts a shaky hand in warning.

“D-don’t come any closer!”

But Tony does. Without blinking an eye, he closes the distance between them and encloses his gauntleted hand around Peter’s outstretched wrist. Before Peter can comprehend the pain, his web shooter sparks with electricity as the gadget breaks under pressure. He screams as his wrist snaps along with the mechanism and arcs his foot up in a reflexive kick. It hits Tony in the abdomen and succeeds in forcing the man to let go, pushing him back a couple steps.

Breathing heavily, Peter scrambles away, broken wrist pinned to his chest protectively. He can feel Tony following him closely and gasps when his metal fingers close around his shoulder, halting his escape.

Peter uses his remaining web shooter to fire a web at Tony’s oncoming fist, pulling the force of it off course so it slams into the concrete at their feet. It breaks like ice around the impact and the shock of knowing it had been directed at him leaves him weak.

“Tony please-”

Undeterred, Tony swings his arm with the web out to the side, throwing Peter off his balance. As he stumbles, Tony uses his other hand to throw a hard punch into the boy’s ribs. He hears them crack but hardly feels the pain, tears welling in his eyes.

“This- this isn’t you. Look at me-”

Peter gasps as his undamaged wrist is pinned against the roof, the metal crushed just like the first. As he screams, Tony finds his eyes, staring blankly and completely unaffected by Peter’s pain.

“It’s me. It’s- It’s Peter. This isn’t you! Fight it!”

The panic and fear in his body has made him numb. When Tony closes his hand around Peter’s throat, he can barely blink, let alone fight it away. The very real possibility that he’s about to die races through him like lightning.

“T-Tony. Mr. Stark.”

The pressure on his throat increases as the man lifts him off the ground. Peter manages to lift his hands to the vice grip, fingers curling around Tony’s in an attempt to relieve the strain. It makes his wrists shoot in pain and for a moment, all he can see are stars.

When his vision clears, he’s hanging by Tony’s hand over a 100 story drop. The city swarms like an anthill beneath them and Peter tightens his hold against Tony’s. His web shooters are shattered.

If Tony drops him, he will die.

“Tony,” Peter chokes. With every ounce of being he can muster, he searches Tony’s eyes. Just as before, they hold no resemblance to the man Peter knows. His hero. His friend.

His family.

“Don’t drop me.”

The grip tightens so dramatically that Peter thinks his neck will be crushed before he even gets the chance to fall. Despite the pain, he refuses to break his eye contact with his mentor. They glimmer against Peter’s reflection, glassy and distant.

“Not your fault,” he chokes. It’s hard to speak around the vice grip and nearly impossible to pull together sentences through the thick fog in his head. But he tries, even when his vision tunnels. It’s important. “I- I- forgive you. Don’t- don’t blame yourself, okay?”

He needs Tony to understand. This could be his last chance, and more than ever, despite hanging above certain death, he knows it to be true.

“I l-love you.”

There’s a flicker of recognition in Tony’s eyes. A glimmer of himself that almost has Peter believing that it’s over, that they’ll be okay.

But then Tony drops him.

He doesn’t have the breath to scream.

Though Tony disappears quickly from his view, Peter keeps the man’s face in his mind as the ground races up to meet him. It fills his eyes with tears, the injustice of it all.

Tony will never forgive himself.

And Peter is going to die.

The wind rips through him viciously as he plummets. He’s fallen through this same skyline countless times and can hardly believe it’s his last.

He closes his eyes and sees May’s face beside Tony’s. Ned and MJ’s, too.

Though he’s never prayed before in his life, the words come to him now.

Help them be safe. Help them be okay.

He wants to be brave. He wants it more than anything.

Eyelids dark, it’s impossible to tell how close he is to the ground. The sounds of traffic draw closer, he thinks he hears a scream.

The impact is jarring.

It hits him all at once, stealing his air and lighting every broken bone on fire. For one soul wrenching second, he thinks the pain of it is his last conscious thought. That just like that, his short sixteen years have expired into dust.

Then he feels metal arms under his shoulders and thighs, hears through the static the distant roar of repulsors. Swears and sobs echo through it all in a delirious cocktail of grief, and Peter comes to the realization quite slowly that he hasn’t died after all.

“Tony?” It’s weak and breathless, like he’s just hopped off the world’s fastest roller coaster. With the last of his energy, his eyelids separate and he sees Tony’s face, covered in tears and unmistakable horror.

He had caught him.

“Tony-”

They crescent their journey on the top of a different, much shorter building. Peter feels himself being laid on his back and for some reason beyond his current comprehension, can’t find the strength to move from it.

Above him, Tony has his head in his hands. He’s shaking and Peter tries to reach out towards him, to show him he’s alright, but all he can do is twitch his fingers.

“Nice- nice catch.”

Tony’s shoulders still, going dangerously quiet. Peter watches with blurred vision as his face appears from behind his hands, the eye Peter can see bloodshot and brimming with an emotion he’s too tired to fully recognize.

“Pete-”

“Not your fault,” Peter breathes, exhausted. He closes his eyes and almost can’t find the strength to open them again. His body feels like the plane he had crashed in Coney Island.

“It is my fault,” Tony says. There’s tension and remorse coloring his voice, which tremors violently. “Christ, Peter. I hurt you.”

“You- you saved me.”

“No!”

“You always save me.”

“Peter-”

“S’okay.” He tries for a smile, but it must look like a grimace because Tony stifles another noise of regret. “I’m okay. I promise.”

“Oh kid-”

With a rush of vertigo, Peter feels himself being pulled up into Tony’s arms. It’s only until he feels the warmth of Tony’s skin that he realizes he’s removed himself from his suit. It’s nice, familiar, and the last of Peter’s resolve vanishes like smoke.

His hero.

His friend.

And in some ways, his father.

If he hadn’t known it before, he sure as hell knows it now.

“I love you too, kiddo,” Tony whispers, and Peter feels their hug tighten, as if it’s the man’s sole intention of never letting go.

And maybe, Peter thinks, it is.

[jawritter]

Just A Dream...

Writing Prompt 17. Love Is Overrated.

Winchester Fantasies 1000 Followers Challenge. @winchester-fantasies​

Warning: Unrequited love, angst, some language, fluff if you squint, I think that’s it.

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam x Reader (just friends)

Word Count: 1757

A/N: As always all mistakes are mine! Please don’t copy my work! Feedback is golden! Hope you guys enjoy this one!

Want more? Check out my Masterlist!!

****MASTERLIST****

Sitting on the hood of Baby you look out over the slew of people that were filtering in and out of the bar that the Winchester’s had talked you into coming to in order to “celebrate” another successful hunt. 

The only problem was you didn’t feel much like celebrating. 

Sure the hunt had gone great, and with the track record, you all seemed to be having it was very nice to have a win for once. 

A simple Vamp nest, in and out, no casualties, no near-death experiences, just a simple, head rolling, vamp kill.

It was a pretty large nest at that, about 12 Vamps. All dead before they even knew they were under attack thanks to Dean who not only had reflexes like a cat, he seemed to be getting even lighter on his feet with age. You couldn’t even figure out how that was possible, but he was a Winchester, and they were the best, so you weren’t surprised by very much when it comes to their abilities anymore; you just learned to just roll with it.

Most of the time you’d be right in there with them, drinking, hustling pool, or just blowing off steam in general, not this time. 

See, you had a problem that you didn’t really know just how you were going to handle.

Over the past three months that you’d been living with the Winchesters, you had fallen for Dean pretty hard.  Something in this life you knew that you shouldn’t do, so you had to figure out what exactly you were going to do about it. 

Were you going to run? Because you’d gotten pretty good at that over your lifetime of hunting. 

Were you going to tell him that you had feelings for him, or even make a move, risk getting turned down, and kicked out of the bunker that was now your home? That didn’t seem like a wise move on your best day. It wasn’t like a stable place to crash was easy to come by in your line of work, so you really didn’t want to screw that up.

So, you found yourself out here, away from Dean and that blonde that was currently attached to his face. It was easier to sit out here and people watch feeling sorry yourself, than to face the fact that whatever you decided to do about your feelings for Dean, it wasn’t going to do you any good tonight. He obviously planned to be otherwise engaged for the evening, and didn’t have time to hang out with you; even though he called you his “best friend." 

Right now you don’t feel much like a "best” anything. You felt like the second choice. 

“There you are! I was looking all over for you,” Sam said, leaning against the hood of Dean’s beloved Impala next to you with his arms crossed, looking you over with a smirk on his face that told you Sam might be slightly tipsy. 

Tipsy Sam was your favorite version of  Sam because he just had no filter. It was a rare jewel to witness, and you welcomed the distraction and the company. 

“Yeah, I needed some air,” you lie to him, as you both watch a couple of local idiots fight over the very chick that you saw inside not five minutes ago kissing the bartender… 

Oops…

 Maybe you should tell them?… 

Na, they can figure it out on their own. You needed entertainment anyway.

“Needed fresh air, or need to get away from my brother, and his new friend for the evening?” Sam said, giving you a knowing look, and nearly making you fall off the hood of Dean’s car. 

The look on your face must have been priceless because it threw Sam into a fit of hysterical laughter. 

“Don’t give me that look Y/N, I’ve known for a while now. You’re not as smooth as you think you are at hiding it,“ he said, wheezing as he tried to catch his breath. 

You cursed under your breath, you covering your face with your hands and hoping the ground would open up so that it could swallow you whole. Should you pack your shit when you get back to the bunker, or just leave right now?

"Hey, it’s okay, Dean doesn’t know I promise you,” Sam said, sliding onto the hood next to you and throwing his arm over your shoulder.  “The man isn’t exactly what I’d call observant when it comes to things like this, but I see the way you look at him, I can tell. You might be surprised if you tell him you love him, how much he loves you too, he’s just too scared to say it." 

You look at Sam for a moment wanting more than anything to believe what he was saying was true, but just not able to convince yourself it was. 

”Love is overrated,“ you tell Sam, sliding down the hood and standing on your feet. "Your brother doesn’t love girls like me. He loves girls like that blonde he’s with right now. Girls he can blow off some steam with, and then leave in the morning. No attachments, no consequences." 

Ignoring Sam, who was calling your name, you take off walking back toward the hotel you’re staying at with the boys to pack your things and be gone before they come back to the room. 

You didn’t want to give up your home, but you couldn’t sit around with Sam knowing how you felt about his brother, because you knew he was probably back at that bar right now telling Dean all about it, and when Dean came back in to either give you the sympathy, ‘I love you, but as a friend only’, or 'you need to leave because this just isn’t going to work,’ you’d already be gone. 

Even though you were strong, you just couldn’t handle the rejection you knew was coming. 

Not from him... 

No from Dean... 

When you got back to the room you started throwing your stuff into your bag as fast as you could. You were hoping you’d have everything packed, and be long gone when Sam and Dean got back to the room. 

Apparently, you weren’t going to be so lucky, because as soon as you threw your last shirt into your bag you heard the distinct rumble of the Impala outside the door. Car lights flooded the mostly dark room as you stood by the bed, holding your breath, and waiting for the storm that was sure to come. 

You didn’t even have time to turn around fully when the door to your room burst open, and Dean practically fell through the door. 

The two of you stood stock still as you stared each other down, his emerald green eyes boring into your y/e/c eyes. His jaw set tight as he looked at you. You committed it to memory, the way his eyes sparkled in the dimly lit room because you just knew he was about to throw you out. 

His eyes traveled down to your bag on the bed, then back up to you. Swallowing hard he looked at you like you had literally just kicked his puppy. You hated it. The silence was thick, and heavy in the room, and it was more unbearable than the impending rejection. 

"Dean you have to say something.” Your voice came out barely above a whisper, but in the silence, it felt like a scream. 

Dean came into the room, and closed the door behind him, closing the distance between you in just a few short strides. The look of a man on a mission replacing the hurt look that was there moments before. 

Without a word, Dean grabs your face in his hands, crashes his lips into yours, putting all he had into it. There was so much emotion attached to it that it was almost overwhelming, love, passion, hurt, tenderness, fear…. All things he wanted to say, but just didn’t know-how. His tongue gliding over yours as he deepened the kiss, determined to kiss away all the hurt, and rejection he’d caused you over the time you’d spent with him. 

When he finally pulled away your wold was spinning, his hands still on either side of your face, his eyes piercing yours, staring into what felt like your very soul, his chest heaving as he fought against emotion you couldn’t really even read. 

“You can’t do that. You can’t just say love is overrated, and then walk away just to run away from me.” 

You looked down at the floor fighting against the tears that threatened to spill past your defenses. Your heart is so fragile right now that it was afraid this wasn’t real. Like it was a dream and any moment you were going to wake up disappointed, and heartbroken. 

“Dean.." 

"Sh, let me finish,” Dean stopped you mid-sentence by placing his thumb gently on your already trembling lower lip. His touch is more gentle than you ever imagined it would be like you were some precious glass, and if he wasn’t careful you’d break. 

“Sweetheart, I’m crazy about you, but how are you going to let me show you that if you run away before I can get the chance."  

His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you tight against this strong chest, his lips traveling down your collar bone as his hand slipped under your shirt, brushing lightly against the skin there.

"Y/n…." 

"Y/N!!” Dean’s voice called from somewhere far away… 

That couldn’t be right… 

Dean was right here….

With a violent gasp, you sat up, finding yourself on a cold, dirty warehouse floor, Dean shaking you in an attempt to wake you from whatever had happened to you. Your body aches as your vision focuses on those beautiful green eyes that you loved so much. 

“There she! Damn it sweetheart I thought I was too late!” Dean said in a huff, pulling you into a tight hug. You were confused, One minute you were in a motel room, kissing Dean like you had always wanted to do, now you were here. In the middle of a cold, dark, filthy warehouse feeling like you’d been sucked dry then ran over by a Mack truck.

“Dean, what happened? Where am I?”

“You’re in Dallas, Texas. Remember? We were hunting that Djinn. It captured you in hospital last night when we were investigating the body? It doesn’t matter though, it’s dead, you’re safe, now we can go home.”

You sat there while your heart shattered at your feet. 

It was a dream… 

It was all just a dream….

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

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[padawanlost]

i have to admit im still a bit confused as how Vader still carry on the chosen one prophecy through out OT. i know georges said he still is and i trust the man's vision but imo killing out sidious for selfish reasons too (luke) doesnt counterbalance the fact the force was plunged in darkness by 3 decades of genocide. what do you think? (ps: thank you so much for all the wonderful metas)

Hey! Thanks :) The Chosen One prophecy is a bit complicated as is Anakin’s role in everything so I’ll break it all down in parts:

“You have got to remember that this is one movie, and it’s meant to be seen I through VI. So, I think when you watch the actual movie in order, the story will become very clear: that Anakin is the Chosen One. And even when Anakin turns into Darth Vader, he is still the Chosen One.” - George Lucas

The prophecy of the Chosen One

The Chosen One prophecy was made thousands of years before the events of the movies. by the time TPM starts, it’s considered a myth by most so they don’t know *exactly* what it means and how they supposed to deal with it. As we saw with Anakin’s visions, prophecies are tricky. 

Because some Jedi have been able to use the Force to anticipate possible future events, it is not surprising that Jedi records relate various accounts of prophecies. The Great Holocron contains many references to the prophecy of the Chosen One: A Jedi will come To destroy the Sith And bring balance to the Force. Records are unclear about this prophecy’s exact origin, or whether the above words were the actual prophecy or a concise interpretation. Several accounts indicate that the prophecy was the subject of debate as far back as twelve hundred years ago, but it may in fact be much older. However, records do establish that approximately two hundred years before the Battle of Yavin, Jedi Masters became aware of an abrupt change in the shape of the Force, and many believed that a looming sense of dread pointed to the growing power of the dark side; some Jedi suggested that the Sith had returned, while others—maintaining that the Sith were extinct—dismissed this notion. But as time passed without any indication of Sith activity, the Jedi Master Yoda proposed that the gathering darkness was a sign of the coming fulfillment of the prophecy of the Chosen One. According to Master Yoda via the Great Holocron: Fully defeated by just anyone, the dark side cannot be, but only by the Chosen One. And who might be this Jedi? Know I do not, but not yet born is he or she. This much, sense I can. A vessel of pure Force the Chosen One will be, more powerful than any Jedi in history. [Ryder’s Windham’s Jedi vs. Sith: The Essential Guide to the Force ]

Another man—even another Jedi—might have resented the rebuke, but Obi-Wan only sighed. “I suppose—he is the chosen one, after all. The prophecy says he was born to bring balance to the Force, but …” The words trailed off. He couldn’t remember what he’d been about to say. All he could remember was the look on Anakin’s face. “Yes. Always in motion, the future is.” Yoda lifted his head and his eyes narrowed to thoughtful slits. “And the prophecy, misread it could have been.” [Matthew Stover. Revenge of the Sith]

She blinked as though he’d slapped her. “Why—that seems … unlikely, doesn’t it? What about this prophecy the Jedi put so much faith in? Isn’t he the chosen one?” “Very probably. But I have scanned this prophecy; it says only that a chosen one will be born and bring balance to the Force; nowhere does it say he has to be a Jedi.” She blinked harder, fighting down a surge of desperate hope that left her breathless. “He doesn’t have to—?” “My Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, believed that it was the will of the Force that Anakin should be trained as a Jedi—and we all have a certain, oh, I suppose you could call it a Jedi-centric bias. It is a Jedi prophecy, after all.” [Matthew Stover. Revenge of the Sith]

They knew very little of the prophecy but they *assumed* the chosen one had to be a powerful Jedi and that his role was to defeat the Sith. They didn’t know fro sure what the prophecy said about what balance meant or that this chosen one had to be ONLY a Jedi. but, because they couldn’t fathom the possibility of someone who isn’t a Jedi defeating the Sith, the moment Anakin stopped being a Jedi they automatically dismissed him as the Chosen one in favor of Luke. of course, that doesn’t mean Anakin stopped being the actual Chosen One.

The Balance:

If good and evil are mixed things become blurred - there is nothing between good and evil, everything is grey. In each of us we have balanced these emotions, and in the Star Wars saga the most important point is balance, balance between everything. It is dangerous to lose this.” George Lucas

The one thing everyone seemed to agree on was that the Chosen One was to bring balance but what was balance? It wasn’t 2 Sith//2 Jedi. It wasn’t a world free of evil or conflict. It was a world where good and evil could coexist without one or the other trying to dominate the Force. It wasn’t political, it wasn’t about ending wars and religious/political groups. The balance was about the Force and in this case the Sith were the ones unbalancing the Force so the Chosen one’s job was to defeat the Sith.  

We know the Force was ‘unbalance’ by Plagueis and Palpatine’s experiments but ALSO by the Jedi Order’s inability/unwillingness to prevent the ever growing corrupting in the Senate and all the problems it caused in the rest of the galaxy Surprise and disbelief mingled in Sidious’s blue eyes. 

“The Force?” “Yes,” Plagueis said pensively. “But I failed to exercise due caution. As we attempt to wrest the powers of life and death from the Force, as we seek to tip the balance, the Force resists our efforts. Action and reaction, Sidious. Something akin to the laws of thermodynamics. I have been audacious, and the Force has tested me the way Tenebrous sought to. Midi-chlorians are not easily persuaded to execute the dictates of one newly initiated in the mysteries. The Force needs to be won over, especially in work that involves the dark side. It must be reassured that a Sith is capable of accepting authority. Otherwise it will thwart one’s intentions. It will engineer misfortune. It will strike back.” “The Maladians—” “Perhaps. But in any case this is why the Jedi Order has descended into decadence and is dragging the Republic down with it. Because the Jedi have lost the allegiance of the Force. Yes, their ability to draw energy from the Force continues, but their ability to use the Force has diminished. Each of their actions engenders an opposite, often unrecognized consequence that elevates those attuned to the dark side; that buoys the efforts of the Sith and increases our power. Yet our use of that power requires delicacy. We must be alert to moments when the light side falters and openings are created. Then, and only then—when all the conditions have been met—can we act without fear of meeting resistance or repercussion. “To say that the Force works in mysterious ways is to admit one’s ignorance, for any mystery can be solved through the application of knowledge and unrelenting effort. As we had our way with the Senate, and as we will soon have our way with the Republic and the Jedi, we will have our way with the Force.” [ James Luceno. Darth Plagueis]

Yoda’s reinforces this idea when he says their vision is clouded by the dark side. Everything is muddled so they can no longer see clearly. 

“The first film starts with the last age of the Republic; which is it’s getting tired, old, it’s getting corrupt. There’s the rise of the Sith, who are now becoming a force, and in the backdrop of this you have Anakin Skywalker: a young boy who’s destined to be a very significant player in bringing balance back to the Force and the Republic. George Lucas - from the American ANH VHS tape in the making of Episode II in the 2000 release.

To bring balance is to ‘clear’ the Force. It’s not about eradicating Sith or saving Jedi. The Force is beyond of that. the Chosen One’s job is about cleaning the slate clean, regardless of political agenda. Of course, it doesn’t mean the Jedi *had* to way. Anakin could and should’ve chosen a different path. Nothing was set in stone. but the path he did choose doesn’t mean he stopped being the chosen. The fact he accomplished his mission by making the worst possible choices doesn’t mean he didn’t accomplish his mission as the Chosen One. In the end Anakin’s saved the Jedi, destroyed the Sith and help restore the Republic. And with that, he restored the balance. It’s not about erasing what happened before it’s about making things better from that point on.

Anakin Skywalker

“What the whole story is about” is a mishmash of tales as old as tale-telling: A young boy, plucked from obscurity by elite beings who believe he is somehow blessed, who grows up under their wise tutelage, becomes corrupted by power and evil, and then must finally face his own son – equally trained, equally tempted – in a battle to the death. – George Lucas

Anakin was the chosen but the world of around him didn’t protect him and that influenced his behavior. Anakin didn’t made bad choices because he was born a bad person, he made bad choices because of how he was raised and everything that happened to him. it has nothing to do with his chosen one status. Anakin was born because of the Force but it had no control over how people treated him and how he reacted to their treatment. Everyone had free will, everyone used it and things happened as they did. It’s as true for Anakin as it’s for every other kid in world. The fact a child shows promise doesn’t mean the child shouldn’t be protected and raised right. and if the kid does grow up to do bad things it doesn’t mean the kid never had any talent. 

Also, the prophecy doesn’t say Chosen One had to do anything out of the goodness of his heart. He had to bring balance. How and why he’d accomplished that wasn’t set in stone. The fact Anakin sacrificed himself to save his son doesn’t mean Anakin didn’t save the galaxy. I’d even argue that Anakin’s sacrifice wasn’t selfish. The fact he was thinking about his son doesn’t mean he was only thinking about himself. Personal sacrifice, by definition, is not a selfish act. It doesn’t mean the person is wholly selfless but the act itself is not a selfish one.

TL;DR:

The force wasn’t out of balance because the Sith were evil, because the Jedi were killed or because innocents were dying. People have been killing each other for thousands of years before the Force was considered ‘out of balance’. What changed was the Sith experimenting with it and the Jedi’s withdrawal from the galaxy. To correct that the Force created a child that would eventually fixed that. the child was called Anakin Skywalker and he corrected the situation by destroying the Sith, ensuring the survival of a new and better kind of Jedi and by ending a war that would lead to a creation of new, less corrupt government safe from the influence of the dark side.

So, yeah, Anakin was always the chosen one even when he was Darth Vader and George’s claims are backed by the lore :)

[teacherunicorn]

Delores Theadosia Hargreeves

Chapter Fifteen

Italics = memories

@tomisbaeholland

A/N: I am aware of Elliot Page coming out as transgender and am fully supportive of it. With the future of his character still in the wind however, I will be using she/her pronouns for Vanya for my writings at least for the time being. If rumors are true and the character will be transitioning as well, I will wrap it into my story accordingly. For now, I'm just following the plot of season one.

Diego was one of two Hargreeves children left in the city, and was the first to arrive back at the manor. The place had always been too big for comfort, but it still seemed strange seeing it so empty.

Not for the first time, he wondered what Delores' life here had been like before they'd come into it.

Traditionally, boxing was a more serious sport. The kind that attracted harsher people, under the counter bets and the like. Then again, Delores Theadoisa Hargreeves had never been traditional.

She stood just outside the fighting ring jumping up and down, and waving a handmade sign over her head. "Go Diego! Boo everyone else!"

Diego's opponent of the night; a burly man with full sleeve tattoos, looked between him and the tiny blonde.

"Your girl's got a lotta faith in ya."

Diego smiled but didn't drop his guard. "Wouldn't wanna disappoint." he said before throwing a heavy right hook into the man's jaw.

“Diego my boy.” Pogo’s voice broke him from his memories. “Good to see you.”

“Hey Pogo.” Diego smiled and hugged the chimp. “Anyone else turn up yet?”

“You are the first, but I expect your siblings shall be along shortly.”

“Delores?”

“The news got to her rather late, but she assured me she’d be on the first available plane.” Pogo informed. “Till then, she’s tasked me with keeping the rest of you in line.”

Number Two laughed. “Yeah, good luck.”

******

Next to arrive was Alison. Getting the news about Reginald’s death via paparazzi hadn’t been pretty, and frankly if it hadn’t gone down that way she probably wouldn’t have come. She had enough of her plate as it was.

“Onward to desert!” Delores ran across the large backyard, a then one year old Claire ridding piggyback. Patrick, who had been manning the grill for the barbecue, laughed and held the package of oreos over their heads. He was taller than Delores, so even with Claire on her back they couldn’t reach them.

Things had been a lot simpler when ‘Gammy Lori’ could be called any hour of the day. Having raised seven kids, Delores was much more capable of dealing with Claire than Alison was. It was hard sometimes not to take advantage of that.

It was even harder to stand by the lessons Delores had taught her and not take the easy way out.

“I want Gammy Lori!” a three year old Claire whined.

“Gammy Lori is working sweetie. She’s in Pennsylvania.”

“Where’s that?”

“A really long way away.”

“Can we go get her?”

“No, we can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s busy.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s very smart and works with smart people.”

“Why?”

“I heard a rumor that you stopped whining.”

******

Klaus tumbled in through one of the back doors and was immediately skimming the place for valuables.

"Really?" Ben's spirit said over his shoulder. "Didn't you tell Dede you'd keep at least a two month period between troubles with the law?"

"Hey, it's not like the old man is around to report anything stolen anymore. "God knows DT isn't gonna miss any of it; she hates this gaudy shit."

Every remaining member of the Umbrella Academy had a key to Delores' condo in the city. As such, it wasn't uncommon for her to come home to find one of them on her couch.

It was usually Klaus.

Number Four groaned as he blinked back to consciousness. His blurry vision focused in on the figure sitting on the coffee table. "Oh, hey DT. How long have you been here?"

"Couple hours. I came to check if you were alive again. You've been kinda in and out." While she didn't approve of Klaus' drug habits, Delores was the only one -- apart from Ben -- who understood why he had them.

"I didn't say anything stupid, did I?"

"You don't need drugs for that, Klausy."

"She's right, you know." Ben chimed from where he leaned against the couch's armrest.

Klaus threw a glare at the spirit over his shoulder before turning back to his caretaker. "Sorry, shady asshole must've mixed something in with the product. It's usually not that heavy...."

"Haven't I told you stay away from those types?"

"Com'on DT, I am one of those types!"

"Those are the rock bottom types that end up in a ditch somewhere." Delores flicked him in the head, making him wince as she rattled his hangover.

"Thank you!" Ben exclaimed.

"The type that don't have their big sister to push them into rehab. Speaking of, didn't you just get out of it like a week ago?" She continued, unaware that Number Six was even there.

"Maybe...." Klaus muttered. "But I'm not really the cold turkey type; you know that."

"There has to be something better." Delores sighed. "If you would stick around for more than a few days sleeping off a bender, you and I could figure it out! I've been riddling out your powers since you were born."

"No." Klaus said firmly. "Alright, I may be a deadbeat addict, but you are the one person who I refuse to mooch off of."

"Klausy --"

"Klaus --"

"Non!" He cut off both of them. "It took you way to long to get out from under dad's ass. You've finally got a life for yourself! Majority rules; you were out voted. No more mother henning!"

*******

Having the furthest to travel, it wasn't surprising that Luther arrived late to the mansion.

He had been the last of the Umbrella Academy, chasing the heroics dream Reginald kept feeding him. He and Delores had gotten into more than one argument regarding this, but she had always been there when he really needed her, wether she was angry with him or not.

Unfortunately, he had been out voted and she had left too.

Logically he knew it was good for her. She sounded so much happier on the phone than she had living here. The stubborn part of him that believed in the Academy's roles however knew her place was with them, even if they weren't kids anymore.

Delores hadn't been informed of his mission gone awry; his near death experience, what had brought him back, and the side effects of it. Reginald had done something or another to keep that out of the media, and Luther himself certainly wasn't looking to tell her.

The real kicker had been the moon mission. Reginald had sprung it on him so suddenly that he hadn't had the chance to call Delores beforehand.

He stood hunched in the doorway of her old room, eyes drifting over the relics she had left behind. Since Delores traveled so much, she hadn't taken everything with her when she first left. The majority of her things were now in her condo in the city, but there were still a few dusty pictures on the walls.

Moving forward caused his fingers to brush against the scritches on the doorway. Carved into the wood with one of Diego's knives were a series of dashes and dates marking the life of the Umbrella Academy.

Luther strained to stretch as straight as he could, resisting the urge to get on his tiptoes. He'd tried sneaking that past Delores and she'd smacked his head with the ruler.

The flat of a blade cut into the wood behind him and he immediately jumped forward to see her scratching the day's date next to it with a practiced hand.

"So?" He asked eagerly.

"Hmm." Delores held the ruler between an older mark and the mark she'd just made. "One and a half inches."

"Yes! I'm still the tallest!"

"Second tallest." Delores said, leaning her elbow atop his head.

"I told you to stop doing that!" He swatted at her, taking a step back to be out of reach.

"But you make such a good armrest!"

"Just you wait Dee; some day I'm gonna be even taller than you and you'll be the armrest!"

"Whatever you say squirt."

*******

Hesitant to come at all, Vanya was the last of the siblings to walk through the front door.

Ever quiet as a mouse, she stepped into the entry hall in near silence. Her sister was less so however.

"Vanya." Alison said in surprise as she came through the doorway of the living room. "You came."

"Hey Allison." Vanya smiled and accepted the hug offered to her.

Her flicker of confidence evaporated when Diego walked through the room and glared at her. "What's she doing here? You don't belong here, not after what you did."

"Diego now is not the time for fighting. And way to dress for the occasion by the way!" Alison called to his retreating back.

"At least I'm wearing black!"

"H-He's right, I shouldn't be here..." Vanya shook her head, wondering why she'd bothered. It wasn't like Delores would leave the country again without coming to see her -- she was the only family member who was still talking to her after all.

"No, hey." Alison cut her off. "I want you here."

The smile Vanya gave her sister was small and somewhat forced. The sentiment was kind, but patronizing. Everyone had been mad at her after her book had been published; even Delores.

Vanya unlocked her apartment door and jumped out of her skin at the sight of Delores sitting on her couch. She shouldn't be surprised at this point really, the older woman had mad it a habit since she'd been given a key.

"You should have locks on your windows." the caretaker commented idly.

"I live on the second floor."

"Rapist can climb."

"You are so weird." Vanya shook her head as she locked the door behind her.

"Oh now that's a simpleton word. You got much more creative as I recall. What was it? Apathetic, obtuse, and desperate to keep control?"

"M-my editor didn't like me making you a good guy when everyone else --"

"Oh will get to everyone else; you had no right to say what you did about them either. Airing out the dirty laundry for all to see....I'm really disappointed in you, Vanya."

*******

Vanya was the last of the Hargreeves siblings to walk through the front door, but certainly not the last to arrive.

After a very tense conversation about their father's death -- Luther was convinced it was murder, and while he didn't accuse anyone outright it was clear he didn't put it past them.

Everyone had split off to different areas of the house, and Luther thumbed through the records on the shelf in his room. The group really didn't do well as a group without Delores, but maybe he could at least minimize the hostility while they waited for her.

Finding the one he was looking for, he set it onto the player and turned the volume up as high as it would go. Soon enough, Delores' favorite song was echoing through the manor halls.

I think we're alone now

There doesn't seem to be anyone around

I think we're alone now

Alone now

The beating of our hearts is the onl-

The music was cut off rather abruptly as the walls and floor began to shake. Everything metallic went flying, and a large wave of something was glowing a familiar blue color in the backyard.

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