#the embrace of despair of it all because you can't see anything else for yourself anymore. and you kill a guy about it

[vaguely-concerned]

peter benson as henry vi adding a mirthless little laugh after the second half of 'may god forgive my sins, and pardon thee', as if to add on the sentiment of lmao fat chance!! on his way out, was such an inspired choice hfkjdsah. also very sad of course. (in the 1965 version henry seems so genuine when he says that, and it's just like... what a quiet triumph it is, in the middle of black despair, that what's gentle and good in him somehow survived through everything right to the end. he's lost everything, but it hasn't changed who he fundamentally is. and what other victory can we hope for in this life when it comes right down to it. while in the 1983 version there is the sense that something has broken inside him with this last blow, with the death of his son.)

[lost-jams]

Brushes And Beats chapter 13

pairing: JiminxReader

genre: fluff with a pinch of angst

trope: enemies to lovers

:ever thought of the past and wished to re-do it?:

Jimin's Pov

3 years ago,

December 20th, 2020;

We were shooting the music video for my latest single, we are currently on location with snow-covered mountains and sea beneath us. The cold air nipped at my skin, but it was nothing compared to the storm brewing within me whenever she was around. I must have gone truly crazy, to have my temperature rise in this cold weather whenever she was nearby.

What the hell is wrong with me? It was just an ordinary day on set, and It was pretty normal to have my makeup done by her, Why am I feeling this way?

I couldn't help but let out a sharp breath whenever I passed by her, catching a glimpse of her beauty reflected in the mirror as she focused on perfecting each stroke of makeup on someone else's face. Her presence was captivating, and I found myself drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

The sun was setting on the horizon, casting a warm glow over the snowy landscape, mirroring the warmth that blossomed inside me whenever I caught sight of her smiling face. All of us gathered around taking in the breathtaking scenery,

In the embrace of my thoughts, my hungry gaze fell ravenously on Y/n. She was but a silhouette against the horizon, bathed in the softness of the setting sun's goodbyes. The captivating sparkle in her eyes mirrored the cosmos, outshining the stars that the coming night was slowly weaving into the azure tapestry above. I was entranced, ensnared in the mesmerizing dance of twilight in her gazed-upon irises.

Cheeks kissed by the day's frosty lullaby were painted a shy rosé, warmed by the departing sun's final ballet of light. A touch of the same color graced her nose, glowing with an innocent vibrancy that sent an unspoken invitation to join her in the intimate communion with the sun's final sonnet. She was a silhouette of perfection, adorned in the last vestiges of grand illumination the world held onto.

Each soft tendril of her hair nonchalantly brushed aside, teased a melody in the temperate breeze. The last strokes of sunlight obediently traced each curve of her features. She was ethereal, as if an angel graced the earth with her presence, whispering a sonnet to the horizon.

I felt my heartbeats playing a symphony of longing, each beat whispering her name. The simple sight of her — absorbed, resplendent, enchantingly immersed in the golden goodbye — pricked at my untouched sentiments, each a couplet of a love poem waiting to be read. This perfectly framed vista of Y/n, serenading the setting sun, unleashed a profound fervor in my chest, a feeling so powerful, it threatened to consume me entirely. Her rapture in the sunset acted as a catalyst, alchemizing my longing into a feeling I can't explain — It was something you have to experience yourself

It's a Serenity

It is Magical

It's an Epiphany

One's Serendipity

A Euphoria

It is Passion.

2 months later,

"Birdy you thinking about flying?"

"Y/n?"

"Y/n get away!!"

Seeing Y/n standing at the edge of the cliff, my heart clenched in my chest. The paleness of her face haunted me; a stark contrast to the striking landscape behind her amplified by her despair. The wind whipped through her hair as she gazed into the abyss, a testament to how she must've been feeling inside. Anger surged through my veins as I thought about the pain that was inflicted on her.

Panic surged through me as she was very close the edge of the precipice. She was looking down, silhouetted against the chilling winds, her frame unyielding yet ominously fragile. My heart pounded in my chest like a wild drum, each beat ringing with enormous fear and unsettling anger.

Fear, because the mere thought of her plummeting into the abyss was a horror I couldn't bear. Her potential brush with danger stoked a protective instinct in me, stronger than anything I'd ever known. I was paralyzed by this sudden jump of adrenaline, my breathing came ragged and uncontrolled.

And anger, not at her, never at her, but at the world that had pushed her to teeter on the edge of despair. I was filled with a rage so potent, it threatened to consume me. My stomach churned with it, my fingers clenched involuntarily into fists. How cruel could the universe be, to leave a scar on someone as beautiful and kind-hearted as Y/n? The unfairness of it all made my blood boil.

"No..." I whispered, my plea carried away by the cold wind. I forced myself to move, panic lending me speed. "Not her. Not Y/n." That moment, the image of Y/n standing lonesomely at the precipice seared into my memory, a terrible echo of my deepest fears and anguishes.

______________________________________________________________

"Your recklessness wouldn't affect just you. It also affects the people around you. But you never think about it, do you?”

"Jim-"

"Save it, Y/n"

I snapped, my frustration boiling over. My words carried a sharp sting, fueled by the fear and anger that had been bubbling beneath the surface. It was an outburst I instantly regretted, but in that moment, the weight of my emotions overwhelmed any semblance of control. As the words left my lips, a heavy silence settled between us.

As we stood there, locked in a silence filled with tension and regret, I could see the hurt flickering in Y/n's eyes. Her expression softened, a vulnerable glimmer of pain shining through. My heart sank at the sight of her wounded gaze, and guilt washed over me like a tidal wave. It had me face to face with those parts of myself that I had tried to bury, to dismiss. And what’s worse is, in that moment, I realized that my outburst stemmed from my own insecurities and fears.

That year was undeniably the longest and most grueling I'd ever experienced. Time seemed to stretch into an unending void, each day filled with silence where once laughter and conversation had occupied.

Work, which I had once loved as an exciting escape, started to feel more and more like a cumbersome chain. The pressure to continuously perform and improve felt colossal, only amplifying the deafening quietness in my personal life. Every performance, every firm handshake, and smile gradually became harder to produce, the echo of Y/n's absence a constant reminder of my failings.

The ceaseless demands of my career began to weigh on me, a relentless movement of days marked by hectic schedules and sleepless nights. The glamour and fame, which once exhilarated me, now felt draining. And Y/n's absence hung over me, a specter that was invisible to others, but painfully evident to me.

Regret was a constant sting, gnawing at my calm, reminding me of the words I should've said, the solace I could've offered. Y/n's face would uninvitedly creep into my thoughts, her glossy eyes shimmering with withheld emotions and hushed sighs. My heart would turn into a turbulent sea besieged by a surge of regret and self-reproof. I had let my fear, cloaked in anger, push her away.

Loneliness — my forever friend — had cast a daunting shadow over me. Surrounded by throngs of fans and yet, an unsettling hollowness prevailed, rendering me isolated in a crowd. That's when I realized the intensity of my feelings for her. Her absence wasn't just a missing friendly face; it was the missing piece of a puzzle that completed me.

The dread of losing her even as a friend, the heart-wrenching despair of not being able to help the person you care about began eating away at me. It was a painful lesson learned

in the harshest way; a year of harrowing solitude and introspection, interspersed with rigorous work demands. But within all of it, a realization hung heavily - I loved her, no I love her. And that love enveloped every strand of my being, defining the extent of my sorrow in her absence

One year passed without much interaction between us. She needed her space, and I had tight work schedules. The occasional glances we exchanged were often filled with unsaid words, and unexpressed emotions. Looking back, I should have pushed aside my professional commitments a bit more. I could have been there for her in a way that was more than just professional. I would have held her close and told her that it was okay to fall apart because she was not alone.

She never was.

to be continued...

chapter 12 || chapter 14

[msanonymous]

Dear Mother...

Here are some things I never told you, but I hope you get to know them one day. I don't like tea, but I love it when I get to have it with you. All day I look forward to you coming back home from work and asking me "You want a cup?" I'm not a big fan of it but if it's with you it's the best thing I can ever have. So I nod anyway, besides anything made by you doesn't taste bad. I love how you carry those two steaming cups, always the one with maroon stripes for me (because it's my favourite, how do you remember that every day?) and plain white one for you. Some days a tray filled with cookies, you made. I love how we sit down together on the floor and unwind. You tell me all about how your day went at work. I love those stories, even if I don't know a lot about those characters you meet every day. But in them, I always find you the kindest one, how do you do it? When everyone else never leaves a chance to be cruel to you? You always put yourself at last. Sometimes I hate you for that. But then when I do it myself, it is not so bad. But you. You deserve to be at first.

You never forget to remind me of things. "Here, take your vitamin D supplements." "Take this admit card you forgot it on the table." "Take extra care today, your body is not doing well." "Call me if you don't feel good." Yet when it comes to you, you forget that you're a human too. Who needs care. When Father was telling me to be kind to others, you sat beside us and said "Don't forget to be kind to yourself first. You're human too." And I wondered only if you followed that advice. Would you be happier today? Would you smile more? I love your smile. Please never stop doing that. I know I don't say that often, but I really do. And I really love you.

But sometimes the things you do break my heart a little. Like whenever I come home and find you on the prayer mat, with your hands raised and eyes filled with tears. I wonder who you are praying for. And when I ask you that after you spread your hands on your face. I always hope that this time your answer would be "For me". But every time you smile and say "For you". I just don't get it, how could you be so selfless, after what this world did to you. And I know 'A mother's prayer is like an arrow that never misses its target.' But it wouldn't hurt to ask for a little happiness for yourself. But I guess I learned that thing from you now: To be selfless. "Because our Lord loves it, because our Prophet lived and taught us to be that way." When you said those words to me, in my heart some things shifted too. You don't ask me, but if you ever did. "Who are you praying for?" My answer would also be "For you."

And when in gatherings when people say to me "You look just like your mother." I look over your side and think what similarities they see? Because you're something so beautiful like an art work crafted with glass. While I look like glass shards, someone closed their fist around, maybe someone really did.

A few days back we had a conversation. After my physician told you that I might be depressed. You asked me to sit down beside you at the edge of the bed, and said "Am I the reason, your heart is in despair?" And I shook my head with tears flowing, eyes. Because how could you ever think of that. My heart is always in joy because of you. You never treated my heart like the world did. Because of you my heart is still beating. It was never you, it'll never be you. But I didn't have the courage to say that. That's what I am. A coward. And I can't wrap my head around the fact how you still love me despite that. I asked you at that time with my hoarse voice "What if I fail?" You didn't answer right away, you just embraced me in your arms and said "You won't, I prayed to my Lord for you, he won't neglect my prayers, and even if you did. I'd still love you"

'But what about the world?' I wanted to ask. But I didn't, cause the world never loved me in the first place. And after all, it's you that matters more. "You know, at umrah who I prayed for the most?" You said holding me. And I shook my head. But in my heart I hoped that the words you'll utter will be "For me" but no you said "For you" instead and the dam broke yet again, my heart ached for you. Why mother? Why did you have to put me before you? After that you stroked my hair and said "Come on now, go get fresh we'll have dinner" and the words I said next took me by surprise. I confessed, "I don't like eating these days, Mother." With concerning eyes you smiled and said "What about drinking your favourite drinks then?" And I laughed and nodded my head. And from that day onwards you never forgot to hand me the glass filled with smoothies, coffee and what not. And as I'm writing this in my room, the sound of your blender from the kitchen is accompanying me, yet again.

I wonder how you never forget once a day to love me. Yet the world does every day. And just know that, when Allah Subhanahu Wa Ta'ala will call me to that place, I'll go there just to pray for you. And after my return if you'll ask me "Who you prayed for the most?" My answer would be "For you". I'm not going to lie. If I could have one prayer that wouldn't go unanswered and would become true. I'd pray for this world to love you, the same way you do.

[bell-the-reader]

“I love you too much.”

“But not enough to let me go.”

You stared at them for a long moment, your frustration dissipating as your heart pounded loudly in your head and your lungs felt heavy with every breath. They were right, as always. That you needed to let go of them, you needed to say good bye, and if you didn’t your own guilt in holding them back will consume you from the inside out.

But you didn’t want to let go of everything. The comfort of their warm embrace and the way their smile makes you want to smile or how the two of you would play around together before the world takes us apart.

But was it ever meant to last?

You are too stubborn to believe what your heart already knows, that it has been long overdue to let them go like a breath you have been holding on to because you were scared of drowning. That the time you had was over with but you are so scared. Scared that once you let go of them, they will take everything from you and you will be a husk of what you were. Reduced to a ghoul because they were your joy and love and they will be gone.

But it doesn't have to be that way.

And although it hurts, although you feel like your heart is tearing, you release that breath that has been fighting to be released from your chest. A ragged, shaky breath as you find it in your heart to let go. Because you want to see them happy, to find joy and love and despair and frustration and overcome all their struggles. Because they deserve the world and so much more, they deserve as much good fortune as possible.

But you also find that you want that for yourself as well, that you want to succeed in life and find your own happiness. That you will not lose yourself because no one can own you. That your love for anyone and anything isn't determined by someone else and your ability to love can't just be taken by someone.

Yes, at this moment it hurts. It hurts like a heavy weight on your chest, but it is worth every ache knowing that you loved and loved honestly. Every part of those moments was full of trust, honesty, compassion, and love. You have those memories to cherish and no one can take the truth from them.

The pain will ease, and the hurting will stop but your love for them will remain a choice and if you keep choosing love over anger or grief, then you will find yourself with a fulfilling life.

"No. I love you and myself enough and more to let go."

“I love you too much.”

“But not enough to let me go.”

[makingspiritualityreal]

A few personal Conclusions I've made concerning houses 2, 3, 8 and 12 in Astrology, and their Mutual Aspect.

Today, I truly understood why the 2nd house is 3rd from the 12th. In the 12th house, we are connected to everything and everyone. We experience constant bliss through swimming in a cosmic ocean of infinity. We experience universal, unconditional kindness. The 2nd house has a completely different nature to that. The 2nd house is in its essence about separating yourself from everything and everyone else and creating limits on what is exclusively yours. So going from the 12th house to the 2nd house requires courage (3rd house) because it means embracing being separated from the collective flow. You have to do things by yourself, for yourself and detach yourself from the consciousness of Universal interconnectedness in order to focus on you as an individual puzzle piece.

That can feel scary and lonely, because in the 12th house you're always surrounded by energy from all sides and the energies are very dispersed. The 2nd house is very focused and grounded, and has no time to even perceive that level of a mass scale event of consciousness and connection because it is busy dealing with what it has tangibly in front of it. So it feels like a downgrade of sorts...where in the 12th house you felt like you had everything and didn't need to do anything to feel like you have everything at your disposal, but in the 2nd house you have to fragment yourself enough to hyperfixate on a particular element. It makes you feel like an infant torn from its mother's womb...a sudden disconnect, a call to grounded action that wakes you up from pleasant slumber.

I believe there is a reason I was born with this alignment though, and there is a reason why cosmically these houses have gains from each other, and why the courage this house-to-house relationship requires is worth it. The infinity of the 12th house is made of a billion puzzle pieces. The 12th house is only as perfect as much as you put in effort in all the houses preceding it. If you don't wake up long enough to make sure your individual worth is taken care of...the quality of your rest will be inferior to what it could be. That's why we invented the term restLESS, because we feel like there is something we should have done or we should be doing that we're not doing. You can't rest properly, if you haven't made enough effort to put worth in yourself... including your own well being.

The 12th house is respectively 11th from the 2nd house. The 2nd house aspires to be where the 12th house is. It's the 2nd houses wish fulfillment to see the seeds it planet grow into the abundance of the 12th house. But if you don't do the work to tend to these 2nd house seeds and never tear yourself away from the 12th house bliss, you never get the opportunity to truly appreciate how far you've come, and you don't get to enjoy to see your dream materialised.

Even though I conceptually understand that, I have to admit I'm terrified. This is the first time in my life that I've been so alone. I live alone, meet one friend for a few hours a day, try to do everything for myself as much as I can with what I have...and I habitually panic and feel lonely, missing that connection I would love to have with others, that feels so natural to me. But I've paid an insanely high price for not valuing myself enough for who I am, and I've given away too much in the past to people who didn't value or respect the boundless compassion I offered at all. That is a painful wake-up call, taking me away from my Jupiter happiness. I feel hopeless and in despair about it, that all I wanted was to give something good that would benefit everyone, and I got so severely punished for it. But that's what courage is, going into unknown territory, without any certainty of what you will find there. And I firmly believe, that whatever I find forward is better than what I leave behind. It is hardly a valuable contribution to constantly give where you're not appreciated. And whatever I make of myself, I will eventually use to give something even better to the world, this time in a way that doesn't let anything go to waste.

[mafaldaknows]

I am a real rape victim and I want to give my voice in the situation with the allegations against Armie Hammer. I realize that all people are different and every victim goes through the consequences of rape in her own way. But there are still some common basic signs that are inherent in all real victims. I will not convince you of anything or urge you to take sides. Make your own review, compare, analyze and form your own opinion. Observing the situation, I've identified several points that I find very strange and that cause me major doubts:

1. Talking about the rape on social media over and over again

Act of rape is one of the most horrible things that can happen to a woman. And no matter how many years have passed, any talk about it and any memory will bring you back to that day, bring all the humiliation, fear and hopelessness back. Therefore, a real victim tells about rape only if it is really needed - in the police, in court or in support centers. But such person won't talk about it in detail every day on social media. Well, maybe the "kittens" were trying to warn or protect other women. I think if that was the case, they would have taken serious actions from the start.

2. Change of the story

Yes, time passes and you can forget some small details. But if you were really raped, you would always remember it. You can't let it go easily both mentally and physically. You will not confuse this experience with anything else. So the real victim can't say that maybe I was raped, or maybe I wasn't.

3. Use the rape topic to gain fame

Perhaps this point causes me the greatest indignation. Sexual violence is a really serious problem that many women face. This is a disaster and a misfortune, after which it is very hard to get back to a normal life. But I didn't notice that the "kittens", before the Armie Hammer case, were running some online campaigns to support rape victims. All I see is that they have become popular and have lots of followers on social media. Sorry, but I think it's like a blasphemy. If you want to become rich and famous, there are other opportunities to take.

4. Being mean and rude to people online

If you ask me in what way have I changed since the rape happened to me? I'd say that I became very sympathetic to all the people around me. I became afraid to offend someone, hurt someone's feelings, misunderstand someone. Because I know what misery, suffering and despair are. And when I saw how "kittens" could rudely respond to people in online talks, I got very surprised.

5. Talking about physical details

I sometimes tell other women about what happened to me to support them. But I don't tell them exactly how I was raped. If you have photos with bruises or scars, hand them over to the police and the court. And if you want to support other victims, they don't actually need the physical details. They need empathy and a hand that will help them get out of the hole and live a normal life again.

6. Dating a rapist

You know, more than ten years have passed since what happened to me. And to this day, I don't want to hear my rapist's name. Because there's a wound in my soul, that is only partially healed. Every memory opens that wound again. A real victim of rape wants to forget the abuser forever.

I want to embrace all the real victims of rape out there. Yes, therapy helps, time heals, but your life will never be the same and the pain will never go away completely. I wish you to distance yourself from your past as much as possible. I also wish that in the situation with the accusations of Armie Hammer, both truth and justice will prevail.

Thank you, Anon, for your courage and insight. ❤️💔❤️

[tsuki-sennin]

Revi-Revi-Revi! Revi-Revi-Revi! Revi-i-ve Shi-ppu! Shippu~!

Yeah I know that's pretty obvious, but hey! Revice Ep. 15 is out! I'm gonna get all the obvious jokes I can out before things go horribly, horribly, horribly wrong!

Spoilers, I guess...

-OH, I SEE. She's the only sacrifice while the rest of you chumps get to rule over everyone else with Gifu. ...y'know, maybe you should've kept this under wraps, just saying. You guys are dumb cult leaders.

-Kick his ass, Julio!

-"Atemi!"

-Oh yay, it's Christmas~!

-OH FUCK IT'S CHRISTMAS-

-Okay, everybody, remain calm! As long as we don't progress anything, we should all get out of this alive!

-Where's my Christmas Ducky, Ikki-nii? :c

-It's Christmas, Sakura! You need to relax a little bit, homegirl.

-Remember the series's first ever Christmas special back in 1971 where Colonel Zol accidentally stole a doll from an orphan and decided to kill her because she was a witness to his plan to use a virus to turn everybody in the world into furries? Remember when that was the episode where Hayato punched him off a cliff and he fucking exploded? Death and Christmas really do go hand in hand with this franchise.

-Does Santa taste like eggnog, milk and cookies, peppermint, and fruit cake? Probably.

-Why would you subject yourself to that, Papa!? Do you know what allergy season is like!?

-Oh right, the Gifu stamp. They kinda need that thing, don't they?

-Soooo, George, did Chameleon Guy not see you put that big-ass piece of moldy cheese on it or what?

-Sakura, no. That's a terrible idea.

-Ah yes, the famous Vice swing I've been seeing last week. I wanted to wait to see what that was about, but that is the least unusual thing about this scene.

-There has to be a better way to call in Kagero than just kicking him out. ...or kicking him in, I guess? I'm no expert on demons or dissociative disorders, but I don't think this'd help endear him or Daiji to your plans.

-Oh, never mind, he just... really likes super spicy curry, I guess.

-Oh hai Daiji, welcome back! ...

-We're eating yakiniku tonight~! That's a favorite dish of Tsunagizu lead singer Taro Sato, you know!

-Nya~!

-OH boy, time for the Giftex to make me feel gross again~!

-Oh wow, that pulsating mass has some... distressingly familiar colors, I see. That cross of fire we carry burns real hot this season.

-Do you have to be so unbelievably creepy, dude?

-Man, fuck Gifu! All my homies hate Gifu!

-Don't give up in despair, Julio! What the hell, man? You gotta keep going, they're only four guys!

-Their freaky cult hideout is called Club Freedom are you shitting me

-Gracias, Deadmans!

-Oh boy, this is gonna go completely fine with no issues whatsoever!

-Oh that's a thicc evil shadow arm!

-Stop being impressed George, this place is fucked up!

-HOOHOOHOOOOOO IS IT ALMOST CLUB FIGHT TIME!?

-Reject Gifu. Embrace Lovekov.

-OH FUCK CHAMELEON GUY CAN COPY RIDER FORMS

-...at least Vice's.

-Is this like the Showa era's disguised Rider monsters like Coelocanth Kid or Chameleon Phantom? ...what am I saying, of course it is! But is this like a Verde thing too? Because that'd be very cool if it was both.

-Okay, that was funny. Well played, Kinoshita.

-OHHHHHHH THAT LOOKED PAINFUL OW MY BACK HURTS

-LET'S GOOOO HIROMICCHI

-YESSSSSSSS! KIIIIIIIIIILL!

-Best said in a Steve Harvey voice, of course.

-LET'S FREAKING GO ALL OUT!

-You're gonna carry that weight.

-So, has Jeanne been kicking the shit out of Amahiko this whole time? Because if so I'm very disappointed I didn't get to watch it.

-Sorry Sakura, your English isn't nearly as glorious as Kari-san's yet, but you can get there!

-Sooooooo, Aguilera-sama, did you not know how the Libera Driver worked when you stole it and gave it to Sakura?

-Turtle power! Bazooka-Turtle power, that is! I can't wait to see when Sakura triggers a nuclear explosion, because to be extremely honest, she deserves to for no good reason other than I say so.

-...OH FUCK HE SEES IT

-Oooooh, what's this background track? It sounds great!

-Get fucked, Squid Boy!

-OH NO HIROMI WHAT'S WRONG BRO

-Very rude of my internet to cut out on my while I was getting to the good part, smh

-Double the Arachnid, Double the Venom!

-Just siblings being siblings and also Vice is there :)

-Oh fuck, they're gone. That could happen to someone innocent turning into a Giftex. At least Creepy Counselor Man Amahiko and Sad Sack Lawyer Guy Kudou are dead now.

-Ohhhhhh fuck, they're in there now.

-Oh, George, you are way too happy about that, you need to like... not.

-Wow! Goddamn...

-Ever the good guy, aren'tcha Ikki-nii?

-Yep, guess it's just... up there now.

-HIS FIRST INSTINCT IS JUST TO SUMMON ALL OF HIS DINOSAUR FRIENDS FOR AN ALL OUT ATTACK

-Yeah, that was pretty incredible.

-Ah, neat, Julio's somehow still alive after all that. Nice.

-Ohhhh no, we're only 15 episodes into the season, we're all gonna die soon.

-Fuck the Deadmans, I'm probably gonna spell his name as Jifu as a sign of disrespect.

[heresathreebee]

Brackish and Briny Waters (five)

[Ralph Lamont x Female Reader]

Summary: Ralph apologizes and you've got baby brains, but sometimes life does nothing but kick you down. Previous Masterlist Next

Tag(s): 16+ | 1.7k words | more angst, baby fever, alcoholism, ghostly vibes

AN: GODDAMN Part 5 took me a lifetime to finish. As always no beta readers just poorly side eyeing this by myself and hoping it makes sense

THE NEXT MORNING

You barely stir when you hear the door open. You've all but forgotten last night, and yet you flinch when Ralphie tries to cuddle with you. He sighs somewhere near your ear and hugs you from behind anyways, lips brushing the nape of your neck and breath fanning over your back as he simply lies there, quiet as the grave. 

There's no bruise but you can still feel his hand gripping your arm from last night. "You're being a huge dick…" 

"... I know." 

That is not good enough. You roll over to face him and watch his face twist when he notices the tract marks of dry tears on your face. He swallows and almost unconsciously takes your hand, smoothing his thumb over the back of your palm in a way that was meant to comfort him rather than you. 

"I'm sorry." He opens his mouth again but he flounders for words. After a deep breath he continues. "We can't call Reagan. Because he won't do anything for us…" 

You wait impatiently for him to explain. 

"Sweetheart, if we called Reagan last night, he would have fucking laughed at us. It is step one down that slippery slope to the couple who cried wolf." He put a hand on your shoulder and looked you in the eye, "do you really think he would have done something?" 

You think about it. If Ralph hadn't stopped you from calling him, what would you have said to Reagan? 

I smelled exhaust fumes. Not an emergency, he would say. 

I think he found us. What do you want me to do about it, too late now, he would ask.  

We're in danger. I'll send a squad upstate, they should be there in 4 hours, he would joke. 

"It was real," you insist. "I smelled fumes." 

"I know. I believe you." 

You squint at him threateningly and he doesn't give an inch. He doesn't seem like he's mocking you. 

Ralph could be an asshole, but Reagan was infinitely worse. At least one of them gave a shit about your safety. The realization Ralph was right scared you more than anything. You were alone in this… 

Well, alone together. 

You sigh and bury your face in his neck. Your hair is tangled as shit and probably tickling his face, but your husband simply wraps you up in a tight embrace and holds you against him. It's all the apology you need. 

END OF THE FIRST MONTH

Adjusting to your new life hit you like a sack of bricks early on a Monday morning. You woke up from a dream where you still lived in your tiny little apartment two minutes walk from everything. In a reality which felt more like a fever dream, Ralph was late for work, donning a tie and tweed jacket and kissing you goodbye for the day. 

You never realized how much space there was in the new master bedroom. In the apartment, a queen sized bed nearly touched the walls and barely left room to creep around two night stands and a dresser, but in the new house you had room to lay on the floor and stretch, maybe put another piece of furniture in here like a bookshelf or something. 

And the whole damn house was like that. You had an entire second floor to claim as your own! There is almost too much space… too much space for just the two of you. 

God there's that thought again drifting into your mind unbidden, unfurling like a fern at the first droplet of sunshine. How many people does it take to turn a house into a home? Three should be plenty, your mind offers. 

You busy yourself with measurements, regrouting the loose tiles in the kitchen floor, and scrubbing the blackened hell out of that downstairs bathroom. It seems to come to life beneath your hands and you can feel yourself getting excited to show guests the improvement. 

The thoughts of turning your little twosome family into three persist over and over until you can't stand it any longer. Maybe it's finally time… 

Ralph's late getting home by 5 minutes instead of 5 hours but he still looks tired. No mud tracks on his pants or hard set eyes. He's halfway up the stairs before you realize he's probably going to bed early. 

"Hey!" 

Ralph stops like it pains him. His head sags and his hold on the railing is tight like he'll fall if he lets go. The way he's wobbling he might. He is barely able to meet your eyes as he glances over his shoulder and when he does he simply grunts. 

"I made dinner," you squeeze your hands together behind your back, "angel hair pasta and that sauce you love." 

Ralph's eyes flicker in thought. "Be down in a second." 

You wait nervously to see if he does come down. What if this is a bad idea? What if he doesn't take you seriously? Oh god what if he hates it, what if he calls you an idiot for even considering it? 

Ralph does come back downstairs, hair wild from running his fingers through it. He seems to gain a small amount of energy while eating, not wanting to talk himself but asking how your day has been going. 

You're definitely rambling right now. Ralph listens and listens, chuckling along but at some point he grows concerned and envelopes your hand with a worried expression on his face. "Jesus, I've never heard so many words come out of your mouth at once, it's like you're writing a dissertation over there. Are you OK, baby?" 

You snap your mouth shut. God, you hadn't even come close to talk about kids for all your rambling. And then there was that weird smell… 

Your blood runs cold as you recognize it. You lean a little closer to Ralph and he almost instinctively flinches away. If there's one thing you are sure of, one thing you could swear on god– Ralph Lamont has never flinched away from a kiss before. So he has something to hide. And that something has a sharp scent and explains his slow reactions and tired eyes better than anything else could. 

"Have you… have you been drinking?" 

It's the way he can't meet your eyes when you ask him. You know. It's beyond out of character, so much so that it's confusing and a little frightening for you. 

A little drink here and there is, to you, to be expected especially considering the wealth of your new company. So why hide it? Is there something else he's not telling you?

You suddenly feel sick and too hot, ripping your hand away from his and getting up to leave the table. 

He knows you get in your head sometimes and practically yells your name to stop you. "I'm… I don't know why I…" 

Ralph sighs and buries his face into his hands, ashamed. All this suspense is twisting knots in your stomach. You sit back down gingerly, taking deep breaths to calm yourself down. 

"Ralph," you warn, "you had better start explaining yourself right now before I lose it." 

Ralph stares a hole into the table and worries his lip. The truth is he doesn't know what to say because he doesn't know why he did it. The students are easy, you are easy. Even in the toughest of times, at his lowest, he didn't drink so… what the fuck was coming over him?, he asked himself. 

Something clicked. It rolled like fire in his belly given dry wood, smoking curling to the top of his throat and out of his ears. "They hate me." 

"Who? Who hates you?" 

"Everyone." 

You looked him in the eye for the first time tonight and saw something dark looking in there. It makes you uneasy. "What makes you think they hate you, baby?" 

Ralph's grip on his fork tightens until his knuckles are white before he gingerly sets the dishware down and deflates. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head with a sardonic grin. 

"You wouldn't understand… and how could you? You never leave the house." He looks at you and there's a growing instability rising in his movements. "You… you don't see it. It started out as little nothings that I could ignore because it didn't matter that they didn't like me: I was new.  

"Then it became lots of these little nothings. Staring and whispering and hushed silences. Tip toeing language and poking and prodding and testing me and my limits and it just… it just… it never got better…" 

Rumors. It dawned on you that his frustration seemed intimately familiar to you as you had had to change schools once or twice due to a few terrible rumors that snowballed and got way out of hand. And you can imagine the sort of rumors that accompany a man with little interest in making friends who has a wife nobody knows anything about. 

If you wanted to stay here long, you would need to change a few minds. You set aside your fear for a moment and make him look at you. You can see the unshed tears in his eyes and feel pity for him. 

"I want to do that dinner party," you announce. "With all that's gone on, you probably didn't have the grand introduction you deserve. Let me show them how much you mean to me." 

Ralph's shaking his head but he already knows you'll win this fight. For him it feels like begging for something he doesn't even want. He agrees because he already promised you could when you were ready and you needed to find new friends asap. 

His sleep that night is fitful and the room's shadows seem to reach out like claws seeking his immortal soul. When the haze of whiskey finally dies down in his system he sleeps dreamless and wakes to feel somehow more hollow with despair than before. 

Ralph Lamont has the distinct feeling things are going to get a hell of a lot worse before anything gets better…

@werwulfy @fundamentally-lazy @escape-your-grape @mimiscappinisideblog @go-commander-kim

[evanoracronwell]

I'll be holding on to you

Buddie

"I should have seen it, it was all so obvious Buck, so clear in front of me. It's you, it's always been you."

read on ao3

The second time Eddie opens his eyes, it only takes a few seconds for him to understand where he is. The sunlight coming in through the windows is much clearer than usual, but even so, it is impossible not to notice that he is in his room lying on the bed while staring at the ceiling. The small movement at his side makes Eddie turn around and he catches his breath when he sees who's there with him.

Because it's Buck, a Buck who obviously isn't wearing any clothes on top, leaving all the skin on his chest exposed, lying on his side with his face very close to Eddie. Buck, sleeping peacefully and so beautiful framed by the yellow and orange nuances of the sunlight.

Eddie lies on his side approaching, careful not to wake Buck, until his body is practically glued to Buck's. How many minutes is he there? Just watching Buck sleep?

"You are staring." Buck's husky voice awakens Eddie from his thoughts.

"I'm gazing."

"It's creepy."

"It's romantic."

Eddie sighs when he hears Buck chuckle before opening his eyes, those beautiful blue eyes. Buck gets even closer, sinking his body against Eddie's who welcomes him by wrapping his arms around Buck's waist.

"Good Morning!"

Buck says almost in a whisper and Eddie can't even answer before receiving a soft, gentle kiss on the lips. The touch of Buck's fingers caressing his face makes Eddie tremble. The taste of Buck's lips is like coming home. It's perfect.

"You need to wake up Eddie."

"What? Buck, I'm already awake." Eddie responds smiling without understanding and wraps his arms tighter around Buck's waist.

"No Eddie, you need to wake up."

"Buck ... I don't understand."

"Christopher needs you." Buck has a sad look now and Eddie feels his heart sink with the sadness that Buck is feeling. "I need you. Please, Eddie."

"No! I don't understand, Buck, I'm here! I'm awake."

"Please, Eddie. Come home. We need you ... please."

Eddie despairs when he feels Buck's body being pulled away from him and as much as he tries, Eddie can't move, can't reach Buck. Eddie screams his name, asks, begs him to return ... and then the darkness embraces him again.

The third time Eddie opens his eyes, it's for a white room with low lighting and an intense smell of sanitizer, it doesn't take much more than a few seconds to know that he was in a hospital.

Because he had been hurt. Shot in the shoulder. Again. Excellent.

"Edmundo ?! Oh, sweetheart, you're awake!"

The soft, low voice comes into his ears, and immediately a face appears in front of Eddie's eyes. Ana. His girlfriend. Except that she is not the one he wants. He wants Buck and the warmth that warmed Eddie when he held him in his arms. He wants the light, sleepy smile early in the morning. He wants the kiss ... Buck's loving, perfect kiss.

"Buck !? Christopher!"

"They're outside. He's with Christopher ... I thought ... I thought it should be me here when you wake up."

"Buck ?!"

Eddie says again, his head still a little confused and unable to process everything she is saying, he just knows he wants Buck. Buck is the one who should be here, Buck is the one who should be the first person Eddie would see when he woke up, Buck and Christopher. They are the two most important people in Eddie's life, the two people he loved the most. God, everything was as clear as day now. Always there, exposed in his face so obvious that it is even comical. And suddenly he is no longer confused. His mind has never been clearer before.

"Edmundo, I don't understand ... why ..."

"I'm sorry, Ana. I never meant to hurt you. I swear to you that I really believed that the two of us were right for each other."

"You can't be serious right now. You can't tell me that you really ..."

"We're done, Ana. We should never have even started. I was blind to what was in front of me, and for that, I am so sorry."

"No! You are just confused. It must be the medications and ..."

"Ana, please don't! Don't do this to yourself. It's over. We're over."

"You will regret it. Edmundo. You will realize the mistake you are making and you will regret it."

"I would never regret choosing him, Ana."

Buck hates the hospital waiting room, all right, truth be told, he's always been on the other side of the door. Always the patient. But Buck definitely hates the hospital's waiting room. He had woken up practically with the sun, after almost reading an entire book to Christopher, the child finally managed to fall asleep and Buck refused to leave his side, so at some point he too fell asleep, sitting against the headboard. Chris was still scared and had clung to Buck, refusing to leave his lap even for an instant. So here was Buck, sitting on a chair in the waiting room, with Christopher in his lap hiding his face on Buck's chest while Carla read a book to try to distract him. He wanted to get in Eddie's room, he wanted to see Eddie. He wanted to take Chris to see his father. But Ana insisted that it should be her and Christopher to be there, and when Christopher refused to go with her, and clung more tightly to Buck. Well, the woman just twisted her angry face and walked away, heading towards Eddie's room without giving the slightest chance of anyone saying anything. That had been over an hour ago, and she hadn't left yet. This means that Eddie has not yet woken up, because Buck knows that Christopher would be the first person Eddie would ask to see, so Ana would leave for Christopher to enter. He would just have to wait.

And that was the problem, right?

Buck didn't want to wait.

"What do you think about going to eat something? Aren't you hungry, my love? I'm sure we can find something very tasty in the cafeteria."

Carla's voice awakens Buck from his thoughts and he twists his neck a little so he can look into Chris's eyes, who instead of answering just sought Buck's look.

"That's a great idea, isn't it Superman, you hardly ate your breakfast and I know you must be hungry."

"But ... Daddy ..."

"I will stay here. If he wakes up, I promise I will call you."

"Promise?"

"I promise, buddy."

Carla and Christopher have barely disappeared down the hall when Buck notices Ana coming towards her, her quick steps and red eyes make it clear that she is crying. He stands up worried, but she just looks at him furiously.

"I hope you are happy now."

Then she leaves, saying nothing more and leaving Buck more confused than ever. But whatever her problem was, Buck couldn't care less. He practically runs to the room where Eddie is, and when he walks through the door and sees him there, with his eyes open looking back at Buck, it's such an intense emotion that Buck can't help himself, he bites his lower lip hard and his vision blurs through tears.

"Hey."

"Hey? You almost die on me and everything you say is hey?" Buck lets out a choked laugh and walks over to sit on the edge of the bed.

"You know it wasn't my fault, right?"

"Do you mean different from the time you cut the line?"

"Oh come on Buck, don't do that."

Eddie smiles as he sees Buck roll his eyes, everything looks so much better now, so much simpler now. With Buck here. But it was always like that, wasn't it? Better, easier, brighter. Everything was always better with Buck around, damn it, Eddie had been stupid and blind. There, so close to him all this time.

"You scared me, Eddie," Buck murmurs in a broken voice. "I thought..."

"I know, I'm sorry." With a sigh he reaches for Buck's hand and intertwines their fingers, it feels good, a feeling of warmth that takes over his whole body. "But it's okay now. And I'm happy that you're here."

"Of course I'm here. I was outside waiting for Ana to leave, which by the way, she looked angry when she passed me."

"We're over."

"Oh ... I ... I'm sorry, Eddie. I can't believe she did this to you."

"She didn't. I did."

"I don't understand, I thought I liked her."

"I did, just not enough. She just wasn't the one. My heart didn't belong to her, it belongs to someone else." Eddie smiles, taking Buck's hand to his chest, right where his heart is so Buck can feel his heartbeat at his fingertips.

"Eddie ?!" Buck can't even breathe, his gaze going from Eddie's eyes to their hands.

"I should have seen it, it was all so obvious Buck, so clear in front of me. It's you, it's always been you."

"What are you saying?" Buck mumbles in a choked voice

"That I love you, I'm completely in love with you. And that I'm terrified that you don't feel the same, but I need to tell you. I need you to know that I dreamed of you, dreamed that you were on my side asking me to come back, that I was lost and confused, and that it was your voice that made me find my way back, to you and Christopher. Home, Buck, you and Chris are my home and I love you, I love you so much, and..."

"I love you too."

Buck says the words in a broken and sobbing voice and Eddie can no longer hold himself, he grabs Buck's neck and pulls him towards his lips. He tastes millions of times better than in the dream. Buck tastes like sunlight, strawberries, happiness, and all the good things in the universe. It's wonderful, perfect, and addictive and Eddie could spend all eternity kissing Buck. Eddie sighs loving the sensation of their tongues engaging in a slow and calm dance, exploring the territory, recognizing every little corner of their mouths without any hurry, because they know they will have all the time in the world.

The next few days at the hospital are terrible, Eddie hates every second and can't wait to go home. Christopher stayed with him on the first day, but due to the pandemic, Eddie convinced his son to stay safe at home, promising that they would talk at least twice through face time. Carla is a huge help and stays with Christopher while Buck is working or at the hospital keeping company with Eddie. But at night, Buck goes home to be with Christopher, and the three talks on his cell phone before the boy goes to sleep. The entire 118 family visits, taking turns to make sure Eddie always has someone by his side. It's good, the feeling of having so many people beside him. Eddie always knew that 118 was a big, close-knit family, but at times like this, he realizes how close everyone is.

A week later, he finally goes home. Buck picks him up at the hospital and when Eddie walks through the front door of his house he is met by all his friends, Pepa and Abuela. Balloons and a banner are hanging in his living room. He has a cake with the words: 'No more shoulders left to shoot' that makes Eddie laugh and Hen smile saying that the cake is red velvet.

"It bleeds when you cut it."

He doesn't really understand why it makes Buck laugh, it seems like a joke between the two of them, but Eddie doesn't care at the moment. His whole family is here, he can finally hug his son. They spend hours talking, eating, and laughing while the kids play around the house and then disappear to play video games in Christopher's room. That feeling of having found his place in the world is good, since Eddie decided to come to Los Angeles, his parents have done nothing but question Eddie and make him question himself. But here, surrounded by people he trusts and loves, he has never been more sure about his choice.

The conversation with Christopher is more than overdue, while he was in the hospital, Eddie knew that the boy wouldn't question Ana's absence, but now with Eddie at home, he knows that Christopher would find it strange that the woman disappeared, so after everyone's gone, leaving only him, Christopher and Buck at home. Eddie expects Buck to help his son get ready for bed and goes to the bedroom so they can talk. The conversation is, at the very least strange, Christopher accepts the break-up with Ana well and seems even relieved that his father is no longer dating her and Eddie feels like punching himself for really thinking that Ana was the best for his son. When he says he's dating Buck, Christopher's reaction changes and Eddie can feel his boyfriend freeze beside him. For a few seconds, Christopher looks at them both with narrowed eyes and a confused expression.

"Does that mean Buck is going to spend more time with us?"

"Well, yes, kiddo. He's going to be spending a lot of time with us now."

"Is he going to live here too?"

"No, Chris, I'm not going to live here with you, buddy."

"Maybe in the future, Chris," Eddie responds over Buck, looking quickly at his boyfriend who still looks frozen and doesn't even blink.

"You should move in with us, Buck. Everything's better when you're here. We can eat pancakes every morning."

Christopher says as if it is the most obvious and simple thing in the world, and when Eddie sighs more relieved asking if his son is okay with him and Buck being together, Christopher just laughs and throws himself on Buck's lap hugging him, then he reaches out for Eddie to join the hug.

"I knew Dad. Carla said people who love each other are connected by invisible strings, remember? I knew that one day you and Buck would be able to see the strings connecting you two."

After that everything is so ... simple. So simple that it sometimes scares Eddie.

He didn't know that a relationship could be like that, with Shannon he knew only two settings. Either they were fighting, or they were in bed having sex. With Ana, it was easy. There was no spark, and she always had to initiate any touch.

But with Buck, he knows a type of relationship that he doesn't even know existed. Nothing changes between them, but at the same time, everything seems to change. They still eat pizza and play video games with Christopher, or watch some animated movie that Chris chooses. Buck helps him with school activities and they talk about the books that Chris is reading for the School. They go to the park for Christopher to walk with his skate at times that they know it won't be crowded, Buck pushes the boy through the park practically alone since Eddie can't use his shoulder, but Eddie goes back recording every minute loving Christopher's and Buck's laugh

They still spend hours sitting on the couch talking about everything and anything, but now Eddie lies in Buck's arms sighing every time his boyfriend kisses his temple. Sometimes they simply laid there, not talking at all, just enjoying each other's company. Now when Christopher goes to Hen's house for a sleepover with Denny, the two of them just cook some homemade meal - well, Buck is going to cook and Eddie is just going to watch him because the last thing they need is an accident - so they will set the table in a romantic mood. Eddie will even light some candles and put on some soft music to play, it's the perfect romantic night for them. Sometimes they go out, it is rare that they choose to go out, it is safer to stay at home and they even prefer it. But when they go out, it is never for expensive and extravagant restaurants. No, because with Buck, Eddie doesn't have to pretend. Then they go to the Mexican food restaurant a few blocks from Buck's apartment, or the food truck for them to eat the best hot dog in LA, next to the park where they take Chris to skate. Sometimes they go to an Italian Cantina across town and have fun eating pasta and garlic bread and drinking grape juice since Eddie is still on medication for his shoulder. Now, when Buck spends the night, instead of sleeping on the couch, he sleeps in bed with Eddie and that makes it so much more wonderful. Eddie loved it, when in the morning, when everything was silent and the sun started to pass through the curtain and filled the room with a foggy golden-yellow glow, Eddie opened his eyes and smiled when he saw Buck, his blond hair with messy curls contrasting with the white pillow, admiring the sunlight reflected on it, setting it on fire. He heard Buck's steady rhythm of breathing and counted the almost invisible freckles he had on his shoulders, ran his finger almost without touching the mark above his eye, and fell in love with him again and again. Buck could feel he was being admired and then obviously he would eventually wake up with a beautiful smile as he would bite his lower lip, turn to Eddie and arch his back, stretching and saying good morning. They would kiss slowly for a few minutes, then take a shower together enjoying the hot spray of water, later Buck would make breakfast while Eddie woke Chris. The three of them would have breakfast together and Eddie couldn't imagine a more perfect life.

Almost two months pass when they decide to tell their friends that they are together, it is a barbecue at Athena and Bobby's house and the two arrive with their hands intertwined. Athena is the one who opens the door and she smiles in a way that says thousands of words and when they go down the stairs everyone looks at them for a few seconds

"Well, it was about damn time."

Hen's voice echoes and everyone starts laughing and congratulating them for being together. Chimney wrings his face and complains that they only told them about their dating today.

"Last week, guys, if you've told us last week I would have made some good money, thank you very much."

Eddie and Buck don't quite understand, but they don't care, they just sit on a bench in the garden and Eddie settles against his boyfriend's chest and Buck puts his arm over Eddie's shoulder, and then they embark on a conversation with Bobby that is next to them on the grid. The day is sunny, the children's laughter can be heard all over the house, everyone is having fun and Eddie can't help admiring his boyfriend when Maddie leaves Jee-Yun in his arms.

Days later when he tells Carla at his house, she looks at him with a wise smile.

"I'm glad you finally followed your heart, Eddie."

After his friends, it's time to finally tell his family. Abuela and Pepa are the first and they surprise Eddie. They just smile and show no surprise at the newness. Abuela just holds him by the face with both hands and kisses him on the forehead.

"Tardaste a ver lo que estabas frente a ti, Edito"

His parents manage to surprise him even more. Eddie expected the look of disapproval, he expected a palestra, where his parents would say all the ways Eddie was ruining his life and dragging Christopher with him. But instead, his mother smiles and asks to know more about the relationship, and Eddie tells them everything, he talks about how Buck is good for him and for Christopher, how he cares for them, how Christopher loves to have Buck in his life. His parents listen to everything and then say that they are happy for him and that they hope that the next time they talk on face time, they expect Buck to be with him so that they officially meet him as his boyfriend. When the call is over, Eddie can't help sobbing feeling that huge weight on his heart is gone, he is just grateful to be home alone.

The months drag on slowly after that, the physical therapy sessions are intense and Eddie hates every second of them. He is tired and in pain almost all the time. But Buck is always there, when he is not on a shift he goes to physical therapy with Eddie and participates in each exercise, helping and encouraging Eddie to remain strong and confident. When they go home, Buck always drags him into a nice, long hot shower, they lie down on the bed, and Buck massages Eddie's aching shoulder and back until he is so relaxed and dismounted that he simply passes out on the bed embarked in deep sleep that renews all his energies. It takes a long time, much longer than Eddie thought it would take, and definitely more than he would like it to take. But finally, he has a clean bill of health and can go back to the fire station. He is greeted with a party just like months ago at his house, they celebrate Eddie's return to work for a few minutes until the siren rings causing everyone to run to the truck. Eddie exhales when he feels the fire truck roam the streets of Los Angeles, enjoying the feeling of being back where he belonged. When Buck interlaces their fingers and looks at Eddie with a huge smile, happy to have his partner back, Eddie smiles even more.

Yes, he really was where he belongs.

[bxllafanficc]

A world without heroes

Summary: Loki is imprisoned after the sudden attack on New York and with that, rest of the earth. And while you always thought you would have your lover's back, you find yourself unable to forgive this one. It's time for you to decide when enough's enough.

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x reader

Sidenote: This was inspired by the song "A world without heroes" from KISS. I just immediately though about a moment where reader would be thrown into a deep sea of darkness after finding out the major betrayal lingering beneath many layers of Loki Laufeyson's charismatic persona.

The cold surface of the bulletproof glass is supposed to have a large impact on your wrist as the two objects collide. It's supposed to hurt but it doesn't. The glass is meant to stand and for you to give up. You're meant to lay off and calm down; meaning, stop slamming your fist into the cell like if it was going to break if you just willed your way through.

They say that if you want something enough, you possess the power to do anything. But what do you want to such an extent? More importantly, what does he want? What did he really want? Has he ever wanted any more than a throne to sit on? Or was there something more to it? Did he even know what it really meant? And if so, did he realize the consequences of his actions; not just by the billions of lives he would have destroyed, but his family, yours and especially his own as well.

A part of you wants to believe that he was under some kind of control; that he wasn't really conscious these past days. All the lives he already stole, you want to think that if he had a choice, he would've spared them. You want to believe it all so badly. You want to throw all your common sense away and just collapse into his arms. Give him a tender kiss and gaze into his eyes with lingering warmth like you used to. To forgive and forget.

But the common sense stays where it should be. You can't. Because the past days he's been imprisoned, he's confirmed every action. He doesn't even defend anything; thinks he doesn't need to. Rock-hard believing his decision was the right one to make when he really had no right.

And your eyes are no more tender and soft; but clouded and swollen, piercing through the pair of eyes on the other side of the glass. And your mouth is not tasting the sensetion of sweet lips. Only the salty wetness of your tears pooling like mad rivers.

Your chest feels heavy and about to explode. You need to scream; feel like that's the only solution to relieve the pressure. You almost feel like you're being choked. Choked on love, choked on hope, air, trust, literally everything your life has contained so far.

And the man in front of you doesn't seem to understand how your world is seemingly falling apart before him. The pure confusion in his eyes is twisting your stomach and your feel like throwing up.

"I thought I knew you."

Your sobs has quieted down. Before, you weren't able to speak very well. You just had to wait the storm out until it came rushing back ten times worse next time.

"You do, darling. You always have."

Calm as a snake and laid back. He doesn't even seem to realize that every word spoken will matter in the following moments of actions where you will decide both your fates for him.

"Did I, really? How can you look me in the eyes and say that with your disgusting pride!" You spit at the glass; aim at his feet but it doesn't seem to faze him a tiny bit. You want to bring out a reaction from him, cause maybe then, you would get some sense of honesty out of him.

"My disgusting pride? The world we're living in is disgusting and twisted. How can you even compare midgardians brutality and greediness to Asgards prosperity and beauty?"

You don't want to hear this talk again. Only a couple of years ago, you would have ignored it as just one of his endless bitter rants and thought nothing more of it, not knowing that he was actually planning to find an end to his irritation.

"(Y/n), darling, You have agreed with me on this! We agreed that humans are short minded, only good for the cause of starting a war between their own race and assassinate each other. Their petty little lives are doomed anyway."

You can't even process the amount of irony and hypocrisy seeping through his sentences. You want to scream at him. You want to hold him. You want to cry, give him a piece of your mind. But you want to fall asleep in his arms. You miss his embrace so much. Endless tiredness since he vanished, only to find he's become a monster.

Your fists attempts to break the glass once again, aiming at his perfect eyes. Those damn eyes. The same eyes you used to adore. You still do. Torn between what you want and what you should do.

"You had no right! Who are you to choose who gets to live and who doesn't?! Why should you be any different from the humans?"

Your words are no longer contained into normal conversation. Only now, Loki seems to actually start realizing the weight behind your rage.

"I did it for us, love! For you. How am I supposed to give you everything if I'm just a mere god, son of a bastard and feared of my own people. Is that the man to give you everything? Is it?"

You don't even know where the thought process of this has sparked in his mind. Never have you asked anything unusual from him, just endless trust and honesty. You have always supported him when no one else would and when nobody wanted anything to do with him. A shoulder to cry on or an ear for venting. You've heated him up with your warmth when he was feeling cold and kissed him back to health countless of times. You used to be his. In return you only asked for trust and honesty. And the funny thing? In the end, you got none of that.

"I never wanted the world, Loki! I wanted you! Couldn't you see that you were enough?"

"Why do you care about the midgardians so much? What have they done for you? Have they given you flowers when you were sad? Have they kept you company at nights where you were haunted by nightmares? Did they do any of those? Because I recall it was me who stood by you all those years!"

Why is he suddenly so angry? It makes no sense to you. When he for once speaks from his real thoughts, anger and frustration is still the feeling behind it. Even if he got his plan to destroy earth through, it wouldn't stop his burning hate.

"You speak like they are nothing but soulless objects, pawns for you to manipulate when you feel like it!"

"They need a group of unstable mutants to protect them from dangers! A bunch of heroes that they don't even really like sometimes. The heroes gets the blame of the catastrophe happening even if they are the one fighting it! Is that a society worth fighting for? Their beloved little heroes are nothing but fools."

"Everything is worth fighting for. You don't know these people, do you? And as for the people, the heroes are a beacon of hope; a sign to stand strong and come together!"

You stand quiet for a second. Your fist lowers itself against the hard surface.

"Against people like you."

You don't want to see him anymore. Heard enough. Ready to go. You've made you decision. Because how could there ever be a change to this man? When he's been hiding his true nature behind your back for so long? Did you even know who you loved? Could you even call it love?

"Did you ever love me? Or was I just being fooled this entire time?"

Concern is now displaying on him for real. Maybe he's realize where you're going; what you're about to say.

"Why would you ask that? I love you more than anything! (Y/n), please understand this! I'd do anything for you!"

"Then tell me one single moment, just one, where you've spent time with me and thought 'I could be satisfied with this. I don't need power. I'm good with what I have'."

You heart is aching with anticipation. It's almost fatal. You don't want to know but he must realize it himself before you can finish.

And you can really see how he's trying. He's trying so hard for you, he thinks. He probably thinks he's tried doing everything for you; when he really just needed not to do anything at all. And just like you guessed, there comes no words. He knows you'll see if he's lying and knows you're right. But you don't ever think he will ever regret his attack for the right reasons. Nor for you, to get you back. No, you'll never accept that.

"I can't live like this, Loki. Can't you see you're breaking my heart?"

"I didn't mean to-"

"No. You didn't mean to do it, right? That's what you're gonna say... But I've heard enough. You have made a decision. And it's about time that I make mine as well."

The realization hits him almost instantly. And all the traces of his usually calm manner were gone in an instant. He's no longer standing with hands clasped behind his back. But they're clawing and pawning at the glass keeping the two of you apart. Loneliness is the one fatal emotion he hasn't dared himself to feel for years with you by his side. But now when it all might be taken away from him in a matter of seconds? How is he supposed to react?

He's begging, pleading, punching and screaming. Sobbing and begging even more. His silvertounge can't save him now. Nothing can save him now from the unruly fate. A path he himself had laid out beneath his feet.

"Please, (Y/n) I love you! I don't want to be here alone!"

...

"Please... It's cold and dark. I can't breathe without your warmth! Just.. Please!"

You can't stand to hear any more. His pleading is too much and you've stayed enough.

Your heart feels like it's being torn in half by your own hands as you turn around, the cold of your back hitting him in the deepest depths of his despair. And it sets him off.

You're going to leave him. The only purely good thing in his life is going to leave him. Where is he going to get his hugs? It doesn't matter because they won't be from you. Is he even going to remember your face when time has passed? Will he even remember your laugh, smile or your goofy little moments together? Will you find somebody else? Forget about him and move on.

Loki doesn't want you to move on; doesn't want you to move at all. He's ready to do whatever it takes to get you to stay.

And he would, if there wasn't a thick wall between you, keeping him from you no matter how hard he slammed it or how loudly he screamed at you.

Pleading became despair and despair led to threats; the only solution left to try.

He knew it was wrong. Wrong to threaten a loved one, especially you. But he would never accept his fate knowing that he hadn't tried anything in his power to make the only thing left for him to love slip past his hands.

But a tiny part of him knows that you won't hear him. Won't listen to him like those late summer nights under the moon on a cozy blanket, you tightly wrapped into his embrace with a content smile on your face.

Or the time when a sudden attack of sorrow and anxiety hit him in the middle of the night and you held him close to your chest while whispering sweet assurances for him to fall asleep to.

You had been his anchor to the real world.

You were the only thing to keep him sane enough.

But it wasn't enough in the end.

You had been his hero.

But not even a hero could save someone's world sometimes.

Especially when he was the one ruining it.

His love.

(Y/n)

[karajaynetoday]

and I can't stop that long forgotten feeling of her | ashton irwin

Here we go again with the emo angst! Thanks so much to everyone who has shared and sent feedback on the other parts. You can read part one here and part two here, and also part four here once you’ve finished with this bit. 

Part three is inspired by Flame Trees (originally by Australian band Cold Chisel in 1984, but I would absolutely recommend listening to the cover by Sarah Blasko which I had on repeat while working on this piece). All of the italics in this piece are lyrics from the song. 

More writing here | send feedback/thoughts/suggestions here

Trigger warning for mentions of death of a family member (non-graphic), a funeral and cremation.

Word count: 2.3k words

(This is a fem reader insert)

Kids out driving Saturday afternoon just pass me by | And I'm just savouring familiar sights

The drive to the church is quiet. Ashton insisted on driving you and your siblings, and despite your protests, he’d gotten his way. You were daydreaming out the window, pondering how everyone else in the world was just getting on with their lives when yours still felt so dark and painful. You’d spent your whole life driving and wandering these streets, and the houses and the trees and the footpaths felt like home. But then again, you’d never lived anywhere else, so where else would you feel like you belonged? 

You glanced over at Ash, who has one hand on the wheel. Does he feel at home here, you wonder? Does his heart feel settled when he drives in from the airport? Does he breathe in the air and breathe out his stress? Does he think of this place often? When he thinks of home, does he think of you? 

You catch yourself staring at Ashton, admiring how he runs one hand through his curls, and quickly returned to staring out your own window and continue your daydream. You’re rehearsing your eulogy in your head, when you feel a gentle hand brush over your own, and Ash slips his fingers between yours over the car’s centre console and gives your hand a squeeze. He’s got that soft smile on his face that you know for a fact can light up a whole room, but there’s a solemness about him today. The smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes; and you notice the dark circles on his face for the first time. Had you been so lost in yourself that you hadn’t seen how everything was bearing down on everyone around you? But then again, that was just it: everything was bearing down and you couldn’t see how it would stop deepening the gloominess you felt in your soul.  

We share some history, this town and I | And I can't stop that long forgotten feeling of her

Even though you’d rehearsed it in your head and in front of the mirror, stepping up to the podium and staring out at the faces everyone who was gathered to honour your mother’s memory made a lump rise in your throat and tears prick in your eyes. You closed your eyes, breathing deeply, and grasped the hands of your siblings who stood by your side. When you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was Ashton, staring back at you with a sympathetic look. He nodded at you, mouthing words of encouragement, and with that you were able to begin.

How sad it was, that she’d been taken so soon. How incredible it was, that she’d raised three children on her own, and always made birthdays and Christmases so special. How funny it was, that she always joked about her funeral being on the warmest winter day. How proud you were, to be her daughter and carry on her memory and her name. 

How sad it was, but how glad you were. To be in this room, and in this town, with so many people that loved her and loved your family like their own. To be able to talk together and laugh together and just remember. 

Oh the flame trees will blind the weary driver | And there's nothing else could set fire to this town

Ashton drove you home again in the gentle silence you’d had on the way there. Your siblings had opted to stay at friends’ houses for the night, wanting a change of scenery and some company to make them feel a bit normal again. You couldn’t blame them; every part of your house reminded you of her. From the cushions on the couch that she’d embroidered, or her favourite mug she always used for her morning cup of coffee, or the little succulents she’d planted in pots and scattered on every windowsill that got full sun at some point during the day. She was everywhere, and it should’ve been comforting, but all you wanted to do was pack it all away and not think about it because surely you couldn’t keep feeling this sad. Not forever.

When Ashton pulled into the driveway, you hesitated before unbuckling your seatbelt.

“Can you.. Do you want to come in? For a cuppa?” You mumbled, not quite meeting Ashton’s eyes, as you leaned forward to grab your bag from the floor of the passenger seat.

“Of course, love. I’m in no rush.”

You busied yourself in the kitchen, filling the kettle and finding two mugs and mulling over your extensive tea bag selection before settling on a chamomile for yourself and a green tea for Ashton, because he’d been telling you about how his yoga instructor back in Los Angeles ensured they all drank a cup of it after each class. You could hear Ash shuffling around in the lounge room, and when you came in with the two cups of tea in your hands, you found him flipping through the stack of vinyl records your mother kept on a bookshelf. 

You settled down onto the couch, resting Ashton’s mug on the coffee table and taking a long sip of your own brew. You chuckled softly, as you noticed his eyes lighting up in excitement as he examined each new vinyl in the stack.

“Dude, have you looked at these?! Alanis Morrissette, Pink Floyd, Soundgarden?! Your mum had fuckin’ sick taste.” Ashton mused happily, reaching over to grasp his cup of tea and raise it to you in a gesture of thanks. 

“Oh, I know. And she knew it, too… keep going, you might find some more things of interest in that pile.” You said softly, a sad smile etched on your face. Eventually, Ash found his own band’s album on vinyl in the stack and he looked up at you, surprised.

“What? As if she wouldn’t add you to the collection. She was so excited when she found out you were releasing things on vinyl.” 

Ash carefully placed all the records back onto the shelf, and sat down next to you on the couch. He stretched out his arm above your shoulders, and you instinctively leaned into his warmth. 

“I know, I always thought of her when we talked about pressing vinyl for the albums, but I just… seeing it in the living room, where we used to blast Cold Chisel and INXS and Silverchair and dance around like idiots til she’d yell it us to go to bed, makes it feel like that was a million years ago, you know?” 

“That’s because it was, Ash. When you’re only 26, ten years ago does feel like a million.” You said quietly, fiddling with the cup in your hands. “You should pick out your favourite records and take them back home with you. She’d like that.”

You can feel Ashton’s gaze on you, and you turn your head to look him in the eye. He looks perplexed. 

“What? Where are you in that great, complicated, genius mind of yours?” You asked, prodding him in the side. He grabs your hand, and kisses it softly. “You said I should take them back home with me. But… I feel at home right now, with you.” Ash whispered, like he was almost afraid of his own words. You felt your heart start to beat faster, and you squeeze his hand tightly. 

“Then stay. At least… stay for tonight. Stay home with me.” You whispered back, and then suddenly Ashton’s lips are on yours and it’s much more heated than a few nights ago out on the couch in Neverland, and you can almost feel the desperate sense of hopelessness in Ashton’s embrace. You let yourself get lost in the warmth and the pleasure and the feeling because it’s the first thing you’ve felt other than sadness and despair in months before you realise that you’re basically straddling Ashton and tugging on his shirt and then suddenly you catch yourself and pull away.

“I’m sorry, I can’t - I can’t do this.” You stutter out, feeling the panic rising in your chest. Almost like he can feel it, Ashton reaches out and runs his arms up and down your sides reassuringly. 

“It’s okay, love. You’re fine. I shouldn’t have done that, I just got a bit caught up. Being here, with you, with the vinyls, after everything… I just need you to know that I lo-”

“NO.” You almost bark, pushing yourself up off the couch and stalking down the hall towards your bedroom.

“Wait, you can’t just -” Ashton began, rushing to catch up with you.

“What, Ashton?! I can’t WHAT?!” You spat, spinning on your heel to face him. “I can’t walk away after you tell me you love me? After you promise me that you won’t leave me? After you tell me I feel like home?!” You wanted to sound harsh and cold, but your voice broke on the last few words. 

You felt your knees buckle underneath you, and you slid down your bedroom door as the angry tears began to fall. Ashton sat quietly beside you, and you could tell he was hesitant to say anything for fear of upsetting you more.

“It’s not fair. You know it’s not.” You sniffled, wiping your face on your sleeve. 

“I know. I never wanted this to happen. Not to us.” Ashton spoke, his voice laced with sadness.

“Can you just… stay, just for tonight? And then in the morning we can be adults and talk about our issues and sort out our lives. I don’t want to guilt-trip you, buuuut my mother DID just die so it’d be bloody wonderful if my best friend could lend me his body heat and maybe whisper some reassuring phrases to me while I sleep.” You tried to lighten the mood, feeling your sadness and anger start to dissipate as Ashton laughed. Honestly, that laugh. What you would do to hear it every day. 

“Of course I can, sunshine. Lead the way.” Ash stood and pulled you to your feet, and you opened your bedroom door and lead him inside. You were both quiet, as you undressed for bed, and still quiet as you pulled back the covers and climbed into bed. But then again, with Ash, you didn’t always need words. You just needed each other. 

Ashton’s arm found your waist and pulled your body into his gently, as he snuggled into your shoulder. You felt your eyes start to droop, and your breathing start to even out in sync with Ashton’s, and you fell into one of the deepest sleeps you’d had in years. 

And I'm happy just to sit here a table with old friends | And see which one of us can tell the biggest lies

The next few days, you began and ended your days like that: peaceful and calm in Ashton’s arms. You’d heard him on the phone early one morning, arguing with someone about rescheduling something-or-other, and you knew that he’d have to leave you soon. But somehow, despite all of the sadness of the past few weeks, you felt better about letting him go than you had all those years ago. Something in the air had changed, and you couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but you just knew that things would be okay.

On Thursday, the funeral home called to say that your mother’s ashes were ready for collection. You managed to drive there yourself without any issues, and it seemed very strange that one of your favourite people were now reduced to small particles in a fancy silver jar-looking-thing, but you collected them nonetheless.

Your mother had grown up about an hour away from where you lived now, and after her diagnosis she talked to you about wanting her ashes scattered in a field in the mountains, so her mortal and immortal souls could join and be at peace in the place where she began her life all those years ago. So the next morning, after a short breakfast, you and your siblings drove up into the Blue Mountains, searching for the perfect place to commemorate the woman you all loved so much. Ashton and his family joined you, driving in convoy, and when you parked up alongside a grassy field where you could see a trickling creek and the sunlight peeking through the old, tall trees, they followed suit and joined you at the fence line on the side of the road. 

One by one, your siblings took turns scattering the ashes, before handing the silver urn to you for the last part. You closed your eyes, and tipped out the urn, whispering under your breath like she was there to hear you. And in that moment, you felt like she was. Because the wind seemed to still, and the sun broke through the clouds, and you were there with those who knew and loved her the most, so of course she would be there too. 

And that’s when you knew, that no matter if you stayed in the house with her cushions and her plants and her vinyl records, or if you followed your heart to the other side of the world, that she’d always be with you. Because she was in your heart, and home is where the heart is. 

There's no change, there's no pace | Everything within its place | Just makes it harder to believe that she won't be around

More writing here | send feedback/thoughts/suggestions here

[alysmarylin]

The fic you've been waiting for

Crowley avenging his beloved angel - Sandalphon got what he deserved (don't thank me, reblog instead)!!!!!!!!

Crowley and Aziraphale were unpacking the stuff they bought on a big shopping Sunday, and to this very day Crowley can't remember why and how they ended up talking about Aziraphale's, well... Ex-kin.

"I kinda enjoyed Michael", Crowley laughed. "Rather good-looking. Uriel, on the other hand..."

"Don't get me started on Uriel and Sandalphon", Aziraphale rolled his eyes. "I hate their guts"

"Sandalphon was a tough prick, I remember. And uglier than Belzebub", Crowley sneered.

"You don't say. He works in my place now, homophobic son of a... They couldn't have picked a worse candidate", Aziraphale said in a somewhat hurt voice. 

"Don't worry, angel. Soon enough, he will receive some beating from locals, I tell you"

"Yeah, I should've definitely punched that bastard back", Aziraphale muttered under his nose quietly, angrily. 

" Yeah, you bet...", Crowley laughed and then stopped abruptly. "W-w-wait, wait-wait-wait. Back? What do you mean, back?". Crowley stood up from the floor and stepped up to Aziraphale. 

" Nothing, really"

"No, not nothing". Crowley's eyes were widened in shock. " Do you mean, that, that piece of shit HIT you?!"

Aziraphale lowered his eyes. It looked like the memory wasn't pleasant. Crowley was gasping.

"When? When did it happen? How come I didn't know?", Crowley was not yet angry but more frightened. " Angel, look at me. Talk to me. Someone battered you and I know nothing of it?!"

"No one battered me. I was walking back to my bookshop and Michael, Uriel and... And he approached me, I was questioned..."

"Where the Hell was I?" - Crowley asked, astonished.

"You drove home", Aziraphale said quietly and sadly.

Crowley tilted his head backward and sighed with despair. "I should've known... ". He lowered his head and looked at Aziraphale with sadness and pain. Aziraphale looked confused and lost.

" What did he do? Tell me, angel", Crowley stepped closer, putting his hand on Aziraphale's arm, leaning closer. "Tell me. He's dead"

"Don't you dare, Crowley, we got away and I won't..."

"What did he do to you? What? Why didn't you tell me? I was up there, I saw him, I could've..."

"Because I didn't want you to", Aziraphale answered bitterly. " I needed you to be concentrated and cool-headed. You freed me from them, same as I did for you. That's all that matters"

"No, it's not. You look sad, you look hurt", Crowley said, cupping Aziraphale's cheek. " Otherwise you would've forgotten".

"He punched me in the stomach, alright?", Aziraphale said with a lump in his throat. His lower lip trmbled a bit. "It wasn't as painful physically as it was humiliating".

Crowley looked down on his angel's belly - soft, beautiful, beloved and precious - and everything before his eyes suddenly became red as blood.

"I told you because I trust you, but if you dare approach him or pull out something stupid like that, I will leave you, Crowley", he heard Aziraphale's voice from some distance.

"Do you hear me? Answer me, Crowley"

Crowley felt his head filling with lead from within.

"I will not approach him. I swear it"

"Good", he hears Aziraphale say. " I'll finish unpacking"

Crowley stopped Aziraphale, holding him by the arm. He embraced him from behind, wrapping one of his arms around his chest and putting his hand gently on the angel's belly. He buried his nose in his soft blonde curls and muttered: "I love you".

"I love you too", Aziraphale answered softly, "Now let me finish".

Crowley looked at him, picking up paper bags and arranging the stuff around the room, looking small and soft and lovely. Somehow it made his silent rage all the more burning and red became crimson in his eyes. He swore he wouldn't approach that sick fuck who laid his dirty hands - no, he couldn't bear to think of it - on Aziraphale

... But he said nothing of his friends.

***

Crowley pulled his hood further on his forehead

"Pleasure to see you, Jay. You look like a heroin addict in that hoody", said Phil. 

"I have to hide my hair somehow. Rare color"

Crowley was nervous and feeling restless.

"Yep. You're drop-dead gorgeous lad, we get it. To what I owe the pleasure?"

"I need to track someone down. Name's Saldanphon but he changes his IDs every now and then. You'll have to check for anything similar. Don't have a picture, but I draw him", Crowley laid a piece of paper on a table. The drawing looked fairly accurate. " Looks middle-aged, a bit fat, bald, ugly, has a golden tooth. A homophobe might be hanging around gay bars and the likes to preach or intimidate or whatever he does. That's all I have as of now".

"Well", Phil sighed " It's doable. But it will take a while. Any family?"

"No, none at all"

"I see. The golden tooth is indeed something". Phil looked at Crowley's hand. "You got married?"

"Ugh, yeah", Crowley answered looking around. " You know how to, ehm, tell me of the progress?"

"I've been around longer than you", Phil said wearily, and Crowley had to keep his mouth shut on that remark, " You'll know when I find something. Just one more thing. This, ehm, funny-named morality apostle. What exactly are you planning? He's gonna go?"

"No, not go", Crowley said with sheer disappointment "Plainly be taught a lesson. He put his shitty hands where he shouldn't have".

"Are you gonna call our mutual friend?", Phil raised his eyebrows. " If you want to make it clean, it's the best way. They'll never track his men down. Just food for thought, Jay. A piece of advice from the old man"

"That sounds reasonable", Crowley nodded, as if he had had any idea what to do next when he came to Phil, " I'll think about it. Thank you. Wanna count?". He put a book - a fake book, of course - on a table.

"Here? Oh, please. Trust me, if I don't find what I intend to find here, you'll know", Phil put a book in his bag and stood up. " Have a nice day, kid. Next time, wear something else"

Crowley waited for ten more minutes before leaving the diner. It was only when he was in a crowdy underground station when he put the hood off. He had to be cautious. For everyone's sake.

 

***

 

"Do you really think it's a good place, Jay?", said a tall and broad bald man in a leather jacket, trying to sit comfortably on a bench by a pond.

"The best one, in terms of privacy", said Crowley, looking grimly from his hood. " So. You said you owe me a favor all the way back from 1999. I didn't need anything for a long time, but now..."

"How do you manage to look so young, you sick bastard?", the man asked, chuckling, trying to look at Crowley's face. " You look just like my son, and that sad excuse of an heir is 27 now, not something you could tell by the way he speaks, though, I'd give him 10  in that department, still... How old are you, anyway?"

"I use a strong sunscreen. And I have good genes. Good, hardworking Irish people, my entire family. Will you listen or not, Patsy?"

A bald man stopped laughing and sighed.

"Of course. What seems to be the problem?"

"Our mutual buddy, Phil, tracked down a guy I need you to deal with. Here's what I've got on him", Crowley took a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to a man without so much as looking at his side. " I want your people to teach him a lesson. He's gotta stay alive. I can't be seen. But I need to watch it from a distance. I know you're ready to do this, but still" - Crowley took out something that looked like a book and put it on Patsy's lap still without looking at him - "this is some additional motivation for you, or a token of a good will, if you wish to call it that way".

Patsy put down an apparently-book-thing in his suitcase and opened a piece of paper. He looked at Crowley, frowning.

" What kind of a lesson do you want him to be taught, exactly?"

"If your boys will do it properly, he'll need new teeth", Crowley said, finally turning his head to his counterpart, looking him in the eyes from beneath his shaded. "The whole damn package. And the old ones, I want to have them. Every single one. Especially the golden one. No internal bleeding, no injuries to any organs. You can break a couple of ribs, but carefully. As you wish. But I need his teeth"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Jay", the Patsy man said, looking flabbergasted. " What did this son of a bitch did to you so you became such a butcher"

"He laid his shitty hands where he shouldn't have", Crowley hissed, grinding his teeth. His hands clenched in fists.

" You didn't tell me you were married. Was this your wife?", Patsy asked warily.

"I have no wife, but I am indeed married", Crowley answered. " I know you're one of the few people of your occupation who don't look down on things like that. I love him. But I swore I won't touch this bastard myself. I don't have much choice, Pat"

"I'm sorry it happened to your, well, spouse", Patsy said carefully. " But the guys that I have in my crew are not as open-minded as I wish they were. You know it yourself. Ours is not the most prestigious job. I'll do this favor, but when you're sitting in a car with them, better keep the personal personal". 

They shook hands.

"I'll be waiting for your call. You know which number to call, and which not to", Crowley said, standing up. "I'm looking forward to seeing your team at work".

 

***

 

Crowley was staring into the field glasses, trying looking at two tall men in leather jackets dragging a bald man resembling Sandalphon, gagged and tied up, to a torch on the abandoned parking lot. The jeep where Crowley and his associates were sitting was right in its darkest corner.

It was Christmas Eve, the 24th of December. The snow was falling gloriously, but the place was too grim and damp for the fairy-tale-like spirit.

“You see them, Cap?”, a young driver, sitting by Crowley’s side asked.

“It looks like him, but I need insurance. I remember his voice. Call them”

One of the guys on the backseat dialed a number and one of the bouncers took the phone.

“Our cap wants so be sure it’s the guy. Let him speak”

He turned on the speakerphone. Soon enough Crowley heard Sandalphon screaming something like:

“I’ll give you anything you want, please, untie me, I need my hands, I…”, before Crowley nodded and Sandalphon became silent again. The phone was turned off and Sandalphon was dragged to a small staircase, and Crowley had to pay very close attention, looking into field glasses again, to recognize what was going on.

“Are you sure your people can do ALL the teeth in one go?”, he asked a bit unsurely.

“You insult us, Mr. Jay. It is our signature. One strike, all teeth. Leaves a strong message”, murmured a young man behind him.

“Well, then…”, Crowley started, but then he saw something rather outstanding, that made him make a certain sound: “Oi, woah… That was surprising… Alright, gentlemen, pardon me for my previous skepticism. I take that back. On second thought, I even refuse to take, the, ehm, the evidence”

He then heard his phone ring. It had to be Aziraphale. He had to answer. He quickly took the phone and blurted:

“Angel, honey, I can’t talk, I’m very busy, buying you a surprise, I’ll call you back in ten, love you”, without letting him even say a word. He figured out it would be more secure.

“Wife?”, asked a second young man, with a smile.

“Yeah. Sort of. Listen, I think I’d rather be going, are they done with the teeth? At the end of the day, I’ll think I’m more than happy without them. I don’t wanna take ‘em. I saw what you did, it was amazing. Drop me at the underground station, please… Else my, ehm, spouse, will be suspecting something, which I don’t fancy, like, at all”.

 

Crowley was very relieved when they drove away.

 

***

 

Crowley thought he had never had such a lovely Christmas morning. Angel was by his side, in his lovely tartan pajamas, they were tucked under the blanket, sipping tea and lazily switching the channels on telly.

“I thought I hated Christmas”, Crowley said quietly, as he lowered his head to Aziraphale’s, planting a soft kiss on his temple. “Now you made me love it. What next, angel?”

“You’ll stop wearing all black?”, Aziraphale answered, with a sarcastic smile.

“Naah, not in this life and not in the next”, Crowley said leisurely, switching the channels. Then he saw the news.

“… The victim of this horrific Christmas assault is alive, but severely traumatized – his teeth were…”

That was something Crowley didn’t account for – the bloody news.

“Ugh, what is it with these people”, he said with a trembling voice, trying desperately to sound casual, turning the telly off. “It’s only violence on this television, I’ll better put on some music. And make you some tea”, Crowley said, standing up.

“Dear boy”, Aziraphale said softly. “I’d like some tangerines. Would you be so kind as to bring your husband a plateful of those?”, he smiled. Crowley looked like he was melting from the inside.

“Every time you say the h-word I can’t say no to anything, angel. I’ll be in 15, a’right”

Crowley sighed with relief as he stepped into the kitchen. He was off the hook now, but some time from now, the angel might still learn about what happened. Will he be able to understand?

“All I did, I did for you”, Crowley thought in pain. “I love you so much I couldn’t stop it. He had to pay, my love, he had to”. Crowley felt tears fill his eyes, as he was putting tangerines in a bowl, but he was able to will them away. “I’d kill for you, I’d die for you, Aziraphale”, he thought with anguish. “I hope you know that whatever comes. I hope you will forgive me for what I had to do”.

 ***

 

With Crowley gone, Aziraphale was finally able to read the newspaper.

 

“Broken teeth, that’s a good take”, he thought smugly, as he read the weekly crime report. “See, Sandalphon. What goes around, comes around, next time you want to apply brutal force to your… arguments, better remember this, no? Though I doubt there will be the next time”

Aziraphale smirked. What his husband lacked in logic and cautiousness, he made up in loyalty and protectiveness. Blind loyalty and fierce protectiveness.

“You’re such an idiot, Crowley”, Aziraphale thought tenderly. “Really, A-J? To think I wouldn’t know? Me, famous Mr. Fell of Soho?”

That very evening, when he received a phone call from Phil and heard of some “heroin junkie looking” guy calling himself “Tony Jay” or “A J”, or, God have mercy, “Jay”, of all things, he knew it has to be Crowley.

“Wearing a black hoodie on top of his shades, really. It’s a miracle he didn’t get busted for drug possession”. Maybe it was indeed a miracle.

Truth be told, he wasn’t angry. He couldn’t approve openly, but there was a certain warmness in knowing that a homophobic golden-toothed prick who assaulted him now got what was coming for him.

“But I can’t encourage this sort of behavior in Crowley”, he thought, hiding his smile. “Now, dear boy, you need to control your impulses. At least, most of the time”.

Still, Aziraphale knew that he was one of the luckiest men – well, not really men, but… - alive, for his partner would stop at nothing to protect him.

“If only he would’ve acted a bit cleverer… Well, I suppose you can’t have it all. He’s beautiful, caring, kind, sweet, fiercely loyal and sexy as Hell, in the most literal sense of this word. It’s only natural he has to be a complete idiot to not let me forget myself. Oh, he brought me the cannoli the other day… This boy watched The Godfather too many times”.

 

“Angel!”, Crowley said, entering the room with a bowl full of tangerines. “What are you smiling at?”

“I’m thinking about how lucky I am to have you, dear boy”, Aziraphale answered with a loving smile.

[optimizche]

Angelic: Prologue (Park Chanyeol/Reader)

Author's note: Its here! The prologue. This is how it all begins. Moodboard made by  yours truly. Enjoy! 

Full masterlist

The gardens of Heaven had always been my home. My reprieve.

Ever since I had been a child, I spent most of my time among the trees, weaving flowers into my hair.

Even on this day, I was there, lying upon my back upon a bed of lush grass. Surrounded by dahlias and roses and magnolias.

The sun was shining brightly, and I lay in the shade of the largest oak tree, enjoying the mild breeze caressing my skin, running through my hair.

"____________," came his lilting voice accompanied by his approaching footsteps. "There you are!"

I opened my eyes to see Junmyeon, the Archangel of Heaven, walking toward me, a soft smile on his lips.

Letting out a shriek of delight, I sprang to my feet before running toward him, straight into his outstretched arms.

He laughed and pulled me into his embrace, his arms growing tighter around me protectively as he spun me around. 

I giggled, my laugh echoing through the garden. 

"I missed you so much, Myeonnie," I breathed into his neck, pressing my lips to his skin reverently, inhaling the the scent of him. My heart was soaring upon learning of his return. Junmyeon was my home.

"When did you come back?" I asked against his skin.

"Just now," he replied, running a hand through my hair. "Father has summoned you."

Suddenly, a wave of anxiety pierced through my heart, speeding up its beat from placid to frantic.

Junmyeon noticed the way I stiffened in his arms and placed his hands on my shoulders, pulling me away from him. His dark eyes were upon my face, studying me. Reading me.

"I don't want to go..." I mumbled out, and he knew what I was talking about.

The time had finally come for my descension.

The descension was a rite of passage, a milestone of sorts in the life of every Angel.

Ever since my birth, I had spent my years here. In Heaven. Paradise, as what humans called it. But now, according to my Father, my Creator, the being humans referred to as God, it was time for me to go down to Earth. So that I could live amongst mankind, pretending to be one of them, so that I could carry out Father's commands and spread his word. It was the duty of every Angel. That is exactly what we had been created for: to protect mankind and to guide them along the path of righteousness if they went astray.

And humans, of this age especially, had drifted far away from Father's beliefs. Sins ran abound. Killing, betrayals, deception and lies. Lust, anger, laziness and gluttony. More and more humans were living a life of sin and moving away from God's message. Forgetting his word.

It was the job of every Angel to remind humans to do what was right. What was good.

And my time had come.

Junmyeon had descended centuries ago and he was experienced when it came to living among humans.

I, however, was absolutely terrified of living on Earth. Not of humans, of course. Humans were hardly a threat to us Angels.

No, I was afraid of them.

Satan's children.

Just like we Angels descended to spread our Father's message and commandments, Satan, the Ruler of Hell, sent his children, his spawn, to Earth.

Devil's children also lived among humans. Leading humans astray. Tempting them to sin. Enticing them to lie and kill and thieve.

Just like it was our job to spread God's message, it was the job of Satan's children to lead humans off the path of good.

It was a constant war, that had existed since the birth of time, since the conception of the universes.

God against Satan.

Good against evil.

Angels against Satan's children.

Junmyeon's hand on my face brought me back, out of my thoughts.

"Hey," he said, running his thumb over my cheek. "Don't worry. You'll be fine. You will do great down there."

Tears sprang into my eyes.

"I don't want to go, Myeonnie," I breathed, my voice shaky. "Not alone."

He pulled me into his arms.

"You have to, my darling," he whispered into my ear. "It is how it is. It is a rite of passage. We all have to go through it. It is a necessity. So that we may fulfil our duty."

And Junmyeon was nothing if not dutiful. Father's favourite son, who could never do any wrong.

"Why must I go alone?" I asked, tears running down my cheeks, while I cried. "Why can't you come with me?"

Hearing the broken desperation in my voice, he pulled me closer, his arms tightening around me protectively.

"I wish I could," he said. "But Father won't let me. This is something you must do by yourself. But don't worry! Yixing is there. Luhan, Minseok, Jongdae and Baekhyun, too! They will be there to help you in any way they can."

"I don't want them," I told him, pouting when I pulled away from his embrace. "I want you."

He sighed. "You know I can't, my darling."

My face fell, crumpling in sadness.

"_____________," he said. "Don't be sad. Please. I'd hate for you to leave like this."

My eyes rose to meet his. "You have made me sad, Junmyeon," I snapped, a hard edge in my voice that made his eyes widen in surprise.

I had never spoken this way with him. Perhaps it was my apprehension or my anxiety. Or the fear of running into one of them. And I hated myself for how much it was already affecting me.

"I have to go and meet Father. Mustn't keep him waiting," I said, turning away from him.

Wiping away my tears, I walked away from him, ignoring his calls of my name.

________________________

"My daughter," came Father's deep, booming voice, when I approached him, walking toward where he sat atop his gilded, opulent throne.

I sank to my knees before him, bowing low, my wings, made of pure ivory, spreading out around me.

A sign of my complete submission.

"Rise, my child," he said, rising from his own seat and walking toward me.

I obeyed him, standing up, but keeping my eyes downcast. To keep my tears concealed.

But nothing ever remained hidden from Father.

He was the one who knew all.

"I know you have been weeping, and I understand the reason for your despair. But what must be done must be done, my child."

"I know, Father," I said, my voice low. Timid.

"You already know all that I have taught you, ever since you were born. But you must keep a few things in mind," he said.

I waited. Listening intently.

"Firstly, you must be careful of mankind, my daughter. You must never reveal to them what you truly are. Humans have always feared what they cannot understand. When you descend, you will find that you are superior to them. Stronger, more powerful than them, in mind and in body. But you must blend into them, in order to successfully carry out my work. Do you understand?"

"I do, Father," I responded.

His hands came on my face, and he tilted my head upwards, to meet his gaze.

"Secondly, and most importantly," he said, his tone growing grave with every word he spoke. "You know they will be there. Around you. Living among humans as well, straying them away from my path," he said and you nodded. You knew who 'they' were.

He was referring to Satan's children.

"Be cautious around them, my child. They will try to lead you astray as well. They will do anything they can, to distract you. They will try to lure you, tempt you. Try to entice you to give into the forbidden. They will try to make you fall."

I shuddered when I heard that word.

Fall.

The fall.

The ultimate ostracism.

Where, if an Angel transgressed Father's guidelines, they'd be dismissed and expelled from Heaven. Their wings would be cleaved from the very roots and the pain was unendurable. You had heard their screams. And then they'd be thrown away, sent plummeting down to Earth, never to be able to return to Paradise, sentenced to live out the rest of their days among mankind as one of them.

I had seen Angels fall. And hears their blood-curdling screams, when their wings, the very crux of their strength, their pride, were being lacerated mercilessly. Their cries haunted me. 

I never wanted to fall.

That was my worst fear.

Father's expression turned into stone, as he continued.

"There is one, Satan's favourite son, who you should be most wary of, my daughter. He is ruthless, malevolent and savage. He is evil personified. He is the heir to the throne of Hell and he leads the legion of his father's spawn. He will try to find you, because he knows how dear you are to me."

I had heard of him. Heard rumours of his nefarious and depraved ways.

And being God's only daughter, I was certain that he was going to try his best to lead me astray, simply to spite my Father.

"They call him by many names. But most know him as Chanyeol."

"Chanyeol," I repeated and the name tasted strange on my tongue.

Bitter, of course. But there was something else there, too...

I was pulled out of my thoughts when I felt Father press his lips gently to my forehead.

"Make me proud, my daughter," he said.

"I will, Father."

He pulled away from me, a smile on his face.

Raising a hand in the air, he spoke. "Are you ready to descend?"

I inhaled a deep breath.

This was it.

"I am, Father."

As soon as the words left my lips, he brought his hand down and I felt the clouds part beneath me.

And I was falling.

[allmightismysugadaddy]

Accidently posted this to the wrong blog, but editing on the app is too difficult, so I just reblogged. Please follow @allmightismyghostwriter for more fics, and send requests there if you have some. Thanks!

I know this was a headcanon request, but I couldn't help but write a short fic for it. Its the kind of angst I eat up.

Secrets / Toshinori Yagi x Fem Reader / SFW

“Wh-what are you talking about?” You stuttered out, laughing to hide your fear. “You can't be serious, Toshi.”

You reached out to take the thin blond man’s hand, but he jerked it away, and you couldn't help but gasp. “Y-You can't see me anymore?” Your voice cracked.

He turned his gaze away, unable to look at the tears that he had caused to build in the corners of your eyes.

“Why…?” You clenched your fists, and then stomped you foot to the floor, before shouting at him, “You said you loved me! What that all a lie?” You breath was ragged with turmoil, as your shouts turned into sobs. “Just a lie to get me into bed? I can't believe this…”

“No!” Toshinori finally shouted, and reached his shaking arms around your shoulders, pulling you into his embrace. “It’s because I love you…” He whispered into your hair, “My work is too dangerous, I just… I can't be the reason you're hurt. Or worse.”

“Your work?” You scoffed and pushed him away, leaving him looking down at his empty arms in despair. “You won't even tell me what that ‘work’ is. You won't tell me anything about yourself.” You clenched for fists so hard, that you were sure your fingernails would break the skin of your palm. “I stopped asking questions. I told myself just being with you was enough. But now…” You sucked back a sob, trying to hold together your composure. “But now… can’t you just tell me what it is you're leaving me for?”

You had your eyes to the ground, watching your tears litter the carpet of your foyer. You couldn't look at him. Not now.

“I…” Toshinori squeezed out a single syllable from his throat, “I'm sorry…”

The overwhelming feeling of heartbreak struck through you like a knife to the gut, and you spun your back to him, gasping out a sob you wished he couldn't hear. “Just go!” You shouted.

You heard him utter out your name, and he sounded like he was in pain, but you shook your head, not letting yourself be fooled into facing him again.

“I wont… forget you, my dear.” He whispered, then you heard a few footsteps, and the door shut behind him.

You fell to the floor sobbing. “I would do anything to forget you.”

That was six months past now. Somedays, you only thought about Toshinori for a few seconds. His crooked smile, his lame jokes, his fluffy hair… Then, you would push those thoughts down and continue pushing through your life without him.

But some days, and many nights, you couldn't keep your mind off of him. You didn't date anyone else. You couldn't find it in you to open up to anyone. You feared you might not ever be able to again.

And, though you tried to tell yourself it was just because you lacked the closure you needed, you knew deep down, that it was because you loved him. You loved him too much to stop thinking about him for even a day.

You would have done anything to have a chance to speak to him once again; to just hear his voice; to see his glowing blue eyes and feel his calloused, but gentle hands in yours again.

You were holed up in your room the night of All Might’s fight against All for One. The fight has become too terrifying--too real--and you had turned it off and covered your head with a blanket that you hadn't washed since Toshinori last spent the night.

It still smelt of him, and it eased your worries.

The ringing of your phone caught your ears, and you peaked out from under the blanket to see it vibrating on your nightstand, its screen the only light that illuminated the room.

You stretched out for hand and picked it up, hitting the receive button before holding it to your ear.

“Turn on your TV.” Your best friend spoke before you could even say hello.

You shook your head, though you knew they couldn't see you. “I can’t. It's too frightening.”

“Turn it on.” They ordered you again. “It's your boyfriend.”

You jolted up in bed and frantically searched for the remote tangled up in your covers. Toshinori was in the fight with All Might and that terrifying villain? What was he thinking? He would be killed!

Finally, your fingers grazed your remote control, and you held it to your TV, mashing the power button with your thumb.

The sudden light blinded you, but when your eyes adjusted, you saw him there. Toshinori standing in a crater, covered in blood and bruises, All Might's costume hanging off of him and blowing in the wind.

“T-Toshinori!” you choked on his name. “Wh-Why? What is he doing there? Where's All Might?”

“He is All Might.” The voice on the receiver responded.

Your mind went blank

My work is too dangerous.

It’s because I love you.

I'm sorry…

Toshinori’s last words echoed through your mind, and your eyes were glued to the screen as you watched your beloved bulk up an incredible left hook, but the villain just took it.

You couldn't hear him, but you knew he was fighting with all his might.

“All Might…” You whispered, as your phone slipped from your grasp. “Toshinori is… All Might.”

You watch as he bulked up his right arm again, which already looked beyond mangled, and he slammed a punch so hard into the villain that the helicopter broadcasting the fight was blown out of view, and signal was lost. Your eyes were wide with fear and you began to shake, before taking a deep breath and absolutely screaming, “Don't you dare die, Toshinori!!”

When the fight had ended, and you knew he had survived, you had dashed out of your apartment, tripping down the stairs and running to the hospital in Kamino that he was being held. The press was clogging the entrance, but you ran around the side and squeezed through a window while the nurses were distracted by the press.

You couldn't just ask someone where All Might was, you knew you would just be mistaken for a fan or a reporter and shown out, but you followed the sound of the commotion, until you found a single hospital room which had an entrance just as congested with cameramen as the hospital entrance.

You pushed your way through the press, not afraid to break a camera or two if that's what it took, and broke your way to the front of the crowd.

A female nurse stood between you and a white curtain, hiding the patient. She spoke softly but sternly. “I will not repeat myself again, people. My patient needs rest, and this commotion will not help him!”

“Toshinori!” You shouted at the top of your lungs, causing the nurse to flinch in shock.

“Ma’am, please!” she urged. “The patient has been through a lot. He needs his--" Her words were cut off by the sound of the curtain being pulled back, and revealing Toshinori. His face was covered in scratches, and both of his arms were bandaged, his right one plastered and hung in a sling.

But he was alive.

“Toshinori…” You repeated, much softer this time, as new tears formed in your eyes.

“I'm sorry, nurse. She's with me.”

The nurse fidgeted, seeming shocked and confused, but stepped aside and allowed you to run past her to Toshinori, throwing your arms around him, and him stroking your back with his free hand.

The nurse then apologized to the press, and activated her quirk, summoning a barrier which she used to force them out of the room. She took one glance back at the two of you, and then excused herself as well.

You sobbed into the bandages around Toshinori’s shoulder, wanting hold him tighter, but fearing you would harm him.

“You're an idiot.” You scolded him with a scratchy voice.

“I'm sorry, my dear.” He replied, his voice wracked with guilt.

You jolted up from him, holding his shoulders at arms’ length, and let your frustration explode. “You should be! You didn't trust me enough to tell me you put yourself in danger every day! You just left me, wishing I knew why.” You took a deep, sobbing breath, and hung your head in the air between you, your hair blowing with his breath. “I should hate you. I wish I hated you.” Your adrenaline dissipated and you crumbled, leaning back onto his chest, and listening to his heartbeat; so happy to still be able to hear it. “But I don't. “

“I'm sorry.” Toshinori repeated himself, reaching to stroke his fingers through your hair.

“Stop apologizing.” You told him, “I’m just… I'm so happy you're alive.” You wept into his shoulder again, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I love you so much.”

The gasp he gave off shook the both of you, and he wrapped his usable arm tightly around your shoulders, holding you tightly to his chest. “I love you, too.” He sobbed out, his chin buried in your hair as his tears began to fall. “I've never stopped loving you.”

“No more secrets.” You told him with a sniffle.

“I promise.” He replied.

“Don't ever leave me again.”

“I won't.”

“Kiss me.”

Toshinori’s eyes widened at your words, and you pulled your head up just enough to face him. He could tell, by the look in your eye, that you meant it.

His eyes were glued to your lips, as you leaned back down towards his. You came so close that you could taste his breath in your mouth--a taste you missed more than you could say.

“Please…” You whispered.

Finally, Toshinori leaned forward, and bridged the gap.

[phasmavi]

I told you guys I had a little something prepared for my 3k! celebration...

So here it is. My first posted fanfic.

Title: The Fulfilled Promise

40's! Bucky x 40's! fem reader

Summary: AU! in which Bucky is coming from the war to his love.

Word Count: 1560

Warnings: just fluff and a bit of longing

A/N: Wooohooo! Hope you guys like it. I am an amateur so don't expect too much hah

Btw thank y'all. I hit 3k! I am sooo happy. I love you guys so much 💕🦄

You couldn't believe it. The war was over. Everyone was celebrating, spending time with their families, reuniting with brothers, husbands, and fathers that were coming back from the field. You were beyond happy that your lover was on his way home too.

Standing in front of the mirror you were tugging on the best dress you had and biting your lip. "Will he like it?" you asked yourself. You shouldn't have been concerned about it because he's always liked the way you dressed. Or maybe it was because he was so in love with you. Either way, you wanted to look amazing for him.

You felt like he was the right guy. Everything about him was special to you. The way he smiled when he was around you. The way he held your hand when you walked around the city. The way he bit his lip when he made you laugh. The way his warm lips gently brushed against yours.The way he constantly flirted with you like the first day you met him.

It was one of the cold afternoons of January 1939. You were sitting alone in a cafe sipping a cup of hot chocolate and reading a book. A little bell on the door rang and you looked up to see who entered the building. You saw a 20-ish man with dark messy hair and very handsome facial features. He was covered in white snowflakes and looked like a puppy that jumped into a snowdrift. You watched him as he took off his coat and looked around the room. Suddenly his gaze stopped on you and you saw the corner of his lips twitch. You quickly broke eye contact and shifted in your seat.

A few moments later you heard someone clearing their throat so you raised your head. "You mind if I join ya?" he asked pointing at the seat in front of you. "No," you responded while moving your cup closer to the edge of the table. "I'm Bucky by the way," he reached out his hand and you shook it. "Y/N," you smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you, doll." he kissed the back of your hand. Then he sat on the couch, made himself comfortable and started staring at you while biting his bottom lip.

You tried to focus on the novel and avoid his gaze but it was impossible. You rolled your eyes, put your book aside and cocked your brow. "What?" you sighed. "Nothin'. I'm just trying to remember your face," he responded with a smirk. "And why is that?" you tilted your head. You could feel that he was about to say something smooth. "Because I want to see every detail when I'm dreaming of you," he was looking deep into your eyes while saying that. You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks and looked down in an attempt to hide it. There was something about him that made you feel special...

After a few months, you and Bucky were head over heels in love with each other. You wanted to be around him all the time but unfortunately, the universe had other plans. The second world war started and both of you knew that sooner or later Bucky would have to go and serve his country.

When he got his enlistment, you tried to cheer him up. You stayed positive and optimistic. You had to. For Bucky. But the truth was that you cried yourself to sleep every night thinking that there's a big chance that he would never come back.

June 14th, 1941. You and Bucky were standing at the train station in front of each other, waiting and holding hands. While sharing those last minutes of closeness you were trying to memorize his face in case he wouldn't...

You couldn't do that anymore. You told yourself to be strong. Only a few more minutes. But you couldn't. The tears started to run down your cheeks like a river of despair. "Hey... don't cry, doll." he pulled you into an embrace.

The train arrived and you knew you had to be quick. You kissed your soldier passionately and desperately. He gripped your waist You put something in his pocket. He frowned and tried to take it out but you stopped him. "Read it when you'll miss me," you whispered. "I miss you already, doll." he gave you a weak smile. "You know what I mean," you traced his jawline with your thumb. "You'll write to me, right?" you reminded him. "As often as possible." he leaned his forehead against yours. "I love you, sergeant," you stated and watched as his eyes shined. "I love you too, angel," he kissed your nose. "I will be back before you know it. I promise." he pecked your lips and got on the train. You were waving at him until he disappeared.

As soon as he stopped seeing you, Bucky put out the thing that you gave him from his pocket.

It was a picture of you and him laying on the grass. Both of your smiles reached your ears.

He turned the paper around and traced your handwriting with his thumb. He knew that if he would try to read this, he would break down. But he couldn't help it.

"Dear Bucky,

I know it's tough. I know that you miss me and you can be sure I miss you too. I am probably thinking about you this moment.

I want you to know that I am waiting for you. And I always will.

Just remember me. Remember that I love you and I will never love anyone else.

Always yours,

Y/N"

Bucky knew that the only thing keeping him from falling apart was you. The thought that after the war he will see you again kept him alive.

...

"You look great." you turned to see your older sister leaning on the doorframe. She walked up to you and stood behind you. "I haven't seen him in four years, Jane. What if he won't like the way I look anymore?" your sister gave you an 'are you stupid' look. "What the hell do you mean by that?! Barnes loves you more than anything else. I can tell by the way his eyes shine when he sees you. He is the one, Y/N. For sure." she seemed so confident in what she was saying. "Thank you." you hugged Jane. "S' nothin'. Let's go get our soldiers." she grabbed your wrist and pulled you after her.

You got to the station and waited a few minutes on the platform. Finally, the train arrived. Everyone started cheering and clapping. You stood at the back observing the scene carefully. Your mind was running a hundred miles an hour and you felt your stomach twitch. You saw your sister's husband running to her and hugging her tightly. You decided to give them some space so you walked a few steps away and watched them with a smile.

Suddenly you heard a voice behind you. "It's really beautiful. Two lovers finally reuniting after long years of separation..." you knew that sound. It was like music to your ears. You turned around and saw the one and only James Buchanan Barnes.

You couldn't say anything, just covered your mouth with your palms and started to cry. The longing had been driving you crazy. It was the worst torture you could feel.

You knew that he felt that too because you saw tears in his eyes. He looked at you in complete awe. "I'm here, doll..." he whispered and put his hands on your waist. "I can't believe it. It's so unreal," you muttered and looked into his steel-blue eyes. He smiled and licked his lips. "I've been waiting for this moment for four long years and I have a burning question... Can I kiss you?" he cupped your cheek and wiped the tears with his finger. "Permission granted, soldier." you chuckled. He leaned closer and finally closed the distance between you. His warm lips were moving slightly against yours. It was exactly like you remembered. Maybe even better.

That kiss was an expression of love, longing, hope, happiness and many unspoken promises. For a moment you didn't care about anything. It was only you and Bucky and you didn't want to stop. You could tell that neither did he. Unfortunately, your lungs were begging for air so you had to pull back. His lips brushed yours and he sighed. "I love you." these words slipped from his mouth so easily but you knew he meant that in every possible way. "I love you too." you smiled.

Suddenly he picked you up and twirled you while grinning uncontrollably. You laughed, took his hat and put it on your head. "How do I look?" you raised your brow. "Amazing. As always," he stated and when you looked into his eyes you understood what your sister meant. That look of complete adoration and love. You were sure you mirrored that look.

That was the moment you realized that you want to be by his side forever because no one could make you feel the way you did when Bucky was around.

He knew that too. And that's why deep in the pocket of his uniform there was a ring just waiting for the right moment...