#that he deserves a life after (before out never should've gone in the first place into) the games more than katniss

[just-some-friendly-fun]

✦ ᴀ ɴᴀᴍᴇʟᴇꜱꜱ ɢʀᴀᴠᴇ

: ̗̀➛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ #: ᴏɴᴇ-ꜱʜᴏᴛ (OC x Canon)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: The days that follow after the dawning truth that befell Iacon, and the waste that had been laid as a result of the new leaders of Autobots and Decepticons have now stirred a mutlitude of reactions amidst the people of Iacon. Some feel betrayed and others angry over the lies they'd been fed their whole lives, and even some stir in denial as a result of their false Prime and all he'd done... While others bear a more personal wound after his termination.

■ ᴛᴀɢꜱ/ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: HUGE TF: One Movie Spoiler!! Major Character Death, Angst, Hurt, Character Grieving Over a Character's Death, Graphic Violence (Gore), Assault (someone gets a bottle thrown at them), Sentinel Prime & D-16 Megatron are mentioned, but only appear in flashbacks.

✎ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6,869

ׂ╰┈➤ A/N (if needed): Felt like putting one of my OCs into the emotional meat-grinder for fun, and also I'll post a song that I listened to while writing these, because yanno. Also, if I do need to tag anything else please lmk. This is sort of my rough first-time posting smthn like this, so lmk what you think!

▶︎ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: ᴍᴏʀᴀʟ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ - ᴀꜱʜᴇ

Three.

Weeks.

It had been nearly three weeks

Three weeks since the fall of Sentinel, when he had finally been shot down for flying too high where he should've never gone in the first place, and ended up crashing violently back onto Cybertronian soils as his plummet burned him alive and seared his frame.

Seared every part of his legacy, his influence.

His reputation and face once so boldly plastered onto every wall and holographic transmission, now torn down by servos once so welcoming and worshipping of their false God... Now turned to claws that dug angrily to tear off his face, his mark on Iacon, his history.

And maybe it was all deserved in the end, it really was--some way or other.

Memories of the day arrived in a constant fold, time and time again, washing over what little peace she had since the loss. It would often come to tear at her again when she had thought too much--and far too long on it, more than she was willing to admit.

Sunblitz wished she never did think on it sometimes, wished she hadn't been there during the execution, wishing that she didn't have the exact front row seats to his public execution that never stopped to remind her day in and out on what the color of Sentinel's frame looked like when his t-cog was torn out from him.

Or was it ever really his t-cog to begin with?...

Sunblitz's talons dragged further into her berth as it let out a weak scream from the metal to metal contact. Her pain bleeding into the desire to hurt what couldn't speak. To destroy something when her entire life had been practically wrecked in itself, the fault befitting more to the cup of her servos than any other.

She closed her optics and rendered herself locked in her own berth, her coffin of sorts, and waited for the rust to settle in, beginning first where her spark laid beating still--painfully so.

The flier tried to keep her optics shut tight, before re-opening them again, then closed, then open, a constant dance out of the darkness casted by her eyelids and to the shadows she casted over herself as she hid from the world beneath a tarp.

She was trying to furiously eradicate the memory from her processor core manually, time and time again as she writhed uncomfortably, merely pushing the recollection back only for it to have struck her back harder, running away and only to be captured and let go again.

✦ ✦ ✦

"No!.. No--!! Please! Please! Stop! Stop!" Sunblitz screamed, helplessly dragging herself on the floor, claws reaching to the open air as several of the golden death trackers and guards lay beside her in a heaping mess. Each of the polished plating reflected the appearance of her dreadful look as coolant furiously spilt from her faceplate to follow the tear-like designs already pre-made upon her looks, now giving them a real purpose, to no longer imitate for the sake of art.

Pain gripped at her very frame, seeping into the wires and plaguing her systems with a hot sensation that made it unbearable. She could feel the shock settling in as she pushed herself across the ground with the exposed axis of her legs, the exposed wires trailing along. She choked back a cry with every time the raw wound touched to the ground. Her legs were strewn about elsewhere by the hands of D-16, a cost of her duty--but by accordance to his views, a cost for intervening in this public execution.

No.

Not D-16.

Something far worse than Sentinel could've ever been in her optics. By the hands of a--a monster in his place.

She crawled pathetically with desperation, the pain of her missing legs searing through her sensors with every drag as she pathetically moved with desperation to stop D-16 while he lifted Sentinel into the air for all of Cybertron to see.

This wasn't how things were supposed to go... This shouldn't end like this.

"No..! No!! No--Please!!" Her voice rang shrill, a shattering pitch that went unheard. Sentinel was lifted higher and higher, the Prime's mouth agape once the silver mech behind him began to fasten his grip around one half of his body and then the other before a loud, sickening wail of stretched metal sounded in the air, slow and torturous.

"STOP!--"

A cacophony of limbs, wiring, and steel flesh began to split as the city of Iacon fell first to hearing Sentinel's choked screams of agony, followed by bloodlust-filled hollers and cheers below somewhere amidst the exiled. His helm tilted further back, his servos unable to stop himself from breaking into two as he was split apart by servos fueled with rage. This was the end.

Her optics had met to his, and every part of her screamed in her mind--get up!

GET.

UP.

But the painful truth took hold to her. She wasn't going to make it. She couldn't do a thing in this state but watch, helplessly with her optics torn wide open to remember this moment vividly, for the rest of her life. She should've looked away, saved herself the addition of another drowning tidal wave of pain until, for the briefest moment Sentinel had left, he spoke up, and out rolled a final lie to the world, to her.

"It's... Alright-" He choked, ".. It's gonna be okay-"

His words no longer existed, cut short, and abrupt, followed by a crash of metal and snapping circuitry, and wires that filled the air. It was still day and yet with every spark that flew across her vision and crackle of electricity, for a moment. She thought she was seeing the stars to the universe die out.

And then, she was no longer looking at optics lit with life anymore, as his body--a part of it-- fell before her and it took...

One.

Two.

Three flickers.

Before the rings in the lens of his optical receptors went out one by one, until he had finally been rid from the world, lips parted in a silent scream that Sunblitz herself couldn't have voiced for him as her vocalizer had been strained to its limit, leaving every choked cry to befell her to become agonizing.

Even when his death wasn't enough. Sunblitz lifted her helm to watch while Megatron proceeded forth, unsatisfied yet of his slaughter. He began to reach down, tearing open the chassis and into the chest cavity again to feast upon the rewards that lie waiting for him. Sentinel Prime was soon desecrated, robbed of the very thing he stole from another, Megatronus' t-cog now befitting to the new brutal revolutionist who preached to his followers below.

Her spark hammered against her chassis, the echo ringing in her audial receptors at the sight and she felt a stinging urge in the back of her throat to throw up, force everything out as her tears were the first to begin spilling from her in rapid streams. In her last morsels of strength, she crept forward, sliding close enough to pull what remained back to her, and to reap the scavenged remains, holding close while it was already beginning to dim into a cold, gray design. She held to his body, offering a warmth that was meaningless, pleas left unheard, gripping to it.

Sunblitz sobbed into the side of his helm and lifted it carefully off the floor and laid it against her, to find some meaning to the weight and to trick herself into believing, despite the odds, he was alive... Even for a moment, shredding her sense of reality just for a droplet of delusions. It didn't help when the weight had grown a smidgen lighter, cold.

She didn't know what compelled her to say it, but as her spark began to wring itself dry from the twisting threads of her own emotions, she spoke up.

"Don't... Don't you dare leave me like this, Sentinel Prime..." She silently sobbed, "Don't you dare... Go," Before burying her faceplate into the crook of his neck.

✦ ✦ ✦

An abrupt knocking came at the door, violently yanking Sunblitz from the cycle of pain Sunblitz had thrown herself within as she pushed up to her knees, her fore-helm against the berth. She waited.

"Sunblitz. Open up. You can't stay in there forever,"

At the voice of her carrier, Sunblitz shifted further into the blankets as if to hide from an unseen gaze. She was beginning to feel the tarp she concealed herself with grow taut against her wings. It tangled and snagged onto several nooks and crannies along her frame. A soft creak of her body became her only response, and in turn, another knock came harder than the last.

"Sunblitz." Voltcharge began, and from there. Voltcharge didn't have to start any further on her lectures or demands.

Sunblitz knew better.

So, with aching resistance, she slowly untangled herself and yanked on the tarp, attempting to throw it off of her frame but only stopped from her harsh throws and pulls once it snagged sharply on the parts between her arms and wings. A trickling sensation of pain seeped with the tight lock she found herself in, forcing her to halt abruptly.

She grimaced, forced to be gentle to herself as she searched her frame for the snag, and slowly unloosened the tangled tarp from the space in-between her gears, before resuming. Her fight became a loss. Her optical receptors slowly adjusted to the dark silhouette of her room, only illuminated by the slight crack that remained ajar by the curtain-covered glass wall that led out to the balcony of her room. She stepped out of her berth, and let out a ragged sigh, breathing in and out to make sure her vocalizer hadn't strained itself too much from the countless hours she spent in her vulnerability, wondering if the walls had been thick enough to conceal and keep her secrets in.

She hoped they were.

Heavy trudges answered to the door, she swiped her face-plate and reached for the input pad of her door, slipping the code with a few clicks of the keys before she came face to face with the older femme beyond, and a tray full of energon cubes stacked into a loosely designed pyramid, with a few blocks here and there led astray from the initial concept clearly. Sunblitz glanced at the appeasement gift, then to the older femme.

Voltcharge's audial finial twitched, and she slowly offered the tray forth, serving to her first patron of the day.

For a moment, Sunblitz eyed at the cubes, and then back up to Voltcharge in silent questioning, her vocalizer unfit to produce any real words just yet before the silent exchange ended with a sigh.

The older femme re-adjusted the positioning of her hold on the tray and spoke up, plucking a cube from the arrangement, "Might've over done it a little but... You skipped on refueling hours quite a bit ago, I thought I'd bring extra," She expressed, explaining to the design as it left Sunblitz to huff.

"... I don't need it," She said, internally cursing as her words began to drag with a prominent rasp.

Her carrier was immediate to the slight catch in her throat and the voice Sunblitz carried, before she spit-fired back a solemn response, "Like slag you don't," Before visibly liftening her sharpened optical ridges and softening her gaze. She bit down her glossa for coming off too strongly and to make up for it, a quiet "sorry" escaped her and she shifted her placement beneath the tray again, to selected one of the Energon cubes. She plucked to one of the cubes, the one from the very top now lying at the bottom of Sunblitz's outstretched hand, "... Just, take one, at least. You can't keep neglecting your health like this," Voltcharge spoke, with a touch of concern in her voice, her optics dimming to a pleading look.

By way of her weakened state and inability to deny the truth, Sunblitz couldn't help but begrudgingly sigh. She to the cube, placing it on her glossa as the conveyer-portion of it began to coax the cube into the back of her mouth and she proceeded to consume it under Voltcharge's careful gaze until it let up.

The older femme sighed with relief and her sharp gaze dulled to a passive look, her optics adjusting and brightening as she nodded at her eldest's compliance before walking off.

She paused briefly in her strides to look back at Sunblitz, tilting her helm in gesture once she noticed Sunblitz hadn't followed, "C'mon, come downstairs and help me get The Rewind up and at 'em, hm?"

Sunblitz huffed, "What's the point?..." Sunblitz remarked, Nobody's going to be coming here not after..." She trailed off, and pursed her lips, the fresh memories arising once again and making the sweet aftertaste of Energon on her tongue go sour while she gazed on to her carrier.

Voltcharge stared on and, she responded, offering Sunblitz another cube from the tray to goad her out of her room. Reluctantly, Sunblitz followed to pick up another Energon cube, and then down the stairs went Voltcharge who spoke between every step, "... It still doesn't hurt to keep it open for the people that still need this place. A place to come down to and rest, have a drink or two after everything," She advised. "The people need it. They deserve it,"

At that, Sunblitz couldn't deny the older femme's reasonableness on the matter. The idea of keeping The Rewind opened right after felt at some ways... Capitalizing off the conflicts as of late, but with the intentions her creator carried, it sways the thought.

Yet even then, Sunblitz wondered if the same could be said for her--whether the resolution would be just that simple, or enough. Her own mind felt like a mess, a steaming, hot pile of burning slag that not a cup of high-grade could fix or extinguish. Either way, she shook her helm to push her problems aside and followed dutifully after, syncing her steps to Voltcharge's,

"... Fine,"

✦ ✦ ✦

Slowly, but surely, Sunblitz had resumed to aiding Voltcharge in setting up the establishment, the floors were cleaned, booths and tables polished, and inventory stock was checked, and so on to make the space cleaned up just right to keep the welcoming atmosphere hanging. A few customers had arrived in soon, not many clearly as she noticed that some hung outside the entry point, some merely turning away when they caught glimpse of Sunblitz to mumble something beneath their breath.

She pursed her lips at the hateful gazes that came and go, but she didn't necessarily point and blame them for it, not after everything.

She looked back into the rest of the establishment after giving the bar top a firm wipe-down. The place was nearly desolate, mind a few customers here and there that laid in the far corners, drinking themselves silly and having a good cry into their mugs. Others had finally gotten some shut eye, slumped in booths and tables--only finding rest when the drinks had pushed and encouraged for them to submit to the need for recharge, ending their days of neglect for rest or previous inability to.

No words were spoken amongst what remained of her family, as she looked around. Voltcharge was working behind the countertop as usual, having wiped clean the same glass when all others were already accounted for, and Razorcase was helping check up on the generators and other technical areas of the bar--trying to keep his own servos busy to occupy his mind from the messy days. At some extent, Sunblitz had even begun to wonder how her other sisters were holding up after the mess... Or at least one of them, no... Both.

She didn't even want to think of it like that, and regardless she did, now her attentions lingering on the thought of Silversong, and how she was doing since her body was... Recovered from the rubble.

Her tank began to coil uncomfortably again while she gripped the microfiber rag and to the shelf she was cleaning now, her claws lightly digging into the material of the furtniture.

Silversong had known to D-16 far longer than Sunblitz ever did, and she almost wondered whether somehow or other if Silversong had any part to the slag-show that resulted in all of this. And even without the role for causation, she almost wondered if Silversong did anything to stop that monster from becoming who he was and-

She stopped, her servo gripping fiercely into the steel shelf, nearly leaving indentations to the edges. The teeth of her digits had carved up the paint and material, dirtying the golden tips.

Sunblitz stared for a long moment, peeling her hand back and removing the rag from the shelf to clean off the evidence from her talons before deeply sighing. I need to get out of here, she thought, internally fearful of harming something else now while in her moments. She abandoned from her post from behind the countertop, throwing the rag loosely onto the flat of the table as she passed by her carrier in a speed-walking motion, catching their optic..

"Where are you going, Sunblitz?" .

Sunblitz continued her strides, slowing them down a step to speak rather than abandoning to Voltcharge's inquiries completely, "... To... Somewhere, I guess to uh. To get my processor off of things, y'know?" She remarked, trying to keep casual, extremely eager to leave.

"Do you need me to come along with you?-"

"No!" She abruptly began, like an uncontrolled blast from a gun, her words came out too sudden, too explosive than she would've liked-- which now left her patting out the flames of where her words ended up striking, looking to the surprised bartender, as guilt briefly glimmered in her optics.

Sunblitz cleared her throat "No--I mean, it's... Fine. I..." She waved a dismissive servo, averting her gaze, "I think--I'd like to go alone," She said.

After a moment of awkward silence, she slowly pivoted on her heel and pushed to moving towards the door again"... I-I'll be back soon, I promise,"

"Alright but, stay safe out there," The older femme resumed, and just as Sunblitz prepared to leave the establishment, she freezed at Voltcharge's next remark, morally obligated to stop and go like a delayed clock--uneven in its ticking and pace.

"-And you know you can always talk to me, right?" Voltcharge hummed, "Or Razorcase or even..." She froze mid-gesture, her own words now carrying too short and dropping like a dead fly.

She had trailed off, and Sunblitz had already known painfully too well what she was intending to say.

Your sisters.

But that option wouldn't be available at this moment, not with the current state of things as it almost made her scoff at the thought. Silversong was the last person she wanted to talk to right now, yet the only one she felt tempted to reach to, to demand answers even if it meant to grip to her unconscious form and to scream at her from there, to ask what had happened when she had disappeared off with the group of miners and came back to all this. And as for Hightop? Primus knows where she's gone since all that had happened, having remained holed up in her room from time to time or either gone elsewhere.

Her family was currently a mess of itself, so to her. It only felt right to leave and find her own space rather than rely to her closest ties--not while they were like this--a conflicting tangled web of lies, and mistrust, uncertainty and cluelessness, to put it crudely.

"Yeah. I know," She said, more lenient to brushing off the offering more than anything to seek her own methods of peace. She began to resume her trek, looking to her side and reached out as she took to an abandoned bottle of cheap high-grade left behind by some sap she remember slumped here from yesterday. Before waving out at the door, "I'll see you soon, Voltcharge,"

With that, she bid farewell and shortly departed, having felt the set of concerned optics burn into her back, attempting to shrug it off as she disappeared out the doorway.

✦ ✦ ✦

"... Dirty traitor!"

"Lowly scum bag!"

"Wasn't it your job to protect us!?"

"Slagger!"

Sunblitz raised her forearm as a glass bottle crashed against her plating, wincing. Her forearm shielded herself from the shards that flew explosively in their own web of directions, fortunately none having entered in places she didn't want them to.

She opened up her optics devoid of glass--and made sure to keep them that way while she hurried off before another bottle could be thrown at her, narrowly missing her helm and into the wall she darted past.

The barrage of hostile messages barely relented with each step, wondering whether she should've just changed her passage route as it was beginning to become slowly more populated with bots who saw to her and thought,

"Now there's an outlet we can use. There's the one who was apart of this mess,"

Damn it all, she thought as she dodged poorly to a thrown can that nearly caused her to trip.

The group of various bots she had passed began to raise their volume with each advancement she made while walking away, wanting to remind her of her past with every opportunity they still had in her presence.

Sunblitz knew that she could've flown here, made it easier for herself had she taken to the skies but there was no longer any pride for her gift of wings. At the very moment, most fliers weren't regarded very well, considering that most of the fliers that once made up the population of Iacon were associated one way or another with Sentinel, some thought back to either the ex-High Guard, and Sentinel's personnel, now turned Decepticons or either dead.

Even if she did take the option, she couldn't put much trust that it'd be a smooth sailing without someone deciding to take her down from the skies with just one very accurate and emotionally driven throw of a tool or some other, so for now. She dismissed the thought and forced herself down this walk of shame, venturing on and taking to the strikes of cans against the helm, sheet metal and anything else that proved to be a rather effective tool to remind her of her regrets and faults for ever associating so closely with Sentinel Prime.

She wondered if he'd be even laughing or pitying her from where he stood in the afterlife by now.

Down the streets she went, down every road, and path. Her pede followed to very calculated steps, an internal route that she had followed time and time again to visit to the one place where she'd be able to find some quiet to herself... The one place where she truly could speak to someone freely without interruption.

She turned up around a corner and glanced around for a moment, having drawn out on the farther side of Iacon city down at the outskirts. She sighed, and trudged up to a particular space, twisting to one more corner, down a flight of short stairs.... And there, she found herself face to face with Sentinel Prime.

...

Or what was left of him really.

The intricate statue that remained of his head had been worn out, cracked in the side of the helm where it had its first taste of concrete after several of the miners down in the center of Iacon took it down from its shiny pedestal, the only recoverable part she could find in the mess of broken pieces of his limb and bod.

His faceplate adorned to smears, and scars, littered in desecration that aimed to ruin everything he found so perfect in himself. His jaw had been broken off too, ironic, to say the least--perhaps for the sake that he could tell no more lies. Even in this petrified yet solemn expression.

Beside it, there was his wings--his actual wings--clipped from the scene during his fight with Megatron. She even wondered how she had managed to find these in rather adequate condition, after her recovery, and after her makeshift trials with the new leader, Optimus Prime. She had initially suspected that someone would've at least made a grab for them to destroy and throw away or some other. Yet it didn't feel so much as a lucky find and more of a dreadful discovery that some part of him survived when the rest hadn't.

It was the only thing she had left of Sentinel to remember of him, not that he had deserved much of a proper memorial in the eyes of the people who once adored him.

Sunblitz almost wondered what they had already done to the rest of his frame already, probably melted it down into slag and then thrown away to be turned into garbage, some sort of tragic cycle of being used to be rendered useless again, or perhaps turned into something undignified, a crude design of his visage to remind all of Iacon the liar that had been plaguing their government for years... Or maybe her processor was all too forgiving, too kind, and uncreative at the moment to really wonder what happened and what they'd done to it, because most certainly, she knew that Iacon bore no kindness for being played like fools, nobody would.

Regardless, she took to the one thing she had left and properly arranged to the space again as it had come undone since her time away, keeping everything into place. His helm laid at the foot of a piece of debris, chipped poorly to make for a headstone. His wings leaned against the side of it, folded on the other instead of displaying proudly.

His name was once etched on the stone but became desecrated by her own golden talons, for the better--she thought. Otherwise, had anybody found the space she had been visiting to, Sunblitz was most definitely certain they would've just destroyed it completely, to purge Iacon of the traitorous figure.

The flier eventually settled, only after scarring to the stone obelisk again, making her... Seventh notch in the material before sitting down in front of it where she could face the decapitated stone helm.

She watched it, as it watched her, and with a deep sigh. She pushed out her first words to the open air,

"Hey," She greeted, with no mirth, and nothing short of forced casualty.

...

Silence.

As to be expected.

...

She slowly clenched her digits close and parted her lips, ready to speak again until... All the words she had, mingled into something else altogether, her internal script becoming unwoven by the letter,

"I..."

Sunblitz took in another breath, her ventilators whirling as her processor tried to find something, to untangle the words and make this as clean as possible, gripping to the lower end of her facial plate.

It shouldn't have been this hard--she's done this before.

She was speaking to a rock for Primus' sake.

"I--hff." She huffed, and tried again and only embarrassed herself further when a choked noise escaped.

Primus, she looked insane.

"Ugh...Hhhgghh---!!! Frag. Frag it all I guess! Let's just. Let's just roll with the punches," She expressed, miserably reassuring herself as she threw out her desired, clean scripts out her mental window, doing it the way she's always done...

Not like the ways that she was once used to, no.

There were no more cleanliness to anything she did, she wasn't given that option anymore. Just a mess, of herself and--everything!

"Frag it--frag it all! I don't even know what the hell I'm even doing here, talking to this--talking to you--I look insane!" She exclaimed, judgmental of herself in every part when the figure before her wasn't even alive for her to blame.

Throwing her servos forward and glaring at the Sentinel helm, she huffed at its natural indifference, "Y'know what? I bet you're all up happy--happy and prancing about in the Allspark right now, all giddy and slaggin' gone stupid with joy that you didn't have to fight bolts and nails to prove your innocence, huh?! That you didn't have to be down here like all the rest of us facin' the consequences of your own actions!" Sunblitz breathed, her chassis rising and falling as her anger steadily rose with the silence from the stone, pinching the metal between her optical ridges.

She was right somewhere, this was stupid--let alone embarrassing to be talking to this inanimate object that looked like her last partner albeit bodyless...

and... Jawless... And lifeless.

But, damn if she did and damn if she didn't--whatever she was doing. It was working in getting her to talk and so she persisted, sighing and grabbing to the stone head, holding it close in hopes that it would help burn her out soon enough in her tangents and hopeless rants.

"You don't even KNOW how absolutely fraggin' grueling it's been bein' around here and cleaning up after you!" She hissed, "... Telling and begging all of Iacon to believe me--me! One of the very closest people to you--you, who had to go and blow up everythin', and make an absolute slag show out of this entire thing!" Sunblitz exclaimed, shaking her helm, "I--I honestly can't believe it! Do you even understand how terrible it was?! To be looked at and ridiculed, to no longer make people feel safe around you when you swore to protect them?!"

She almost felt like throwing the helm out of her lap. Her digits wrapped tightly around the sides, watching as the material cracked slightly, breaking under her harsh gaze and even harsher treatment.

Sunblitz forced herself to exude once again, some extent of restraint, not wanting to actually break him despite the temptations that lied in the back of her processor to do so, to take and find some peace in destruction, as she always did, be it on herself or something else.

She closed her optics again, gritting her dentas and sucking in a sharp breath--then carefully dropping the helm back onto foot of the obelisk to keep it away from her talons, scoffing at it instead.

Reeling in her anger, she found the strength to speak up once more when she had the coherency to, forcing herself to drop her dignity out so that her whirlpool of thoughts at the moment would be better balanced and given light of this opportunity. She doubted that she'd ever get the chance like this to speak to him, to argue like she used to, to hear his stupid voice, watch his face crack with bafflement at her defiance.

This was her taste of reprieve and for her alone, so she'd be sure to relish in every part of the taste of it,

"... All of Iacon's struggling to process what you did still, half the center of the city is wrecked and we've got new messes arriving soon. There's... There's Decepticons and Autobots now. And... And they're being lead by the miners that--- you messed up, the ones that.. You.. You tore out their transformation cogs from?!... I mean, who does that and... And you lied to me! You lied to me this entire time and kept it secret--from me!!" She pointed to herself.

The decapitated head only stared and continued to say nothing.

Sunblitz huffed and shook her helm, not even understanding why she was getting so worked up about this statue-head not reacting, not saying a word, blinking, anything--and yet she knew somewhere, that some other. It was the simple work of projection, forcing all her emotions onto this single, lone block of stone that made it real enough for her to converse with--or rather simply fill the silent space around with her voice. Every echo coming back in her own words felt just right enough to make up for a conversation, even if it felt a little mocking and uncomfortable.

She didn't know if that made her more of a fool to the fact that she tricked herself into believing just enough that this hunk of rocks was him, or the fact that it was working.

Her thoughts lingered and delved now that she was alone and face to face with him, some part that fooled her just enough.

She thought back and swam in her memories, no, not swam--she began to drown in them and her own doubts, sinking further into the spiraling whirlpool of her mind before, bobbing to the surface again with an unsteady realization, "...Primus, how long have you been lying to me? For how long did you keep up this facade?"

Silence.

"... Was there every any truth to anything you said...?" She muttered in disbelief.

The stone-head continued to keep quiet, lips permanently sealed, and in her dying hopes. She leaned back and steadily pressed her knees up to her chassis, crossing over her arms and glared to the rock before averting her gaze as she softened her voice, spitting out bitter words that hold no better heat than to a firecracker, "... And to think you had the audacity to lie to me, and promise me that it would be okay..." She scoffed, "... Was this your definition of it being 'okay' then?..."

...

Still, silence filled the air in place of his reply.

Her expression turned sour and she pursed her lips, faceplate scrunching up, "... You gave me a purpose here, a job, and somehow you ripped it away from me without having to do--anythin'. Now, the people of Iacon can't even look at me, because they think I'm just like you and... Airachnid--that I knew from the very beginning that you both were knee-deep in all this slaggin' mess... and don't even get me started on what they've got on with Airachnid now," She said, rolling her optics to the thought before glowering again.

Her gaze fell right back onto to the decapitated helm of Sentinel. She gripped her fists around air again and settled back into an uncomfortably bunched state, huffing as her wings drooped and she hid back behind the wall of her crossed arm to glare like a petulant child, the gaze giving away to a look of weariness, a flame in her eyes that should've been put out long ago,

"... I should feel lucky. In fact, I think you would've probably told me that I was lucky. Somehow or some other with that cocky, arrogance of yours somewhere." She said, "But I don't. I don't feel lucky. Between the three of us? And all that happened? ... I'm starting... To feel like you... You were the luckiest out of all three of us, Sentinel,"

She gripped her arms a little harder, bitter to the thought, "you got the easiest way out possible, while me and that bodyguard of yours had to suffer the collateral, and some of us--me, especially, and so many others, are now pickin' up after you, was this all really worth it?... Did all of this live up to your intended dreams caked in gold and all the finer things in life?!..." She near-shouted, before forcing herself to quell her anger by a smidgen, cutting off her volume first when she had heard pedes off in the distance down the alley walking by.

Her eyes widened, tucking herself further near to the tombstone close to the wall and kept quiet, silent and watchful until the silhouettes passed, keenly listening to the sounds of their steps

... Until silence became restored and she sat back with a relieved sigh, now solemnly glaring at the rock nearest to her lap before looking away when she had once again picked it up and carefully placed it into her folded legs,

"... Maybe she had already known this would happen, but me? I was the damned fool who knew nothin' of this..." She said, before something bit into her throat at the thought--the idea of being innocent and a victim--left a more burning flavor of disgust on her glossa than any of Cybertron's worse below-grade Energon could ever do, rephrasing,

"... No, I wasn't the damned fool who knew nothing... I knew something and felt too complacent to even think of sniffing around any further to see what kind of slag you were hidin' from me... From all of Iacon, from the world..." She rested a servo over his helm, and reluctantly dragged it to tilt his lifeless eyes up to her, by the chin.

"... If Primus had written your fate to be like... This? Then, by the Allspark, do I have some slaggin' criticism for his work," She said, trying to find something bitter to say but, all there was left in her internal storage now was just... Memories, both good and bad that she wanted to get off her chassis. The idea of something so sweet between brittle and sharp thorns of her mind was... Almost repulsive.

She reached back, and forced them out--like throwing out tchotchkes and toys she no longer needed or wanted, only to look back and wonder whether they still deserved to stay or to go

"... For a moment, and during the nights, I can't help but think... They were too easy on you, too merciful," She started up, outright blunt honesty as he would've expected from her, "... I sometimes think you should've been brought to justice, imprisoned, stripped of your wings, your power, somethin' more that I know would've hurt you more than what you got in the end... And sometimes, I can't believe I think that way now... Say things like that. It's like I'm right back to where I was the first few times I knew you... So hateful, and... Full of resentment," She crossed her arms over the top of his helm, bringing the rock close to her chassis, looking over it.

"Sometimes I wonder if I was even the first bot to have ever hated you when I came... What a privilege that would've been, hm? Someone original out of every copy here who said they 'loved' you,"

She sighed, "And now look at me." Sunblitz tilted the stone-head to face to her as she gently cupped the side of its face, the cold material leaving her to shudder as she narrowed her optics and lowered her helm.

Passing the weight out of her servos and back onto the ground, she stood up once more with a hardened expression, what softness lied now became suffocated, "... You are... One of the most downright, worst bots, I could have ever gotten the privilege to know... in this life cycle, and I..." She trailed, her servo wandering just short of the storage compartment to her forearm, taking out the extra company she brought with her in the form of a bottle of cheap high-grade, "...Honestly do not know... Or whether I ever truly knew... Whether I hated you or if I ever genuinely did... like you," She whispered the last half out, and sighed deeply.

Her index and thumb seized to the cork, twisting.

"... This one's for you, Sentinel,"

"pop!" went the plug, and out went the dark blue liquid. She took to a short sip of the bottle of processor-poison first, choking on the taste as she spilt the rest out over the rubble and mess that she called Sentinel's grave, sharing the awful drink out to her unresponsive partner. Her yellow optics dimmed to the lowest setting they'd been in since... Ever, watching as it spilled over and stained every part before becoming a pool on the ground that surrounded his helm like blood. Sunblitz watched until all of the contents slowly left the bottle and onto the crudely arranged headstone and for a moment. She observed to the waste.

It almost looks like his color, she thought, with pursed lips and a strain in her throat. Sunblitz cleared her vocalizer for the moment, trying to rid the bitter taste that lingered, looking to the headstone once more with a conflicted look that slowly gave away.

"... I hope you're happy with yourself from up there," She whispered, huffing as the bottle ran dry, before allowing it to slip from her fingers. It clattered onto the cold rubble where she knelt once more to come at eye-level to the stone, tracing her digits gingerly onto the engraved moniker, and her spark began to ache once more and twist itself painfully.

Blame it on the high-grade, she thought, blame it on the high-grade.

Before Sunblitz knew it, she held to the sides of the obelisk, and leaned her helm to it, a ragged sigh escaped and she breathed,

"I hate you..." She airily said, before allowing herself the moment of silence to pour out one last thing, suspecting that the poor high-grade pool beneath could use to a coolant finisher, as she softly breathed and wept against the monument in silence.

[marsreds]

y'all ever stay up at night thinking about how peeta and haymitch's relationship is slept on?

[wonderlandwalker]

He Knows Better | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: Finnick tells himself not to get close to you, because what is the point? But when you survive your games he finds that he can't stop thinking about you. When he finally comes to see you, you're in pieces, and he swears to himself he will put you back together, no matter the costs. Find part 2 here: Should've Known

Content Warnings/Tags: Mentions of prostitution/sex trafficking, angst, Finnick deserving better, crying, bad representation of a panic attack, not proofread

Word Count: 1.6k

Requested by Anon: I loveeeee love love love your Finnick fic. It was the perfect mix of sweet and so angstyyyyy !! I'm having constant Finnick brainrot 😭 I was wondering what you think about writing a finnick × reader fic sort of loosely based on Hozier's "It Will Come Back" where reader is maybe a tribute or another Victor and the first person to show Finnick softness and kindness without asking for anything in return in so long and he's like "dont let me in with no intention to keep me" and "dont be kind to me" and he just is totally feral and obsessed with the reader ? You're such a talented writer !! ❤️❤️❤️

A/N: There is this Dutch expression which goes ‘the monkey comes out of the sleeve’ loosely meaning the hidden meaning is revealed and I couldn't for the life of me think of the English equivalent that made sense to me, so, well, I hope the story is coherent. As usual, divider by @saradika

He remembers first seeing you, you were so young, but to be fair, so was he. In previous years he had always become quick friends with the tributes he was supposed to mentor, how could he not? But it didn't take him long to figure out that they never made it back, and while the company was nice for a while, the hurt in the end wasn't worth it anymore. There's something about you that he can't quite place, but it doesn't matter, because he's not going to get attached. When you first stepped into the training hall you didn't look scared, you didn't even look excited, no, you looked like you had made peace. 

He didn't get to talk to you much, you spend most of your training with Mags, not learning how to fight, but learning how to survive. And every time he watched you, he watched how your eyes lit up when learned how to filter water, he watched how proud Mags was of you each time. And he felt something tugging at him, he felt a need to get to know you. But he knew better.

Because what were the odds, he had seen this before, he had done this before. No, he shouldn't get attached to you. And yet, for the first time after returning from his own, he found himself watching the games. Watching the tributes become fewer and fewer, hoping, praying, that you'd make it through. The fewer left the more desperate he became. You've gotten this far, don't let the luck run out just yet. He saw how your last opponent fell, and he saw your face in the centre of the screen, of virtually every screen. And once again, you didn't look excited, you looked like you had found peace again, and maybe, just maybe, he let himself believe he could too, that you could show him. 

He didn’t go see you after, it wouldn't be of any use. What more did he have to offer you, you did not need a mentor anymore. He had made peace, he had made peace with never seeing you again. So what was the difference if you were alive or not? That's what he thought, if he gave in now, he didn't think he'd ever be able to let go, it would keep coming back. 

It wasn't until a few months later when someone knocked on his door, and in a sleepy haze, he opened it without thinking. He had spent the night at the capitol, and he never managed to get much rest after. Usually, when he had been gone for the night, Mags would come to check in on him, and have Valerian tea with him. He doubted it actually worked, but the effort was enough to brighten his day. So he opened the door, but it wasn't Mags, it was you. Your face was fuller, it had more colour, but the bags under your eyes were still there. Would Mags bring you Valerian tea as well? No, no he needed to stop thinking about you. The last time he had actually seen you was when you won. He had forced himself to avoid you ever since, he hadn't been completely sure why anymore, but now he knew again. The way you looked at him gave him hope, hope he couldn't afford. “What do you want” he asked, he sounded upset, and in a way he was, but the way the sparkle in your eyes dimmed made him regret it. 

And so he opened the door further, stepping aside, and you didn't need more of an invitation before you walked in. You took a seat at his small kitchen table, and he decided it would be impolite not to join you, so he sat down as well. He was about to talk, but you beat him to the punch.

“Snow came to see me.” There is was he thought, the reason, everyone always had a reason. Still, he found himself allowing you to continue, wanting to hear your voice again, even if it brought bad news. 

“I talked to Mags about it, but she said I should come see you, so here I am.” You chuckled, but the situation was not something that asked for it, must be nerves, he thought, but why were you nervous, surely he didn't make you nervous. 

“Look, I don’t want to bother you with my problems Finnick, I know you're dealing with enough yourself, but I don’t know what else to do.” Your eyes glossed over, and you looked like you were about to start crying, but you didn't. He wanted to say something, to comfort you, but what was there to say? And so you two sat in silence, he was looking at you, he was memorizing your face. This was the last time he would let himself see you. He didn't want to get close to you, and with how mesmerizing you were to him, he knew better.

And yet, as days passed, he found himself thinking of you. Whenever he needed comfort, he thought of you, the way you smiled at him when he told you a nervous joke. He could get lost in the memory of your eyes, and more often than not, he did. Every day he spent without seeing you made his heart hurt. 

Without thinking, he found himself walking to your door. It was like he wasn't in control of his own feet. He was in constant agony with himself. He wanted to be with you, but your kindness was one he couldn't afford, because it had the power to break him. He knocked on your door, not even aware he was doing so until he heard the sound echo back to him. He heard rustling, but he didn't hear you approaching the door, so he knocked again, and for good measure, he decided to call out. “Y/n? It’s me, it’s Finnick”. He heard someone approach the door at that, and a little bit of hope sparked inside him that you wanted to see him as much as he wanted to see you, but he knew better. 

The door opened, but it wasn't you that he came face to face with, it was Mags. She was standing in your hallway with a sad smile on her face, and she didn't say anything, but she looked to the stairs on the right end corner. He didn't need any more encouragement, and he sped up them, taking two steps at a time. He knocked on the door he was in front of, but there wasn't an answer. But when he listened more closely, he could hear crying coming from the other side. You were crying. His mind was reeling with possibilities, but whatever it was that had caused this, he swore to himself he would fix it, even if it broke him. 

And so he entered the room, opening the door softly so as not to startle you, but it didn't matter. He saw you in the corner, you had pulled your knees to your chest and he couldn't see your face from where you had hidden it, but his heart broke over it nonetheless. He walked towards you, testing the waters, testing his luck. He was scared for you, but mostly, he was scared you wouldn't want to see him. When you heard him, your head shot up to look at him. The way in which your eyes were bloodshot and swollen made him want to punch a hole in the wall next to you. The way your voice cracked when you said his name made him want to curl up right next to you. he got closer to you, kneeling down in front of you. Allowing you to take the next steps on your own time.

After a few minutes, you had slightly calmed down while he was tracing patterns on your knee with his thumb. You spoke to him, but you didn't look him in his eyes.

“They’re bidding on me Finnick, they’re bidding on me like I’m something to possess”

The feeling of dread that came over him was something he had never felt before. He thought he had gone through all someone could. He thought there was nothing that could hurt him anymore in a way he didn't already, but he had been wrong. 

He was willing to do anything for you to be spared from this, but he knew it wasn't any use. 

He knew better. And so he did all he could, taking you in his arms and whispering reassuring words, until your crying and your shaking stopped, and you seemed at peace again. 

He had tried himself to get away from what snow had wanted, what the capitol had wanted, he tried everything he could think of, but he couldn't get away from it. He had made peace with the fact that people always wanted something from him, and maybe that's why he couldn't get you out of his head, because you were the only person that was at peace with him, without anything more, just him. So he told you the only thing he could. He told you he’d be there for you, that you’d get through it together. He wasn't sure if he believed it, but he knew it was what you needed to hear, it was what he had needed to hear, except there had been no one to tell him. He would spend the rest of his life wondering if you needed him.

But he won't shut you out again, he knows better.

Part 2: Should've Known

[multifandomwhore-003]

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned

Pairing: gf! Ethan Landry x female! reader

Summary: He would do anything for you.

Genre(s): angst, just pure angst.

Warnings: SCREAM VI SPOILERS, obsession, very graphic descriptions of k*lling, inj*ring, bl*od, a lot of yelling, a lot of violence.

Taglist: @bratty-lxndry444 @melancholy-avi , join here :)

𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚗

REQUESTS CLOSED

THIS IS NOT FREE USE, YOU CANNOT USE MY WORK

Reblog if you like

"Baby, baby," he whispered, tears menacing to come out.

You covered your face, shaky hands hesitantly touching your forehead, "Ethan, please-" you took a step back.

He followed you, like he had promised himself he would, making it a vow, a blind devotee, pledged fervor and intensity since the first night he followed you home. He traced your shoulders with his fingers, a hopeless attempt at soothing you.

"No, no-" you took a shaky breath, "I-"

"Baby-"

"No, Ethan, I need to fucking think! Please! I shouldn't have to ask you for a fucking minute!" you spat, voice cracking.

He returned to the couch, perfectly still, he couldn't leave, he never would. Ethan never thought he'd felt fear with you, no matter how many douchebags flirted with you, how many people you had slept with before, the negative opinions people who never learned to mind their own business had, or the extensive periods of time you'd go without seeing one another, he had never doubted your relationship, your bond, he had never been afraid to lose you. It was new, the uncertainty, the mistrust, the anxiety, the dilemma; he was not appealed to the idea of new, not after all the changes his life had gone through in the blink of an eye.

He had chosen you, it wasn't chance, or a senseless coincidence, out of all the people he categorized as appealing, you were seamlessly outstanding, he made you more than the pretty girl from Econ who couldn't keep opinions to herself, he made you his fate, his and his only. He couldn't take credit in shaping you, however, he did crumble to how perfect you were, how flawlessly you filled his every need, a dangerous temptation with the sweetest of embraces. He couldn't afford to lose you, not now, not ever, he would never be able to get such luck, he was never a religious young man, but he felt blessed, and without a question, he would delightedly kneel before you.

"How?"

He turned to you, noticing your quiet sobs.

"How did you do it?" you sniffed.

He gulped, "You saw the news,"

"Yes, I saw the goddamn news Ethan, but I want to hear it from you, with that same confidence that you admitted it, I deserve to know!" you banged your hand on the kitchen counter, "It's the least you can fucking do! The whole fucking truth! I don't care how gross or violent it might sound! We both know you're not ashamed of it, so you better not fucking lie to me, I deserve the truth!"

He corrected his posture, "I took the knife from-"

"No!" you rushed to the living room, "I said everything! When did you decide to kill him?"

He had never seen you in such a way, so angry, so free; he had no choice, but to confess, "When he first whistled at you," he clenched his jaw, "I held back because you told me that you were gonna handle it, but you never did," he relived the frustration, "You knew the school wasn't gonna do anything, and you lied about everything else, so when I found the picture on your phone, I lost it, I followed him home as many times as I needed to memorize his routine, and last night I just-" he slightly grinned through the salty fluid, "I knew he didn't deserve a quick death, so I just began to cut him, until he had no blood to fight, I castrated him, something his parents should've done in the first place," he chuckled, "And to finish it off, I just chopped his head into nothing but paste,"

You looked at the ceiling, "And you-" you winced, "You did this for me?"

"I would do anything for you," he tilted his head.

You nodded as you returned to the kitchen, weakly filled a glass with water, and then drank from it, drowning the urge to feel nausea. You didn't notice when he suddenly was less than three feet away, you almost jumped at his sight.

The room had finally gone silent, nothing to be said, nothing to be thought, just raw suspense. He observed you wiping the runny mascara, hiccuping with every inhale, and almost whining with every exhale, washing the container, and drying your hands, trembling every second like a stray under the rain.

You came close, placed yourself on top of the counter to match his height, grabbed his hands timidly, as if you had never held them before, and cried more at the mere thought of what they can do, there was no point in having remorse anymore, so you simply began to bawl; but even then, you kissed his palms delicately rubbing them after, and guided them to hold your face. You finally met his terrified eyes with your red and puffy ones, trembling fingers crept to his brunette curls, reverently caressing them. You leaned in to peck his lips, testing, they felt so warm, tasted so delicious, you repeated your action, and this time he corresponded.

You had never kissed him with such passion, with such sincerity it almost felt like worship; his right hand hugged your waist, he wanted you, all of you simply in contact with this skin-wrapped vessel of his that was the only thing he could ever be allowed to hold you with.

"Please forgive me," he moaned into the kiss, "I'm sorry, love, I'm so sorry,"

He dried your tears with his rough thumbs, out of all the wicked things in his life, you were the best one, the most utterly divine one.

You didn't think it would be possible, but you broke again, you hated every inch of yourself, and almost felt disgusted by it, you weren't mad at him, you never were, you just wanted a reason to withdraw, but you couldn't, now that you knew everything you still loved him, all of it. There was no way back now, no second thoughts, no doubts, just a corrupted girl at his mercy, waiting, patiently waiting for the conflagration, you were ruined by him, for him. Your dearest sin.

[marshmallowprotection]

i gotta request a fiction about giving ray a hug on day 4. our boy deserves all of the hugs and that analysis was heartbreaking 💔😭

Ray was trembling like a leaf caught in the summer breeze, and all you wanted to do was embrace him. Yet, you didn't want to crowd him or touch him without his express consent. V cornered him, and the very sight of that man standing a mere few feet away from you had set him off. You weren't sure what to believe about the RFA and their validity, of the truths and lies you'd been told, but seeing how Ray reacted told you all you needed to know for now.

Something in this place was a lie, but Ray's fear wasn't a lie.

He was genuinely terrified of V.

"Ray," you gentle voice tried to reach out to him as you sat in front of him. "Ray, can you hear me?"

His face was buried in his hands as he sobbed. The sounds of harsh wheezing and coughing followed. Even if he could hear you, whatever seeing V had done to him wasn't going to go away anytime soon. He tried to puff out his chest and protect you, but the longer V stood in front of you, the harder it was for him to remain strong. Whatever V had done to him... whatever pain he experienced... it had to be one of the worst moments of his life if his response rendered him unable to see the forest through the trees.

What happened?

You tried again, "Ray?"

His sobbing hadn't died down, but he peaked at you through his fingers and instantly looked away when you saw how red and puffy his eyes had become. He'd already looked exhausted when you first saw him earlier in the night, but now it was written all over his face... had he even slept before meeting up with you? Had he stopped to close his eyes?

You knew he had a headache the night before and popped a few caffeine pills to help the pain, but that probably meant he stayed awake instead of resting.

No wonder this was so hard on him. His body wasn't taken care of the way it needed to be, and that must've made this emotional backlash even harder on him. Seeing V set him off, but he couldn't do anything to protect either of you because of his exhaustion, and whatever the harsh memories did to him. It wasn't his fault. You didn't blame him for not being able to protect the two of you. V should've backed off when you warned him to stop.

Why didn't he stop when he causing obvious duress?

Why?

"Ray, honey, it's okay, I'm not upset," you coaxed him. You weren't sure how else to reach him but you knew he wouldn't get any better by crying himself to sleep. "We're safe now, he's long gone and the guards are going to capture him before he gets away so you don't have to be afraid of him hurting you or me ever again. You did your best to protect us. Thank you."

He whimpered. The sound broke your heart but what could you do to help him? He didn't have the energy to explain. He promised you that he would explain everything later, once you were safe, just before he showed up and frightened Ray to the core. You knew you would talk to you about it when he was ready, but... this was different. You just wanted to know how to help.

"Can I hold you?"

Shame bled across his features.

"I want to, Ray. I really want to hold you so you can feel safe again—so, I can feel safe again," you insisted. You knew he would be more likely to listen to your request if you told him it would help you. "Please?"

Ray didn't run away. He made a noise that sounded like confirmation, so you decided to press your luck and embrace him. If he jolted out of your hug or pushed you away, you knew you wouldn't pressure him to do more than that. He didn't push you away, and though it took a very painful moment of sobbing before he moved, you held him gently, so very gently, as to show him that you would never keep him locked up. His sobs became louder but his arms wormed their way around your middle after you gave him that peace.

His face was buried against your chest, desperate for the sound of your heartbeat, as you pressed your lips against the top of his head, whispering sweet nothings to your precious Ray.

Even if this place wasn't what it seemed, you knew whatever had frightened Ray was real and he needed you to be there for him as it seemed like nobody else could be.

[nocreativityfornames]

The timing and occasion on which MC made the pacts with Lucifer and Belphegor should've been switched and here's why:

SPOILERS FROM LESSON 16 TO 20-14!!

I don't know if anyone has ever posted something similar to this but it's something I've been thinking about it for a while. I've never quite liked the way these two pacts were formed and to me, they were both timed weirdly and overall had little to no weight on the story, which sort of irritates me in a way.

I think our pact with Lucifer should've taken place at the party where MC was celebrated instead of the end of the season, it would've been much more meaningful that way and left way more impact than the disaster of a scene that lesson 20-14 was in my opinion. Because here's the thing:

Lucifer is the Avatar of Pride, one of the most powerful beings in all three realms, someone who's led an entire army through war and was maybe the first of his kind to rebel against its own creator. It's not easy to gain his respect, much less his trust, so for him to put his pride aside and offer a human the power to control his entire being, it's much more than a simple "possessive and horny confession", t's him placing his ultimate trust in someone, it's him showing just how much he's grown to care for you.

Because you deserve it. You were the human who put his dear family back together, who willingly ran head first into danger more than once just for the sake of protecting his brothers, who gave your life trying to help fix what he broke. You were much more than a simple exchange student, you were someone he had slowly come to cherish, who so gradually approached his heart that he didn't even notice you come in and before he knew it, all the irritation and distrust he felt towards you had turned into love and admiration. You were a precious presence in his life that he felt the need to protect but failed to do so.

So Lucifer offering to make a pact with you just shortly after all you had gone through was a way to let you know just how immensely grateful he was for all you had done for him and his family, to show you that you had not only earned his respect and trust but also his love. It was an apology for every time he had put you in harm's way and for not being there for you when you needed him the most. Lucifer offering you a pact it's him letting you know that he will never ever let anyone hurt you again and that he'll always be there for you from now on, it's him saying that you can lean on him as much as you need because you're now part of his family — the one thing he puts above all others and will do anything for.

Lucifer asking to make a pact with you it's him showing you mean the world to him while having no qualms about letting the whole three realms know you were remarkable enough to make the prideful Morning Star let go of his sin and give you all of him.

-

Now, let's talk about Belphegor. As I've seen many point out, the reaction to MC's death after lesson 16 as whole was terrible. There was barely any acknowledgment of what happened, no apology coming from Belphegor, and the weirdest thing of all: MC was not only completely okay with being close to Belphegor but also the only one trying to help him when all the brothers were more than rightfully being awkward around him. So let's just put it this way: the whole situation was beyond bizarre and we all like to pretend it wasn't canon.

But back to the matter at hand: Canonically, MC's pact with Belphegor is formed at Diavolo's birthday party. After he disappears from the main hall where everyone is and MC goes to find him on their own. That itself already seems wrong, I mean, I don't know about you personally but if I had just been murdered by someone a few days/weeks ago, I definitely wouldn't want to leave the side of those I'm safe with to go find that person alone. But Canon!MC is very dumb and we can't do anything about it so our only choice is to follow him.

We are also not given the choice to refuse the pact when it's proposed nor MC has the chance to speak a word about it. Now the way I see this, it's a clear sign that MC doesn't want a pact with him. They are scared and pressured into making a pact with Belphegor because they're not sure what could happen if they refused. Because then again, this is the guy that murdered them not that long ago and laughed at their dead body like he was having the time of his life. And the last time MC refused to make a pact didn't exactly go well either, with Satan shoving them into a bookshelf and threatening the hell out of them.

And if Satan reacted like that, imagine Belphegor. And there was no one around either, Canon!MC had made the stupid decision to go find Belphegor on their own and had no one to protect them at the moment. So they have no choice, they are frozen with fear and are ""forced"" to make a pact with him even though they dread the idea. It's just awful and I hate that scene so much I can't even put it into words.

MC's pact with Belphegor shouldn't have been formed so early. They should've had the time to heal from all the trauma, time to distance themselves from Belphegor, and to process everything they had been through. And then only later they would slowly start to warm up to him again, after they know for a fact he's truly sorry for what he did and deeply regrets it. After they are ready to face him.

And for Belphegor's pact with MC to be formed on their last day in the Devildom, it would've simply been beautiful. Because then Belphegor would've also had the time to learn to appreciate MC, to realize how special they truly were, for what he did to become one of the biggest regrets he's ever carried. Belphegor would've had the time to see right in front of him how you treated those you had a pact with, time to realize that to you, a pact wasn't about gaining power and status, but about forming a deeper connection with someone.

The pacts you shared were proof of your strong bond with his brothers and all the love you had for them. And honestly, it broke his heart to be the only one in the family who didn't have that kind of connection with you. But he wouldn't dare ask for it, he couldn't ask for it. He didn't have the right, not after what he did to you that day. You were nice enough to forgive him, to treat him with kindness when all he deserved was your hate and loathing. He couldn't ask for more, no matter much he wished to.

So when you come around and ask him for a pact on your last night in the Devildom, he couldn't have felt happier. To know that you had come to trust him like that again even after all he did, for you to love him enough to want his pact mark on you for the rest of your life, it felt nothing short of incredible. He wondered what he had done to deserve you, because someone as caring and sweet as you should have no business staying close to someone as rotten as him. But he gladly accepts the pact after you confirm to him that's truly what you want. Belphegor then hugs you as tight as he can, sobbing in your embrace as he is filled with both the happiness of your newly formed pact and the sadness that you have to leave.

MC being the one to ask for a pact with Belphegor shows that they've come to trust him just as much as his brothers. And the pact itself is a sign that they've both come to overcome their past traumas and now feel more than comfortable with each other. It's proof of the strong and unbreakable bond they have.

[thatgirlsza]

Untitled ♡

Kento Nanami x fem reader

Fluff, couples being couples, failed cooking attempts

Baking is not a skill but a science, as you were always told by many people—chefs, baking gurus, and basically anyone who had access to social media. Never the less, you grabbed your apron, tightening it around your waist, and then slamming the old cook book you'd stored behind all your clothes when you'd first moved in with Kento. He was at work; whether it was the office job or sorcery, it was not important, but what was important was that he came to a pot of food and baked breads and goods made by his one and only.

He had left a few minutes ago, like usual, and you had awoken as soon as his car pulled out of the driveway. Still in your pajamas, you gather the flour, eggs, and ungodly amount of butter you'd successfully hidden from his sharp eyes. You looked at the first recipe, and it was 24 servings of cookies. Easy enough. You measured out each ingredient to the tee, looking at the book each time to make sure you were messing up. Then you shaped them and placed them in the oven before dusting your hands. You smiled contently as the sun began to shine into the lounge area. It was going to be a long day, but Kento deserved it.

In the other end, the grade 1 sorcerer ate his piece of dry toast and the runny, cold egg he had prepared for himself before he left this morning. Sighing, he let the dry, wet, and tasteless blob slather in his mouth and swallowed harshly. He was right. Jujustu's sorcery was sh*t today more than ever because, for a second week, he could say goodbye to the most beautiful woman he'd ever met. He left his gorgeous wife, fast asleep, dreaming of a happy life, and her husband reminded her in bed with her. He didn't even leave you with breakfast, only a sorry excuse for a kiss on the forehead.

Saving people was still something he wanted to do, but the office was swamped, especially after the horrific public act of suicide committed by a terrorist group a week ago. Curses were becoming stronger, running more quickly on the streets, and I was too much for only the high schoolers. So he stepped in to assist, but the calls were getting more and more ridiculous, having to work over time and eating a cold dinner while you were at book club to pass the time. Today seemed as if it would be similar; after reading through all the paper work, he'd come home late. He sighed, and Gojo gave him a somewhat supportive pat on the back.

Back at home, it had long past its show-stopping performance for the day, drowned by the curtains of darkness, and you were something of a mess. After your lovely cookies had started baking, everything had gone south so fast that you should've seen it coming, but your optimistic tendency had held you captive. To sum up the hours that fell upon your modern-styled kitchen, the bread was flat and dense because the yeast would simply not be yeast, the macaroons were one big burnt cookie, and the vodka sauce for the paste caught a light more than it should've and burned the food. So you improvised and made a big, messy pizza you would've made for your old college roommate after forging the topping. It tasted good but was not worth the expensive red wine and love you were going to give Kento.

You hung your head, in defeat, to clean the kitchen, not even noticing the time striking 7 a.m., which is when your "where is Kento panic? would've kicked in." Instead, after cleaning, I went for a long shower and came out wearing your soft blue pajamas that matched his. Just as you settled on the sofa, the door clicked open, and Kento strolled in with some blood on his pretty suit and a bouquet of blue and white roses. "Honey," your sweet voice called, and you let out a defeated "here." You called, and pizza and wine were set up before you as he stepped closer before he came into view, making your eyes widen. His own did the same at the cute assortment before you.

"Mr. Nanami, where have you been? Your hair is a mess, and your covered in blood, and you..." you trailed off, walking up to him and gently caressing him as you noticed the roses. "What's this?" You asked, absently looking at them and who the hued "Yuji found these on his way home today. From a rose-torn curse or something. " He spoke shakenly as you gathered them in your arms, your eyes glinting as you looked at them. "So I picked them just for you." He continued to watch your pretty round eyes dart to him and back to the flowers. "I thank you. Oh, I'm such a bad person; all I made you was messy pizza and cookies." You said you were pouting, feeling a little bad, but he wouldn't have that.

"How about you? I listen to you tell me about your day. If we aren't too tired, we can make something special." He nuzzled your chick sweetly, making your pouty lips smile softly. "Fine, shower first." And so the night went on without a hitch, with you both nestled in each other's arms.

[lanterns-and-daydreams]

Hello! This is my first ever fanfic that i have written, so it might be kind of bad, but please bear with me. I hope you enjoy it :)

WINE AND WOES

Warnings: spoilers of The Battle of the Labyrinth and The Last Olympian

CHAPTER 1

NIGHTMARES

Pollux

I cant breathe. My throat feels like its constricting. I feel like im being strangled. Theres hands on my neck, his hands. Help. Help. Help-

I jolt awake, breathing heavily. The room is quiet, the only sound being my heavy, laboured breaths. I sit up slowly, my lungs feeling like their burning, my eyes stinging. I look around my dorm. I moved to Camp Jupiter a while after the battle with Gaia to go New Rome University to study botany.

I try to regulate my breathing, but its hard, especially when thoughts of him plague me almost every night. My throat constricts. Its been years since he died, and yet, everytime i think of him, my heart feels as if theres a hole in its place. A gaping hole, full of nothing but grief, regret, and guilt. I couldve saved him, i shouldve saved him. I shouldve been there. It should've been me and not him. Tears sting my eyes and threaten to fall as i try desperately not to remember his face. But that proves to be extremely difficult when his face is the same as mine

Its your fault

Its not my fault i try to convince myself, albeit however much it sounds like a lie

Is that the delusion you live under?

Please. Please, leave me alone, as if im not haunted enough

You deserve it. You deserve this pain.

The tears begin to slowly roll down my cheeks and i can do nothing to stop them. My breath hitches and i sob. He haunts my nightmares, he haunts me and won't leave me alone. I can never escape him, no matter how hard i try. He looks like me. Everytime i look in the mirror, i see him. His lifeless face. The face that couldve-- shouldve-- been full of life and light. A face that shouldve been smiling and grinning. The face of the boy who i grew up with. My brother, my twin, my other half.

Castor

I choke at the memory of his name. I try to get out of bed and move. I dont know where im going, i dont know what im doing. My legs wobble and i fall to the floor on my knees, my vision blurring momentarily. His face flashes behind my eyes. His lifeless face as his body went limp on the floor after he got stabbed and then hit on the head by an enemy. I couldnt help him. My arm was broken, and all i could do was lay there, staring at my brother, bleeding to his death, as he smiled at me one last time and did the little salute we always did ever since we were kids in a way of saying 'see ya later, loser' before his eyes glazed over.

I fall to my side and wrap my arms around myself, hugging myself as my body trembles. I was in denial, the whole way when another demigod helped me get to the healing camp, i was in denial. Pretending he wasnt dead, hoping so desperately that this was all just a dream, that he'd come back to me, that id wake up in my cabin and id see him laying on the bed next to mine.

I remember when his shroud burned. Purple and violet flowers, violet like his eyes, and the symbol of our father, Dionysus. I had stared, tears streaming down my face. Not bawling, not sobbing, just silently having a war with myself, and others must have seen it too. Will came to me afterwards, asking if i was okay, i hadnt answered him, he left after that. I wanted to cry, i wanted to sob and be angry, but i couldn't. I didnt know what was wrong with me, i hated myself for it.

I had gone back to my cabin. And then i had sobbed and bawled and cried till i had blacked out. I had skipped meals, and shut myself out. I thought itd get better with time. It did not. Even a snippet of our memories together makes me weak and vulnerable and want to cry.

Memories of our childhood flash behind my eyes. Two small boys, playing in the strawberry fields of Camp Half-Blood, eating strawberries, laughing and running around, their faces full of light and happiness, the sun gleaming in their golden blond hair, the light shining in their violet eyes, making them look like pieces cut from the purest of amethysts.

Two boys, arguing over what their secret handshake should be, and then eventually deciding on a two fingered salute. Stealing eachother's toys, clothes, and food, telling the worst jokes to each other but cracking up anyway, pretending to be each other and imitating personalities. Goofing around all day, pretending the world wasnt all that bad, as long as they had eachother. I used to always look for him when i woke up, checking the bed next to me to see if he was there.

And then the battle with Kronos had happened, and then one of them was gone. Now i dont even have to look at the bed next to mine when i visit Camp Half-Blood to know hes not there

My eyes land on the vertical upright mirror. I see a boy staring back at me, his face tear-streaked and his blond hair matted to his forehead, his chest moving up and down with his laboured breaths. Its him. Its me. And its all i have left.

Being alone had never bothered me. Castor didnt stay with me all the time, sometimes he left to train, or go talk with some other campers, or just going about his day in general. We were the only Dionysus kids, so we didnt really have any other siblings, so i was alone a lot. Being alone never bothered me, but being alone has never felt this lonely.

I shut my eyes, letting the sting subside. I sigh and open them again.

Im sorry

You should be

I close my eyes again and imagine him here.

I know. I am. Im sorry. I wish i could bring you back, but even if i could, i would never bring you back to this hell. All i hope for is that you can forgive me, and that you wait for me in the Elysium. We'll meet again, Cas. One day. One day, ill see you again. But till then, all i have are my wine and woes

[thinkingaboutbetterdays]

patience. ( cyrus lupo x reader )

gif belongs to me

Lupo was one bad date from believing that he was cursed. He had feelings for you for several months, and his reasons for not asking you out sooner was because work kept you both busy and his love life was one failure after another. After the last woman he cared for turned out to be one of the suspects they were looking for, Lupo intended to stay single for the rest of his life - something he had shared with you over a drink.

In line with your personality, you called him "dramatic" and a "man who lets a woman's appearance cloud their true character." Lupo had denied your claims, and when you asked him to argue his case, you jokingly called him "counselor". Lupo's argument was based entirely on you, which stunned you into silence as he described his first interaction with you in perfect detail, and you were taken back to the first day you entered the precinct to retrieve files that would help your defense case. However, Lupo appealed to your better nature, and you dropped the case and squashed your client's demands of suing the department.

"I knew that you were against your client from the beginning. You were forced to take the case and took the chance on missing a promotion to get the guy behind bars."

You sipped your drink before sitting it on the bar top. "Yeah, well, I've never been good at taking orders. One of the many, many reasons I could never be a cop."

"I don't mean that as a bad thing." He quickly backpedaled. "I meant that you do the right thing without caring about the consequences. And you do it with every case. And with people." When you raised an eyebrow, his lips formed a smirk as he explained, "Well, you tend to upset people with your honesty. But it's another thing I like about you."

Feeling a shift in the atmosphere, you looked at the detective, who took a long sip of his beer. "I'm not always honest." He looked at you curiously as you continued, "Remember when the shooter broke into my office, and you told me that I should've called you, and I said I didn't cause it was the middle of the night, and you had just gotten off shift, and I promised to tell you everything?"

"Yeah." He chuckled.

"Well, I lied." You turned to order another drink, and with a long sip, your drink was gone.

"What? Wait, wait, so what haven't you told me?" He asked, leaning his arm on the bar top as he turned to you.

"Your choice in women is poor." You held up a hand when he raised an eyebrow, continuing to speak before he could interrupt you. "No, you do have poor taste in women. But it's because you always want to see the good in people. Like me, for example. It's the eve of your day off, and you're sitting in a flashy bar instead of going home because you feel I deserve to have someone. And I don't need anyone." You concluded, referring to the time he had you meet him in what was known as a cop bar because most of the customers were cops, past and present. He had told you that it must've been lonely at the top, meaning the top of your field, and you had told him, "but the view is great."

Lupo had witnessed how personal cases became when you were named prosecutor, the opposition and your colleagues often questioned how you handled cases. Your sharp tone and honesty, which many found offensive, had gotten you into trouble many times, but Lupo was the first to understand that it was your way of keeping people away.

"Yeah, you do." He replied. "And before you judge my love life too harshly, I happened to be right about one woman in my life." He paused for a moment. "You."

"Me?"

"It's currently one in the morning, and you've just won another case, and instead of celebrating with a bottle of wine that would probably cost me three months' wages, you are here having a drink with me." You pondered his words, realizing he was right. "You do need somebody. Everyone does at some point."

"You've got me all figured out, huh?" You paid the bartender when he placed another drink before you, lifting the glass delicately as you turned to the detective beside you. "Have you ever considered that this," You gestured between you both, making the corner of his lips tug upwards at your aversion to labeling him as a friend. "is one, if not the biggest, reason why your relationships fail? You have a girl at home waiting, and here you are sitting with the antichrist."

Lupo had, in fact, considered this, hell he knew it was true, but he refused to let your comment slide so easily. "You're not the antichrist."

"Your partner thinks so. Actually, everyone does. Except you." You tilted your head as you met his gaze, and Lupo shook his head.

"You're not the antichrist. Little smug but," he shrugged, and you glared at him when he smirked, "you are great at what you do, so I let it slide."

You rolled your eyes before asking, "So why do you do it? Is it a charity thing?"

"Did you ever consider that I like your company?" He said, taking a sip of his beer. "After a long day of people lying, receiving some honesty is refreshing."

You stared at him for a moment. "If you can figure me out, then why can't you figure out the women in your life are crazy?"

"I am still busy trying to figure you out. That's why their craziness goes over my head."

You snickered, and he looked at you with a smile, chuckling as he shook his head. You observed him as he took another drink, sensing his sudden nervousness. You were getting closer to the truth; he knew it, and you knew he would tell you. He always told you everything eventually.

"Why do you keep trying to be my friend?" You asked.

"Because everybody needs somebody. And as hard as it may be for you to believe, I enjoy your company. Although it is frustrating when I feel like you're pushing me away and I can never figure out why." He replied.

"Maybe I'm protecting you." You told him.

"What? From you?"

"Is that such a wild thing to believe?"

Lupo set his beer down when you glanced away, playing with your glass, and he could see it then. The truth so openly presented in a moment of pure honesty. So he decided to return the favor.

"I don't really like them." He began, elaborating when you looked at him. "Sometimes I need a distraction. Then I get so distracted that I don't realize they could be a murderer."

Your eyebrows furrowed and while you wanted to make a witty remark, you instead opted to ask, "What do you need a distraction from? The job?"

"Parts of it." He said. "The things we deal with every day take their toll sometimes. And then there's you."

Expecting him to respond like everyone else, even though you knew how highly Cyrus thought of you, you were shocked when he made a confession that would change your life.

"For someone so smart, I don't know how you haven't realized I have feelings for you. That I have for a while." He chuckled lightly.

You knew. Of course, you knew about his feelings. But you had always dedicated yourself to your work, and meeting the persistent Cyrus Lupo, who wasn't so easily deterred as everyone else, determined to break down your walls to learn everything there was to know about you, had made cracks appear on those bricks. You knew tonight was a bad idea. But the scorching jealousy you had felt earlier when you heard about his relationship with the suspect, you knew you couldn't deny it to yourself anymore. Or to him.

"I know the thought of anyone getting close freaks you out. And I don't know who hurt you enough to make you shut yourself away. All I know is I wanna kick their ass." His speech made you smile faintly, and your gazes locked as he moved closer. "And I want to prove that I wouldn't dare hurt you. I'd sooner take a bullet."

"Don't say that. You are ninety-six percent more likely to be shot than anyone else in your profession. Even me. And a lot of people want to kill me." You attempted to scold him while lightening the atmosphere, but you weren't sure he had even heard you as he reached out to tuck your hair behind your ear.

"Not if I kill them first. Plus, I'd have a good lawyer."

You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, and Cyrus closed the distance between you, kissing you tenderly but with enough hesitance that made you ease into the kiss. You placed a hand on the nape of his neck, drawing him closer momentarily before pulling away.

"I would be a witness; therefore, I couldn't represent you legally -" Cyrus cut you off with another kiss, and your eyes closed as you reciprocated his passionate kiss with equal fervor.

He pulled away after a few moments, but his hand remained on your cheek as his eyes searched your expression to try and gauge what you were thinking or feeling. And his worries were quickly taken away when you spoke.

"I have an overpriced bottle of wine at home. Do you want to join me?"

And Cyrus knew his patience had finally paid off.

[starlightshadowsworld]

Danganronpa 3 Despair arc episode 7

Thonks

Oh so we're just gonna jump immediately into last time, which was Junko running into Ryota.

And interrogating him now.

Never thought I'd here Junko Enoshima utter the word weeb and yet here we are.

Rude, animators deserve more recognition and stuff.

The irony of an anime character going on a rant about how important anime is.

To another anime character who doesn't like anime.

The fourth wall is taking some hits this episode.

Wasn't expecting him to than show her his project.

And than for to cry.

I love how they had to include a *This is her personal opinion* note as Junko wacks down a bunch of manga with a bat.

Mukuro crying face was legitimately terrifying tho.

Oh no, don't tell Junko how to influence anyone's brains with subliminal messaging.

... Or with anything.

I thought this was just a bit but nope... This is bad... Oh no.

I'm gonna be saying that a lot aren't I.

This is what I get for wondering what Ryota was doing during all of this, because while apart of the 77th class, he's not apart of the killing game or the Remnants.

But he's part of the Future Foundation.

I am concerned about the casual conversation about using media to brainwash people and than Ryota ends it with making the world a better place.

And her smile, oh he is so gonna be a tool for destruction.

Aaannnd Gundam is doing poses with a bear.

Love to see it.

Nagito's still suspended... And was in a plane crash and ended up a deserted island.

Typical Nagito things.

.... Didn't need to see him showering in a waterfall...

And of course straight after that is Teruteru putting a banana through a donut.

I gotta hand it to these guys they really embodied high schoolers.

Gundam saying silence you perverts as a bear chomps on their hands, the best response.

And Ryota's been missing for a week.

I'm sure Junko had nothing to do with that.

Ugh Juzo's here.

Just when I had my hopes up I wouldn't have to deal with him for a while.

But fine, what you gotta say.

... Oh 20 staff members have gone missing... Nevermind that is important.

Juzo, you are the dangerous people. Maybe not specifically these dangerous people, but you do be dangerous.

.... Chisa why would you wanna lay your life down for Munakata?

Literally.... Why?

"Don't let emotions infer with the job you're here to do."

Those are bold words for you of all people to utter, Mr I damn near beat Hajime into a coma.

Get off you're high horse.

Ryota I get what you mean by the new equipment is great but you're always alone, how are you more alone here?

What cos Twogami ain't here to make sure your still alive?

Rude.

Mukuro casually kidnapping Mikan.

Typical day for both of them.

Given how Mikan... Talks about Junko... I am not looking forward to this.

Junko's analyse face is disturbing.

So she was able to, on the second watch figure out how the brainwashing works... Wow.

No yeah, ultimate analyst makes sense.

Oh look it's Izuru.

And she asked him out.

I don't ship it.

OH! I should've seen that coming but nope.

Just bodies hitting the ground, and the bloods pink again.

I guess that would be her version of a date, and Junko's the one doing the killing.

Which is somehow more terrifying

She's usually the woman in the chair, but seeing Junko be the one actively killing and torturing people is creepy.

I dunno if I've mentioned it before but I like Izuru's voice because it very much sounds like if someone had their soul drained out.

And it sounds similar to Hajime's but also not.

... Oh... Oh no...

There's kids in the classroom....and she wants to show Izuru despair on a bigger scale.

The student council too... Not just some random students.

Wait.

I had heard there were other killing games, or at the very least the 78th class wasn't the first.

So this is the first killing game... Ohh that is good.

Man the guy telling everyone to calm sounds so much like Ishimaru in both the sound of his voice and his words.

This is so much scarier than any killing game shown in the games... Holyshit Mukuro just shot a student and went you don't fall in line and do the same you'll end up like her.

No crazy executions.

No class trial.

No Monokuma.

This is terrifying.

Well at least we still have the motive videos.

Mukuro singing while this goes on is just yeah sure.

And it just keeps going... Fuck.

Also it can't be a coincidence that some of these kids loosely resemble the 78th class

I love that the chainsaw says Jason Freddy.

And the fact the last one manager to graze Izuru's cheek.

Typical hopes peak wanting to cover it up, even though Jin does want to say something.

Huh I wonder if that guy stuck with Kirigiri in the present because her father asked him to keep an eye on her if something happened to him.

Junko exposing the whole Kamakura project and the student council massacre.

And using Izuru as the scapegoat.

Clever.

So now the reserve course is coming for the main school.

"Where did you go Hinata?"

Oh erm... You don't wanna know Chiaki.

Trust me on that.

[jasnstilnski]

@hunteds: ❛ you look different. ❜

he is still getting used to the comfort of home, to the safety and security of his own bed, to the love of his fathers. he may have spent years with them already, but his time on the streets had changed everything. subjected once again to trauma beyond what he was prepared to deal with, alone and afraid and doing anything he could to just get by. he never thought he'd be back here, had been certain that his fathers wouldn't want him back, that he'd be on the streets for however long was left of his short life. being found, being brought home, it wasn't something he had anticipated. kindness had rarely if ever been shown to him in his life, but it was something that had become so undeniably entwined with his fathers.

the last time he saw her was years ago, back when he'd still had childlike innocence, when his struggling to get through high school had still been perceived as cute. it was before jasper, before the drugs, before he'd run off to try to make it on his own on the streets of a city that had never been kind. new york was a place full of beautiful lights, but jason had only ever spent his time in the dark and dank alleyways that he never should've gone down, streets that his fathers would've warned him off of a million times. seeing her now, like this, he feels a level of shame. what high hopes had she had for him? had they been shattered entirely? could she look at the mess of a boy before her and still see him as a smaller version of miecz? or had he long lost the luxury of comparison to the stilinskis? he certainly doesn't feel worthy of that family name now, doesn't feel as though he deserves to have once again been taken in off the side of the road and fed love on a silver spoon.

he smiles, but it is not the cheerful grin she once would've gotten from him. it's a look of pity, as if she is mourning the dead. some part of him has decided she is, that the boy he'd been when they first met was long dead and gone. miecz may try his best to pretend that isn't the case, but jason is well aware of it. gone are the strangers who look like they understand everything when they find out his last name is stilinski; now all he is met with is confusion and pity, looks sent his fathers way as if to wonder how this came to be. his past has long been locked behind glass, something he refuses to delve into despite how easily it is seen across his face. the scars never faded, and maybe if she looks close enough she'll register that he has more than he once did. if she looked off to the side and spotted a photograph of him, would she even register him as the same boy? if not for the telltale scars and ginger curls, he thinks even his own fathers would not recognize him now. perhaps even the men at the lab, who had spent over a decade analyzing his every breath, would falter at the sight of him. sometimes to stay alive a little part of you has to die, this is a truth that jason has faced more times than he could count.

"grown." but they both know that isn't really it. he's not any bigger than he once was, if anything he's smaller. they've been trying to get his weight up ever since they got him back, feeding him as often as he'll allow. it's just like all those years ago when miecz had found him on the street, when he'd first taken the poor kid in and just wanted to look after him until he could find the boy's home. that felt like lifetimes ago now, and jason can't help but wonder if his father regrets it. if stiles had just kept driving that night, he wouldn't have gone through the horrors of having jason as a son, he wouldn't have had to put himself through heartbreak over and over for a boy who never would've been his. he almost asks her, as if she'd tell the truth. he doubts, really, that miecz would've told her if he regretted it. he doubts he would've told anyone. asking her a question like that would only lead to the predictable "your father loves you" that he'd already heard so many times before.

despite the few years that had passed, she doesn't look any different to him, not really. his dads friends had always been around enough that their image is burned into his memory, any signs of aging or changes in appearance go practically unnoticed. she doesn't hold visible signs of trauma, no recent wounds or awful scars that make him think she has changed. in jasons mind, allison is the exact same as the last time he saw her, maybe even more put together - and that only adds to that shame in his gut, the feeling that she has things figured out while he's in the state that he is. but of course she does, that's why she's here. his fathers would never leave him with someone who wasn't entirely capable of keeping him safe. he thinks he's a little too old for babysitters now, but he knows that that's what this is. his dads may have treated this like just some normal visit where she comes to catch up, but the way they had slipped out of the room was obvious: it's too heavy, they need a break from it all. what an awful paradox they are forced to confront: as difficult as it had been for them to not know where jason was or what he was doing, to see him again and have to face the reality of what he'd survived seemed almost worse. it's not the first time one of his dads had needed to leave the room to process things, but it is the first time they'd both gone, leaving him with someone they trust in the meantime.

"y'known dad forever," at least, it seems like forever for him. stiles had already been out of high school when they met, had already started using miecz to feel more grown up. she'd known him long before he'd become the kind of man to become a father like he was. "did..." he doesn't exactly know what he wants to ask. he can't ask outright if he'd ever hit rock bottom the way jason has, he's already certain the answer is no. there's a lot of things jason believes himself to be sure of, even if the truth may not be as simple as he thinks. "was things.. better? before he found me?" its not outright asking, but it holds the same weight as pondering on his potential regret. if his father's life had been better before he came along, he thinks that's something he should know. jason's had his suspicions, of course. he knows that he wasn't an easy child, that no one would find it easy to suddenly have a thirteen year old kid overnight. especially one who was in the position he was in - couldn't read or write, barely spoke, had only ever known pain. miecz likes to talk highly of jason, of how much his son has changed his life for the better, but he struggles to picture it that way. "when he was my age.... was it.. better?"

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Sorry I was thinking about this the entire time I was in a meeting

The real sticking point was that Ed should've been able to see the red flags from a million miles away.

He was just so tired, was the thing. And this one last job had sounded so perfect, he'd been desperate to believe it. One little thing, infamous Blackbeard posing as a rich ceo to meet with a bunch of corporate bigwigs out here at some rich-fuck ski resort in the mountains, do a little magic to bleed their bank accounts dry and have it all rerouted through a dozen foreign banks right back to Ed Teach's account. And then he could finally retire for good, live the high life...

Hadn't even realized what an easy job he was making it by talking to everyone else in the business about how this was his last gig. Now, no one would even think to question why he was gone.

And still, somehow, he'd still thought he'd gotten off lucky.

He'd been dragged out of his resort bed in the middle of the night. The rich fucks all had a bone to pick with Blackbeard, apparently.

And he still thought he'd gotten off lucky, because, sure, they might've roughed him up a bit. But Ed was used to that. Not the first time he'd been beaten up pretty bad on a job gone south.

But then he realized that they'd just tossed him out of the car in the middle of nowhere, while it was snowing so heavily that he couldn't even make out the road, and he was wearing only the t-shirt and flannel pajama pants he'd gone to bed in. Wasn't even wearing socks, let alone shoes.

He thought he remembered reading once that you could get frostbite in minutes, in temperatures like this.

Ed, with his big stupid beaten-up heart, so full of hope even when there was no reason for it, picked a direction and started walking. He fancied he might see a light reflecting on the snow.

After a few minutes, he had to accept that he was wrong. He wrapped his arms around himself, attempting some semblence of warmth and comfort. He was shaking hard, his breath coming out in laborious pants, his teeth rattling.

His feet hurt. His feet hurt a lot. Might as well have been walking on glass, for how it felt.

He couldn't remember what it was like to be warm, he was so cold.

Ed stumbled, and he fell, and he contemplated not getting up -

There was a light.

Ed could see it, from where he'd landed on the ground, somewhere between the trees and the curve of the mountain. Someone was - who had parked an RV up the trail here, in weather like this?

Ed got up, and he stumbled on.

He would never be sure how he did it. It could only have been a couple minutes, but his thoughts felt so slow and confused and disjointed. He realized, at some point, that he'd stopped shivering, and that felt like a bad sign.

When Ed reached the RV, his knock was weak, and he knew it must've just been his confusion, but it looked like the man who opened the door was made of sunlight.

Ed meant to ask for help. But, in his confused state, he said what he really meant.

"Please don't hurt me," Ed managed to get out, and then he collapsed.

When Ed woke up again, everything was warm.

He should've been terrified, and he still was, but just not as badly as he should've been. He thought about warning his savior that Ed probably didn't deserve the saving.

The sunshine-man said his name was Stede.

"Like a horse," Ed mumbled, his tongue still heavy and his thoughts weird.

"Ha, ha," Stede pretended to laugh. "Super original joke. Totally haven't heard that one before."

"My name's Ed," Ed said, letting his eyes closed. He had been placed by a space heater, and Stede had put a warm knitted hat on his head. "Which rhymes with dead. Which I might be."

"You're not going to die," Stede said, and for some reason, Ed believed him.

Things got a bit scarier as Ed warmed up and started to come back to himself more. He started shivering again, horrible and bone-rattling, and his feet hurt so badly it made him cry.

But Stede never judged him. Just gave him sympathy, like Ed was a person whose feelings and pain mattered.

Stede was out here to escape his old life too, apparently. He was thinking about running away and becoming a park ranger. He promised he'd done a lot of research, and he'd taken first-aid classes, and Ed had managed to just avoid actual frostbite in his feet.

Ed let Stede help him out of his snowy, wet clothes and into soft, warm flannel pajamas. Stede had him sit with his feet in a bowl of warm water, which felt like pins-and-needles before it felt amazing, and then he got to just sit and drink a mug of hot chocolate while Stede gently covered him in band-aids and antibiotic ointment.

Later, Ed would learn Stede apparently started getting really concerned when Ed didn't even flinch as Stede taped two fingers together, because he'd correctly guessed that one was broken. Ed had been pretty badly beaten up, covered in bruises and little cuts, and later Stede would tell him that he'd thought his reactions were weird. The actual pain wasn't really phasing him, all he did was sniffle and mumble "ouch," but he still flinched violently at Stede's gentle touches. He'd still been trying to widen his eyes and glare, an instinctual imitation of the Blackbeard performance that came across more like a scared kitten puffing its tail up. Later, Stede would tell Ed that he'd known then that he was never going to let Ed get hurt ever again.

"Stay," Stede whispered to him.

Ed half-snorted, exhausted and hurting. "Where could I even go?"

Stede just frowned at him.

"Yeah," he mumbled, "yeah, I'll stay."

He was still shivering, so he let himself get bundled up into Stede's bed, and he'd half-thought he might be dreaming, at that point, so he'd begged until Stede got in with him and hugged him.

Ed didn't know it yet, but he'd never feel cold again.

unfortunate fixation today on cold weather whump especially ed getting dumped out of a car in the middle of a snowy field wearing little or no clothing

[sarnith]

yes yes trans danny i agree but consider also: trans vlad

he's been stealth since he was a teenager. maddie and jack don't even know, let alone any other politicians. and they won't - god help him if the news gets ahold of that shit, his approval rating's already low enough as it is.

if he's honest, vlad's resentment for jack isn't entirely because of maddie, or even his particularly narrow view of spectral (after)life. after all, he was friends with jack first. and it wasn't like he fell for maddie the moment he laid eyes on her, either. it was partially, just - jack is so cis. so stereotypically, socially-acceptably masculine. he was always kind and accepting, didn't think twice about vlad's long hair or peculiar fashion sense, and even if he sometimes teased vlad about his five-step skincare routine, it was friendly, not mean (and he stopped doing that, too, after - well, after. he was at least a touch more sensitive than vlad gave him credit for), but it still made vlad irritable, even though it wasn't jack's fault. his friend had never seen anything in the mirror other than exactly who and what was supposed to be there, and he acted like it.

he didn't know about danny. he should've. the pieces were there. old emails and even letters from jack, congratulating him on this birthday or that election win, with brief mentions of "maddie and the girls" doing well. he'd just thought he'd lost the news of their son's birth somewhere in the clutter of his inbox, or his memory.

vlad really did think dani was a mistake. he feels terrible about it now, knows he hurt and confused the poor girl to death, and constantly reassures her that she is perfect, flawless, but as much as it fills him with disgust and self-loathing to remember, he didn't always see her that way. before she was his danielle, his beloved daughter, his baby, she wasn't - wasn't even a person, in vlad's eyes, she was a stepping stone. a tool. a somewhat stable failure. an absolute frustration, honestly, because no matter what tests he ran, it was clear both dani and danny's ectoplasmic signatures and their genetic structures were the same. and after longer than vlad would really prefer to admit, it hit him. their genetic structures were the same.

yes i do believe that vlad loves dani, come for me. he never thought he'd have children of his own, for obvious reasons, and never really cared about it that much - he didn't favor infants or young children, anyway, and always figured if he were to adopt it would be an older child. but danielle is his own. she's his creation, one of his mind if not his flesh and blood. he'll wax poetic about his little athena, his warrior bursting fully formed and armored from his head. she'll roll her eyes and take off her beanie and make a joke about helmet hair. he doesn't deserve her forgiveness, but he's honored to have it. he's her father.

he felt guilty for knowing about danny. despite knowing intuitively that the kid had obviously gone through the whole to-do of coming out and transitioning in a small town where everybody knows everybody else's business, it felt - well, intrusive. like an invasion of privacy. he remembered, before he was stealth, how nice it was to just have someone not know. he felt bad taking that away from him. he felt bad danny couldn't tell him himself.

his solution to this was appropriately convoluted and dumb: he found out about danny on his own, danny could find out about vlad on his own. with several meticulously placed hints and cues.

it so did not work.

okay, well, it did, kind of. eventually. it was a photograph he'd put out of himself with his parents, from when he was young. vlad had forgotten he'd set it out, honestly. he quite liked it, but he was thankful he hadn't had dinner guests recently. he wasn't usually so careless with incriminating memories.

anyway, danny'd knocked it over while grilling him about some nonsense or other going on in the zone, and said - rather ironically - "i didn't know you had a sister."

"i don't." "come on, man. she looks just like you." "that is me, daniel."

danny, not getting it and sensing an opportunity to get on vlad's nerves: "damn. you looked like a girl as a kid."

vlad, absolutely exhausted of how horribly all this is going: "i was."

"you - wait, you're?" - vlad turns human and lowers himself to the floor. "i've been trying to tell you."

"but how did you know about me?" danny asks after doing the same, and vlad sighs, the guilt still weighing on him.

"danielle." "... oh."

danny had looked rather uncomfortable, so vlad just sighed and told him what he knew about the zone situation. danny nodded and left through the front door. it was weird.

he came back a few days later and asked vlad if he'd been lying. vlad wasn't offended; the assumption was fair.

he came back again the next week, this time to pick up danielle, but she knew her cousin as well as she knew her father, and asked danny if they could hang out at home.

the next time danny came to see vlad, it was at his office, a couple hours after school got out. he annoyed his receptionist enough to get her to call him, and vlad immediately had her cancel his next meeting.

"some dumb transphobe at school," he'd muttered, like it was nothing, like it was stupid that he was upset. vlad's jaw clicked before he realized he was clenching his teeth.

it was a child danny had gone to middle school with; she'd called him by his birth name. he corrected her, politely, and at first she'd apologized, but then took danny's "no worries!" as an invitation for debate, apparently.

" - my voice, and - and my body, i guess she has gym with me, but for fuck's sake, cis guys can be scrawny, too. tucker's even worse than me - " " - and my name, like she kept saying that danny can be a girl's name, there must be a reason i picked a name a girl could have. and it's daniel, anyway, that's not a name girls have? i guess they can if they want, but -"

vlad wasn't catching every word over his fucking blood pressure ringing in his ears.

he just wanted to comfort him, but he had to be responsible first. jack wouldn't mind, in fact he'd probably be glad danny had come to vlad for something, but maddie would be worried. he waited for danny to take a breath. "do your parents know?"

"yeah, they were nice about it, but they didn't really get it. like, they don't - it's not their fault, but they never get it." his voice had been wavering a little the entire time he'd been there, but that's when he started crying. he laughed bitterly as he wiped at his eyes and mumbled that "she would've called this girly, too," talking about the bully again.

vlad took a deep breath so he'd sound calm - he didn't mean to, but he knew he sometimes scared the receptionist shitless - took the phone off the hook and dialed the front desk, asked her to reschedule the rest of his meetings that day, and hung up. and then he took danny in his arms without a word.

they've been close ever since, and neither of them are under the illusion that it's anything but super weird. no one really is, except for jack, who predictably thinks it's fantastic. sam and tucker especially are still wary of vlad.

not to mention plasmius is still, like, evil. that's the weirdest part for danny, having his supportive uncle proudly telling him how much he's improving as they battle. occasionally with his little cousin, participating on the side of whoever she was with when she got there.

also, can i just say vladimir is such a trans guy name. like that just screams "i have lived in wisconsin my whole life but i am of slavic descent and also very dramatic"

[idy-ll-ique]

Things I Like About You.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, fluff, fluff

Warnings: mentions of nightmares

Requested: nope

Summary: Bucky makes a list of 18 things that he likes about Y/N, starting with her voice.

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! idk how this idea came to me but I decided to proceed with it anyway lmao. enjoy!

---

The first thing he liked about her was her voice. Just smooth, soft, a little raspy but it made his heart flutter as he walked to the communal area with Steve, his best friend. As they neared the room her voice became louder, turned more melodic. Singing, she was singing a song. A wave of pleasure washed over him when he heard her but he concealed it easily.

The second thing he liked about her was her face. When he and Steve walked into the communal area her back was to them, and she was still singing. For a minute they just listened as Y/N hit all the notes correctly; only then did Steve cut her off by clearing his throat. She whirled around and his breath caught in his lungs.

She had the most gorgeous eyes he had ever seen on anyone. They were simply perfect and when they narrowed as she smiled widely, he was done for. Her nose was perfect, her pretty lips were perfect, her teeth were perfect, her hair was perfect and literally everything else about her was just perfect. "Hi Steve, Mr Barnes!" She greeted them enthusiastically.

That was the third thing he liked about her, her personality. She was not too loud, not too quiet, not too brazen, not too prude… simply marvellous. "Hey, Y/N! You can call him Bucky, you know." She glanced at him and his eyes went wide on their own accord as he nodded, agreeing with Steve. Then she gave him another smile.

Oh boy, I'm in trouble. "Fine, Bucky. It's very nice to meet you." She held her hand out and that was the fourth thing he liked about her; the feel of her skin. Just like her voice, her skin was smooth and buttery, so soft that for a moment, he almost didn't want to blemish her beautiful skin by touching her. But he still gingerly took her hand, shaking it.

He did not trust his voice; he knew that if he tried to speak, he'd just squeak out some nonsense. Where is my 40s charm?! Just when you need it… He gave her a polite nod as they shook hands and Steve sighed on his right. "Sorry, it takes him a while to, you know, speak in front of the others…" Y/N waved him off easily.

"I understand, Steve. Let him take his time, no rush." She gave him another smile and this time, he found himself smiling back. "Your smile is wonderful," she told him, which caused his smile to widen involuntarily. "So is yours," he rasped and there it was: the fifth thing he liked about her. Her blush. She went red and rubbed the back of her neck.

"Thank you, Bucky." He had never liked his name more. "Well, now that you two have been introduced, I guess I can go. Think you can take it from here, Buck?" He nodded but the truth was that no, no he couldn't take it. Alone with her? What if he did something embarrassing and drove her off? "Shall we sit?"

She gestured to the couches and he nodded, both of them sitting next to each other. The sixth thing he liked about her, her posture. Back straight, ankles crossed, hands folded neatly on her lap, she looked like a Royal. There were no words spoken in the first five minutes but Y/N didn't get up, she knew it always took him some time. She'd be there for him.

"You sing wonderfully," he blurted out and she turned to look at him with the smile he was quickly getting obsessed with. I'm gonna have to make her smile more often. "Oh, thank you so much!" He gave her a smile of his own and looked down at his lap. "How are you doing today?" He looked back up. "I'm doing well, you?" She nodded and giggled.

"Sorry, didn't know what else to ask." The seventh thing he liked about her, her giggle. Her laugh, in general. "It's okay, darling," he grinned lazily and watched as she blushed again at the nickname. Maybe he won't embarrass himself after all. "So, are you new on the team?" he asked her and she shook her head.

"I'm not on the team, actually. I'm just good friends with the Avengers, I don't fight. I own a bakery down the street," she told him and he hummed. "A bakery? Sounds just as sweet as you," he flirted easily and watched how she went red again. "You're too flattering," she mumbled and he shook his head. "You deserve it."

"I was actually wondering when I'd get to meet you, but Steve told me I'd have to wait before you were ready," she blurted out, suddenly nervous. He cleared his throat and looked away. "Sorry." She placed a hand on his shoulder and his head snapped towards her, making her drop her hand. But he gently took it and returned it to his shoulder, giving her a shy smile.

"Hey, no, don't apologize. I have a PhD in Psychology, you know, I know you needed time. I was willing to wait longer," she told him and he felt his heart flutter. Mama, I found my wife. "You have a PhD and yet you opened a bakery?" She flushed deeper. "I just like baking. I have had my bakery before I even started my first year at the university."

"That's wonderful. So, uh, the Avengers, they visit often?"

"Yes, oh my God! After every damn mission. Steve and Sam were there the last time, yesterday, when they came back. Finished two dozen of my muffins, had to bake more in the middle of the night to restock." The eighth thing he liked about her, the way she complained, how her nose scrunched and she pulled a face.

He couldn't help but laugh. "They do have a sweet tooth," he pointed out and there it was; the ninth thing he liked about her— her pout. "Still! I lost a lot of sleep," she huffed. "I'd like to visit your bakery too, doll. Have an address?" She immediately reached into the pocket of her jeans, pulling out a slightly crumpled business card.

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry!" she hissed, noticing the state her card was in but he didn't care in the least. I'm going to keep this paper with me till the end of my life. "It's not a problem at all, doll." Then he examined the card, smirking at the name of the bakery. "The Sweet Spot, huh? Wonder where yours is," he spoke effortlessly, eyes still on the card.

He heard a choking noise and turned to see Y/N laughing behind her hands, barely able to contain herself. "Aren't you just smooth, Barnes," she replied evenly and all he wanted to do at the moment was haul her over his shoulder, take her to his bedroom and never leave. "I was known to be quite charming in the 40s," he winked and she giggled more.

"I would've loved to see that." Soon, she checked her watch and clicked her tongue, standing up. "My bakery opens in 15 minutes, I have to go. It was nice to meet you, Bucky." She simply stood there, fidgeting and that worried him. "Doll?" Her eyes met his. "Sorry, um, I was thinking… should I hug him or shake his hand? Probably should've—"

Without another word he pulled her in his arms and the tenth thing he liked about her? Her hugs. She easily slid her arms around his torso, pressed her face into his chest— being shorter than him— and squeezed. His vibranium hand cradled her head and the flesh one went around her shoulder, returning the squeeze.

The hug was longer than necessary, not that either of them complained. When she pulled away, both of them exchanged huge smiles. He felt lighter and happier than he had in years, even though he was attending therapy now. "Bye, Bucky! See you later!" Oh see you later alright, he visited the bakery just an hour later.

---

A sharp knock on the door to her apartment startled her. She checked the time; it was 2 am. Dread filled her entire body as she slowly made her way to the living room, peeking out of the peephole. The dread washed away entirely as she opened the door and swiftly pulled the man inside, shutting the door behind him.

"Bucky?"

"I needed you," he spoke hoarsely. Y/N noticed the dark circles under his eyes, his bloodshot eyes, his tousled hair and his dirty clothes. He had been gone on a mission for the past 5 months; they met 7 months ago. 5 months? Who has a mission that long? The Avengers, that's who. Bucky and Y/N had bonded quite well in the small amount of time.

There were many more things he realized he liked about her; her dancing, her cooking, her apartment, the smell of her laundry detergent, her caring nature, her jokes, her— "Bucky? Bubba, did you hear me?" He blinked a few times and offered her a sheepish smile, shaking his head. "I said, take a bath. I'll leave you some clothes outside."

He agreed instantly and went to her bathroom, hopping in for a quick wash. He cleaned himself with her body wash; it smelled like lavender that calmed him. He had missed her a lot. On the way back home all he could think about was her. He wanted— no, he needed to hold her as he slept to ensure he didn't wake up screaming.

After the shower as he put on the clothes she left for him, he realized something. Walking into the only bedroom in the apartment he saw her looking up from her phone. "Yes, Buck?" He hadn't permitted Sam to call him that, even though he had known the man longer than he had Y/N. "Are these Steve's clothes?"

She went pink and stammered. Bucky's brows furrowed. "Are you dating Steve?" he blurted out and her eyes went wide. "No, I've never dated Steve. It's just that… one time he was on a mission and he needed some place to hide and live for a few days. He lived with me. He left his bag behind and I kept the clothes, for situations like these."

He could tell she was telling the truth. The seventeenth thing he liked about her was her honesty. "Oh, okay." Suddenly a smirk came over her face, which made him nervous. "Were you jealous, Barnes?" It was his turn to blush and he went 10 shades darker than she had. "I— I mean, I— I wasn't, I— I was—" he stammered and she laughed.

"I was kidding! Get in the bed, we're going to sleep." He felt nervous again. "I, um, actually had a… favour, if it's not much, uh, if you don't agree I'll take the couch I promise, but I—" She shushed him. "Spit it out." He exhaled. "Can I… maybe… snuggle with you? While we sleep? Please?" He sounded so soft that all Y/N wanted to do was tell him how much she liked him and cuddle him to death.

"Of course! If it makes you feel better, sure, we can do that. Get in." He took off his t-shirt, hurriedly explaining that he couldn't sleep in them but she brushed him off. He got into the bed next to her and tentatively held his hand out, grinning to himself when she snuggled into his side with a soft sigh.

"You're so warm. It's perfect," she breathed out. Bucky never wanted to let go. "Goodnight, doll," he whispered and pressed a soft kiss to her head as both of them drifted off to dreamland. Bucky dreamt of her. The seventeen things he liked about her as of yet, with many more to come. Like maybe the way she tasted.

The way she would feel under him, around him… He gulped and rid himself of the thoughts; he didn't want a boner right now. You've known this woman for 7 months! Calm down, horny. That night, he slept like a baby, his firm hold on Y/N never wavering. Somewhere during the night her face had pushed itself in the crook of his neck, not that he cared.

One of his hands had landed on her butt while the other cradled her head again. Not that she cared. The next morning, Y/N was the first one up. She tried to get up from the bed but Bucky whined, actually whined underneath her. "Don't go." She giggled and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. "I need to use the bathroom."

Blinking a bit at the unexpected kiss (not that it wasn't welcome), it took him a few minutes to process her words. He let her go then, falling back asleep. He was tired; if he could, he wouldn't wake up for another 2 weeks. Y/N smiled softly when she came out of the bathroom, he looked so peaceful. Let him stay a while longer. She went to make herself some breakfast.

15 minutes into the process Bucky showed up, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

He buried his face in the side of her neck, leaving tiny kisses. "I thought you'd like to sleep longer," Y/N offered, one hand squeezing his arm. "It wasn't the same without you." She giggled as he pulled away, giving him another kiss on the cheek. "You sure know how to flatter women," she snorted and he grinned.

"Not just any woman, you in particular," he winked, sitting down at the dining table as Y/N brought over 2 plates of pancakes. "Consider me impressed, James," she teased back. "When does the bakery close?" he questioned as they both ate. "5 pm, why?" "I'm taking you out on a date," he said confidently.

"What time?"

"6:30?"

"Cool."

After they finished eating, they cleaned up for the day and left her apartment. Bucky offered to drop her to her bakery and she readily agreed, both of them walking down the street hand-in-hand. "I've been wanting to ask you out ever since we met," he confessed and she turned to him. "So have I," she chuckled and he looked at her, another grin forming on his face.

Soon, they reached the bakery and stood outside, simply staring at each other. "So, uh, I guess I'll—" The rest of the sentence caught in her throat as Bucky leaned forward and kissed her deeply. He couldn't hold himself back any longer. Y/N kissed back, smiling when he pulled away. "Can't wait for 6:30," she whispered.

"Neither can I."

And as he walked back towards the Compound, he thought about her, the eighteenth thing he liked about her (her kisses) and the many more things he was sure he was going to like about her in the upcoming months.

---

A/N: Leave a like if you enjoyed, thanks for reading!

[every-dayiwakeup]

another 2 songs, first one is a bit short ! “I Want You” by Mitski ✨ and the second one (who knew this was coming) “Daddy Issues” by The Neighbourhood ☺️

Welcome back 🥰

Alright! Another song to add to my playlist (I love Mitski)! Also this became a bit of an AU interpretation so I'm gonna run with it 😏😏) I'm gonna split this into two posts, but I'll tag you in the other one ofc ❤️

The first part of my interpretation is:

*an AU where Steve, Nancy, Robin, Dustin, and Eddie return to the Upside Down to carry out their part in killing Vecna, and they find someone they know to be dead*

*** Part One: AU***

It's the End of the World As We Know It

I want you

When Billy was killed by the Mind Flayer, that was when Steve realized he loved him. Unfortunate timing, right? As Toto wisely put it, love wasn't always on time. Fuck Toto.

I hold one card, that I can't use

Perhaps it was for the best. After all, it wasn't the right era, either. Even if Billy has survived -if Steve had done more than just watch his body get punctured like a piece of paper- there was no guarantee he loved Steve back. Neil Hargrove died of a "broken heart" (Steve didn't know he had one. Fuck Neil.) and Billy should've been here with him, celebrating the death of the old ball and chain.

Billy deserved to know the perks of a Neil-free life. Max deserved to have her big brother.

It wasn't Steve's loss. So why did he feel so empty?

But I want you

But Billy was gone. Dead. The world would move on without him. Steve just couldn't bring himself to follow suit. Fuck the world.

As it turned out, the world had selective hearing, because it did indeed start to fuck itself. Or rather, Vecna did.

You're coming back

Steve was about to become bat food. He writhes around in vain, because he's supposed to stay alive. For the kids. For Robin. For-

His eyes start to roll to the back of his head, foam spewing from his mouth-

Then the tentacle thingy abandones its hold on his neck, and he breathes in and out, his lungs graciously accepting oxygen like a starving man at an all you can eat buffet.

"Harrington? That you?"

Steve bolts upright, eyes wide. They're watery, but they make out a stocky man with matted hair, and fiery blue eyes.

"Hargrove?" he weezes out in disbelief.

"In the flesh," Billy replies. He's covered head to toe with blood and demo guts, and his wife beater is torn, showing purple flowery scars.

It's logically not possible for him to be alive, but Steve's never been more relieved. Fuck logic. He was friends with a girl who could move things with her mind. Plus Billy Hargrove had proven several times before Starcourt that he was immune to logic in all of it's forms. It's almost scary how fast Steve accepts that he's real.

Billy crouches in front of him, doing what he does best; invading Steve's personal space.

Billy hastily pushes back the hair sticking to Steve's face, and Steve swears he sees tears gathering in Billy's eyes.

"I thought... I thought everyone forgot about me... I tried to-to reach out... but-"

Steve gets caught in the moment, cupping Billy's face in his. He's disturbed by the lack of squish, but make no mistake, it's Billy fucking Hargrove. "Me, forget you? Have you met yourself? You're pretty damn unforgettable, Billy."

Billy's mouth forms a small "o".

"Steve, I-"

"Step away from him, or I'll shoot!" A gun is pressed to the back of Billy's, and Steve tackles him.

"Christ, Nancy! Put that fucking gun away, it's Billy!"

Speaking of, the boy is quivering under him, and Steve shoots Nancy a dirty look as he tries to calm him down.

"This isn't the time or place for a Shakespeare play, Harrington! Take your Romeo and let's fucking haul ass!" Eddie practically screeches, waving his arms around frantically.

Billy barks one of his horrendous hyena laughs, causing the other teenagers jump out of their skin. Robin clutches her heart, her other hand gripping Nancy's and Eddie is hiding behind her, shaking his head like a wet dog. Dustin just stares at Billy, trying to process the fact that the guy who died for them is somehow alive.

There is nothing even remotely funny about this situation. They're probably all going to die here, and the world is in potential peril, but Steve can't help joining Billy with a manic laugh of his own. What a strange pair they must be.

A selfish sliver of Steve is alive, and this part of him is glad that of all the people to die with, Billy Hargrove is one of those people.

But if there's one thing he and Billy have in common... they won't be going down without a fight.

Steve's hand finds Billy's, and he squeezes it. Billy looks at Steve like he's just hung the moon, and the asshole squeezes back harder, a competitive smirk on his grimy face.

Fuck Billy Hargrove.

And it's the end of the world

When they return to Hawkins, their group is one member short, and not even Billy has the heart to crack an ill timed joke.

It was Eddie's wicked guitar solo that told him he wasn't alone. He had smoked a few joints with him before Starcourt (in fact Eddie had made him a mixtape for him after Neil stepped on every CD Billy ever owned). In the short time he spent with Munson, he had grown... fond of the greasy haired metal head.

Eddie understood him in ways that didn't require words.

Apparently even being fond of someone was a fucking crime in the 80s, because Billy had seen what Eddie's plan was before he even cut the sheets. And he just... stood there while Eddie finally decided to pull the hero card.

And Max...

He failed her. He failed to look out for her, and now she was holed up in the hospital. Lucas was by her side. Billy couldn't look at either of the them. The shame was too much. Besides, he wasn't sure Max would want him there anyway.

El the girl he died for, had greeted him with a hug, as though they were old friends.

He supposed they were, in a way. She had been inside his head.

Focus on the positive...

According to the doctor, Max was alive.

Try not to focus on brain dead...

His spunky little sister and the d word shouldn't exist in the same sentence.

Somehow he had seen everything, and he couldn't do anything. He wasn't sure how to explain it. It was like he was there, but he couldn't move.

All he could do was watch. Watch his little sister's bones snap, blood pouring out of her formerly blue eyes.

That hurt more than when she said she wanted bad things to happen to him. When she said she didn't think he deserved to be saved.

Steve pulls up to Hopper's cabin, and Billy is hesitant to get out of the car (he and Robin had stolen it, and he remembered that Eddie taught him how to hot wire).

Steve stays with him, even opening the passenger seat to offer a hand to help him out.

He expects Steve to drop him and go be with his friends, but good old Harrington doesn't leave his side. Neither does El. Funnily enough, Dustin doesn't hide behind the Wheeler girl when Billy nods at him. The mop headed kid nods back, a mutual look of respect and understanding in his red rimmed eyes.

Eddie's death reminds him of a book he read once, in which the author killed off a comedic, cowardly character to signify that shit was getting serious. A harsh graduation from heavenly childhood into the descent of hell.

Argyle, Jonathan Byers' buddy, looks him up and down, then offers him something Billy can't refuse- a blunt. And of course, inevitable conversation. "You're from Cali, right?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, sick! What's your opinion on pineapple on pizza?"

Jonathan, who has decided to take a break from trying to explode Mike Wheeler with his mind, slaps his forehead, groaning loudly at his friend. The weed hasn't kicked in yet for him, then. "Dude-"

"Adds flavor," Billy replies, inhaling the smoke in hopes it will numb his brain so he can't think (and by extension not feel). Argyle is a watered down version of Eddie, and the thought brings him a tiny bit of comfort.

"My man! Up top!" Argyle forgets to actually high five Billy, and stumbles off into the bushes nearby.

"Shouldn't he stay closer to the cabin?" Billy asks Steve.

"He's looking for mushrooms," Jonathan answers for him. "He'll be fine. I think."

The younger Byers gasps, touching the back of his neck.

Billy shudders at the same time, a sudden chill coming over him.

The two Williams look at the sky, watching the sun get swallowed up by dark clouds that signal much worse things than rain.

Curiousity gets the better of the mismatched family, and they gather together on a grassy hill overlooking Hawkins, breaking out into duos; Chief Hopper with Mrs. Byers, Will with Mike, El with Dustin, Jonathan with Argyle, Nancy with Robin, and last but not least, Billy and Steve.

This time Billy's hand reaches for Steve's as red lightning strikes the charcoal sky.

Part 2:

**(And I Feel Fine)**

We're starting over

And I love you darling

And I am done here

T.S. Eliot once said, "What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from."

A year after the Final Battle (or as Dustin dubbed it, an encore no one asked for), and Steve finally understood what that quote meant.

As brutal and heartbreaking as it was, he was finally able to be free from the cesspool of Hawkins, Indiana. The Battle gave him a chance to start over. And of course he took Billy with him, because if anyone deserved to experience that same freedom, it was the Boy The World Swallowed Whole.

Billy, who had to let Max go, because he didn't want her to suffer anymore. Billy, who slowly but surely lets Steve into his fragile heart.

They drive to California, where Steve watches Billy come alive in the sun, his curls turning golden. Like a halo. A real life angel who's stolen his wings back, but never needed them to fly. Steve tells him so, and Billy hides his red face in his hands, muttering "You're a fuckin' sap, Harrington."

Steve was learning all of Billy's little quirks, and he couldn't have any of that without the gift of Starting Over.

At the same time, Billy was learning new things about himself, as well as rediscovering parts of himself he never thought he'd see again.

You're in the house, and I am in the car

Of course couples (or whatever they were) fought sometimes, and they were no different.

Despite Steve insisting he's not a burden, Billy doesn't always believe it. He fires back telling Steve he deserves better than someone who is damaged. His body is scarred and soft in places that weren't before. His hands have done horrible things to the people he loves.

It becomes a ritual of some sorts, where Billy's fears and insecurities are layed out for Steve to see, and Steve focuses on what's eating at him.

If it's his scars or stretch marks, Steve traces them, saying they tell a story, and that he would happily read it for the rest of his life.

Billy isn't sure what to make of that one.

If it's the scar he gave Steve at the Byers house, the older man tells him that it escalated, and Steve would have done the same thing if he were Billy.

If it's nightmares... they both get them. So they hold each other. Steve gets a therapy dog, and Billy adopts the kitty that fell out of a tree and landed in his mullet.

If it's his "fluff" as Steve calls it (Billy prefers it because it makes him feel cute), Steve cuddles with him. Sometimes they have naked days, where Steve traces words onto his soft skin that make Billy come undone.

If Billy's not in the mood for Steve to see him, Steve distracts him by making him laugh.

He tries to compliment Billy on traits that aren't physical, like his bravery, his big heart, his frat boy sense of humor, his Joe Pesci impression... (there's more, but Billy has a short attention span sometimes so Steve keeps it short).

I just need a quiet place

Where I can scream I love you

To no one's surprise, the first time they confess their love for each other out loud, its during an argument.

It's a silly argument that started because Billy is in a particularly annoying mood where he's being childish (and confident) and Steve just wants to fix his hair (and mope because Billy has a date tonight, and it's not with him- even though he has a date too).

Feeling ignored, Billy pouts and grabs his brush, singing "Catch me if you can!" and proceeds to run around their house in socks.

"Dammit, Hargrove, I have a date tonight!"

"You were in the bathroom too long! I have to get ready, too!"

"Then use the other bathroom!"

"I don't want to!"

"Why not? Jesus, Hargrove, just give me the damn brush!"

"No."

"No?" Steve repeats, growing angrier by the second. "What the fuck do you mean, no? Do you have a problem with me going out on a date?"

Billy's plump lips snap stubbornly shut at and the two boys glare at each other. It's just like high school all over again.

"Use your words, Hargrove. What about your date? Shouldn't you be getting ready?" Steve can't keep the scornfulness out of his voice.

Billy, the perceptive bastard that he is, raises a clearly mocking eyebrow.

Why does he have to be so fucking pretty?

"I don't have time for this." Steve makes to yank his brush out of Billy's hand.

"I don't have a date tonight," Billy mutters so quietly, Steve almost doesn't hear him.

"What?"

"I lied. Are you happy now? Have fun on your date, Harrington." He thrusts the brush at Steve, who's objective has shifted to Billy's kicked puppy face.

Steve groans, throwing his hands in the air, as he often does when his brain is overwhelmed by new bits of information. The sudden movement startles Billy, and he backs up, slipping on the hardwood.

Steve stops him before he hits the floor with one hand, and he's thankful for whatever possesses him to pull Billy into his space. He's delighted to spot more freckles dotting Billy's fuller cheeks. He smells like cigarettes and cherries.

Does he taste like cherries, too?

But when I stepped through,

There was no floor

True to Harrington fashion, however, he puts his foot in his mouth. "Why did you lie? Billy?"

"Doesn't matter." Loosely translates to I don't matter.

"Why don't you want me to go on a date?" Steve presses. "Billy, goddammit, talk to me!"

"Because you're supposed to go out with me!" Billy roars, voice cracking.

"Well, I want to go out with you, too!"

"I- what?"

"Billy... I. Want. To. Date. You."

"But-"

"No buts- Stop laughing, I'm trying to confess here!"

That shuts Billy up, and he watches Steve hopefully.

"You've always been something to me. But the thing is... I've never been satisfied."

Billy stiffens, ready to insult him, but Steve pushes on, "Because you're a force of nature. A hurricane. Larger than life, and I knew right then and there I wanted all of you. You were my rival, my hero, my crush, my friend, my roommate... And I want you to be... my partner in crime. My only partner in crime."

Billys eyes grow comically wide, oceans of emotion, absorbing every word. "If we're partners in crime... does that mean we can... kiss?"

"We can do a lot more than kiss. I want you, in every conceivable way."

Billy grins from ear to ear, pink from his face to his neck. "Harrington, you sly dog-"

Steve kisses him. Its not particularly romantic, and their noses are smushed together, but it's perfect.

"I guess you could say... you fell for me?"

"I want a divorce."

"My, my, Hargrove, it sounds like you see us getting married some time in the future."

"S-shut up!"

I love you darling

Is what their wedding vows say ❤️

Tags list:

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@ouizzyharringrove

@lovebillyhargrove

@harringroveho

@wixterirox

@hardestgrove

@suspiciouslackofclowns

@polaris-talks-fandom

@emeraldwitches

[gruesomejack]

Rabbit's eyes widened, and a soft blush crawled across his cheeks and nose. He'd been backed into a corner in prison, talking almost every day to a psychiatrist or doctor who wanted to pick his brain. Reporters, writers, documentarians-- He spent the last years stuck having more conversations than he ever had in his life. It hadn't occurred to him that the ease at which words fell from his lips would be strange to Alex, but it made sense. Alex had caught him after fifteen years of near silence. It was him that made him want to talk again in the first place.

Rabbit felt his heart flutter at that grin and dipped to give it a quick kiss. He'd missed that smile. The hug caught him off guard, but he immediately returned it. Squeezing him tight, he kissed at his hair, nosed his temple, and nodded again. "I promise. I promise you, I'm never leaving your side." He whispered, voice shaking. "They'll have to kill me, Alex. I made a mistake, I know I did. I should've tried harder that first time to stay with you." Swallowing, he shook his head. It was over and done with now; he couldn't change the past, but he could solidify their future. "I want to marry you. I know we can't, really, but I want to be yours in every way I can be. I knew it'd be you when I dragged you in from that snowstorm." Rabbit picked his head up again and laughed, "I was in love with you before then-- Honestly, after our first kiss. But it was that moment that made me sure you were going to be the one I let change my life." Searching his eyes, he brought a hand up to hold his face again and wipe away his tears. "I love you too, Alex. And I'll play for you every day for the rest of our lives if it makes you happy." He said, "I am... very rusty, though. I haven't touched a guitar since before the trial."

Sitting up, he finally shifted out of Alex and let out a soft breath at the feeling. Rabbit stayed close, his hands roaming down his body, just looking him over and admiring. "Mine's probably gone anyway. I heard from a kid in prison that the teenagers completely trashed the cabin." He said, his expression falling. "I was going to stop there just to see, but they would've caught me. I'm not really sure I want to anyway..." Looking at his face, his eyes grew soft again. "...Did she live long? Was she happy?" He asked his eyes briefly, shifting to the Rottie nearby. "I... I know you took her in." Rabbit's chin trembled a little, but he blinked back the tears and took in a deep breath. Before Alex came around, Baby was the only living thing he cared about. It broke his heart to know he couldn't take care of her for her whole life. She was his baby and... she deserved better than an owner who got himself swept up into prison. "Sorry, if that's too sad. I just-..." He missed her too.

The news was still playing on the living room TV, but Alex had it muted. The story had broken last night and was only sporadically updated to inform that the Jack Rabbit was still nowhere to be found, to warn against approaching him if he was sighted. At some point in the early morning the sheriff's office had called to ask if Alex knew anything, but he didn't, and he wouldn't have told them anyway. He kind of wanted to know where this would go.

If Rabbit was smart, and Alex knew he was, he's been getting the hell out of town. That cabin of his was the first place they'd go looking for him, and a part of him knew Rabbit might try to return to it just to scrounge for supplies or out of nostalgia, but he hoped he didn't. No, for Rabbit to have a real chance at staying gone, he needed to get gone as soon as possible. Alex didn't want to ever hear that he'd been found.

Sipping at a coffee, he sat on the couch, Bo's head in his lap and his eyes still on the screen. He'd intended to make himself busy doing.. anything else, but his eyes kept going back to the news. They were running a story now about something entirely unrelated, which probably meant there'd been no updates at all on Rabbit. That was good. Probably. Alex's heart wanted to squeeze, thinking of the man heading further and further away, that even if he'd won himself some freedom for a time, he was still gone from Alex's life, but he'd done his mourning already. With all the years between them, Alex was barely more than a spectator now, as much as every other family spying on the news for updates was. There was no good reason to think he was involved in Rabbit's life anymore.

Idly, his hand reached up to grasp at the chord of the whistle that still hung around his neck, a little chipped in places from the years of staying with him. He pulled it from underneath his shirt and looked down at it, frowning. He'd just been an easy fuck. And Jack had been lucky, because it hadn't been so easy for anyone since then. He thought, far from the first time, that he should get rid of it.

Bo barked. Alex startled, dropping the whistle and looking up at the dog with a frown. "Buddy, I've told you--"

The rottweiler sat up, his ears alert and his gaze darting towards the door. He barely gave Alex a moment to try and stop him before he was launching himself off the couch and barking again while he ran to it. Then he stopped, hackles raised, and growled deep. Alex started to follow him, brows furrowing. Bo had growled at things before, sure, but--

There was a knock at the door. Alex motioned with his hand for the dog to stay, then approached it slowly. Probably someone from the sheriff's office, he decided, before tugging the door open.

@cruentus-leporidae